When the bolt pierced the shield

[leviticus]

When the bolt pierced the shield

written by Leviticus and Dazedandconfused

The life of an artist often requires suffering... for some it is a suffering of circumstance. For others, it can be the suffering of the soul. And for many, it was the suffering of the heart. For her, it was all three. She was a creature too easily bruised by life, and it showed in her soulful hazel eyes.
The pretty human strummed her lute, set back in the corner of the tavern, crossbow strapped to her back. The clothing she wore was well made, the materials rich, and very clean. But the observant could note the signs of wear, the careful mending that did not quite match the orginal design.
Her skin was creamy, her complexion flawless. The smudge of dirt on her cheek only drew attention to the pretty face and the pouting lips. She sat there, nursing an ale carefully, making it last as she played various melodies. She was there in the crowd, yet not part of it. Banter sent her way was met with either a stare or just the faintest of smiles.

Long elegant fingers plucked gently at the strings, the song a familiar sailor's lamant, telling of loss of home and love. Her eyes moved from person to person, idle curiousity showing though she made no moves to speak to any. A fight broke out nearby...and all she did was move her booted feet out the path of the combatants. One hand reached up and caught a flying bottle that headed towards her head before it could shatter...the bottle gently set down before she continued with her song.
The tavern was a rough one, mercenaries and sailors making time with rogues, gypsies and tavern tarts. Fights were so common, no one even batted an eye when they broke out, bets often being placed upon the winners. The alcohol ran the gammut from high quality smugglers' spoils, to the cheapest rotgut. Someone had once tried to class up the place, but the once fine wooden chairs and tables were scarred though clean. The owner ran the bar, a once mercenary himself, the man known to crack the skulls of anyone who caused too much trouble.

The scent of ale and whiskey competed with the scent of cheap perfume and smoke. Sounds became a din, voices and laughter mixing with the clink of coins as a few card games took place. And underneath it all, the melodies that the girl coaxed from her lute, the speculating gaze of the bartender straying to her now and then. And she just took it all in, her back carefully turned into a corner, her position allowing her to watch the whole of the place and preventing any from sneaking up on her.


Among the chaos there also appeared to be a rock, or at least someone who showed a lot indifference to the cries and shouts around him, and to the ones running amok. Not that he would allow anyone to touch him, let alone hit him even if it were by accident. The beer served and standing in front of him was lukewarm and smelled like burp, which probably explained why it was barely consumed. One could wonder what made him stay in a place like this. Anyone observing him, if this man would have looked interesting, would have wondered about that. Wearing a heavy infantry armour and the broad shoulders over which a huge all-black cloak was draped made him look like a warrior. But the metal just looked a little bit too shiny, the quality just a bit too far above average, and the outfit thus looking a little bit too expensive to take him for an ordinary soldier. Next being a quite muscled man, even while sitting on a bar stool he seemed tall if not huge.

He had been visiting this place since a few weeks now, every evening entering it with a rather dusty layer covering parts of his armour, and sometimes even with bloodstains dotted like a work of art all over his appearance. Since yesterday he had a room upstairs, not that it meant a lot to him. Not at all as he wouldn’t often be found there. The dark haired, somewhat surly looking man seemed to have no name as he didn’t make contact by himself, except perhaps with the bartender to order a drink or a meal. The man with no name also hardly drew any attention as rarely anyone started interaction with him, but that could probably have been explained by his overall expression, the leave-me-alone expression. Only once he got briefly involved in a brawl here, caused by someone who won’t make that same mistake again of ‘trying’ to involve him. With one blow of his mighty armoured fist he had knocked out the instigator, and made the rest around him think twice to address him about that. He shifted on his chair and seemed to shrugg off all the stuff going on behind his back, as if it were little children who were playing and settling their petty debts.

Well, what did matter to him then? Was it something from his past? Was it something he had been doing right before every time he returned from god knows what places and adventures? Or did simply nothing matter at all?

[leviticus]

He tilted his head a little and seemed to perk up an ear, as if he was sifting through the acoustic smog and the auricle attempted to pick something up hidden admidst all of the nonsense going on behind him. And just when any diligent observer would have concluded nothing seemed to interest this man, one could notice he was listening to something. But to what exactly could one be listening with all this racket and tumult around? Words, a voice, a specific sound… or…?


The bartender pinned his gazed on the bardess, catching her eyes with his own. His gaze flicked from her to the ale near her hand and back to her, an unspoken command having her shoulders stiffening somewhat. The notes of the melody rang a bit more true, commanding a bit more attention. And then an angelic voice accompanied the music. A few words in and the bickering seemed to pause for a moment, a few notes more and even one of the card games came to a halt. The hazel eyes were kept averted, as if she already knew the danger of signaling out one of the patrons. Yet, for one brief moment, her gaze met the lone warrior who sat apart. One brief meeting of their eyes before her own skittered away was noted by none but the two it may have affected.


The silent dark-haired man already had been listening, even before she raised her song and her voice. But the moment that crystal clear sound struck him, it seemed to reach more than just his ear. Anyways, it was sufficient to make this man turn his head so that he was facing her. A pair of somewhat different colored eyes, the left one like the depths of a sapphire blue ocean whilst the other seemed rather more like the aquamarine of a tropical lagoon, gave her a steady look. As if she were the only thing around worthy enough to receive some of his attention. The moment their eyes met, she was also able to perceive a somewhat scruffy and unshaved face, which made his strong and sharp jawline perhaps attractive and his overall appearance look even more tough. With the small flickering flame of a single candle half melted down as the only source of light in the area where he was sitting, it was hard to tell whether his skin was either kissed by the sun, or rather pale like a blank canvas. Wisps of black smoke rising up from the flame burning its fuel, and which judging by its scent seemed based on a certain oil, curled and danced between them. Without a blink of his eyes he simply looked back at her. Perhaps he just appreciated art?


Her hair was the color of deep rich chocolate, the light from the nearby lamps highlighting strands that shimmered golden and crimson. The hazel colored eyes were gold one moment, green the next. Her skin was the rich cream of the aristocracy, the faint wash of color on her cheeks the same deep pink as the satin lips from which the siren’s song originated. When the song reached its end, she received the applause and the offering of coins as if they were her due, dividing them into two piles. Soon after the bartender worked his way past, whisking one of the piles away and giving the girl a pat on the shoulder. The pretty face just wore a look of resignation, though her boss received a half smile at his show of approval. The fingers plucked out a soft melody once more, almost as if the act of playing set her at ease in the rough environment in which she was mired.


Just before the dark looking warrior turned his attention back to his meal, from the corners of his eyes he saw a slim blond man approaching the young bardess. He rolled his eyes to himself as if he had been predicting all along trouble would be ahead. The only question remaining was if he were to be involved this time, … or not. Discretely observing through the thick hazy air that just seemed to escape the gentle pull of the fire place’s chimney over and over again, the man beheld the budding encounter. After all, he had been long enough here to know the reputation of that man. Without drawing any attention, his right hand descended towards his sword belt, clearly judging that the upcoming incident may require more than the striking blow of a closed fist.


The slim blond male approached, the male’s eyes running over her as if she was already his for the taking. None had yet tasted the new house bard and he saw no reason at all why he should not be the first. His reputation as the prime ladykiller of this establishment was at stake. Bold as brass, confident in his looks and his reputation, the young mercenary leaned against the table, looming over the young bardess.

Up close, the angelic beauty of her features was highlighted by the flickering torchlight, turning her from just a human bard into a vision. Her eyes slowly traveled up his form to his face, showing not even a trace of the usual interest that he had grown accustomed to receiving. The catlike eyes returned to her own lute before he could even flash his smile or give her his best opening line.

A few of his friends at a table across the taproom smirked and poked each other, and it looked like they were closing bets with one another. And from what the young bold loverboy could perceive, the odds were according to his friends against him. He turned his gaze back to the girl and offered her a sultry look, and expressing a quite steamy desire.

The dleiciously sultry look given was wasted on her, the show of desire noted and dismissed. He did not even receive a smile from the object of his desire, her expression merely one of boredom. She was all too aware of the type of male he was and unlike the other tavern tarts would not be taken in by a lustful gaze and a pretty smile. He was just another dog, sniffing at a treat and trying to stake claim before the rest of the pack. And she was not willing to play the piece of meat in this little scenario. She continued plucking out a melody from her lute, pretending that the music had her full attention.

Not receiving the slightest of visual reactions to his appearance, the young man cleared his throat and with a hoarse voice asked," Can I help you earn another drink, m'lady? I'll promise you it won't cost you a lot of effort…," he offered her a mysterious seductive gaze and an enticing smile," ... not at all..."

She looked up at him and indicated the half full glass of ale in front of her. “I have all I require, thank you.” Her voice was cultured, her manners impeccable as she continued her song, long sooty lashes shielding her eyes from his view.

As if nothing like this ever happened to him before, the young man turned his look to his friends who were close to falling off their chairs, dying laughing. The color appearing on his cheeks and spreading all over his face was clearly red, but it was unclear if it was there due the humiliating sounds his friends produced, or due the fact he had been just turned down by this young girl. He inched a bit closer… “Hey now, listen…,” his hand reached for her instrument.


Meanwhile behind them and without anyone noticing the tall warrior had moved off his chair. The rest of his earlier stance remained unchanged, but if anyone would have paid attention, it was clear he was observing what was about to be unfolded.


“Upstairs I have better stuff than the miserable junk they poor out here,” the young seducer continued, as his fingers clamped around the neck of her lute. “And between you and me, I offer better working conditions…”

As the lute was wrested from her hands, high color appeared on her cheeks and she finally turned her now furious gaze to the unwanted suitor. Her booted feet hit the floor and she stood up before him. She was petite in stature, one hand moving to a well rounded hip. She had to tilt her head back to meet the now amused eyes of the offending lute thief. Her free hand was extended palm open. “My lute, if you please, Sir… I have a job, your working conditions are of no interest to me...nor is your…stuff…”


It seemed that many of the attendees didn’t really care what would happen to the girl. Perhaps in their opinion she was just part of the scenery, like the ‘rest’ of the tavern wenches they got used to. What would make this little bardess differ from that opinion. Though several seemed to take interest in the fact whether this young man would eventually succeed or not. With almost sadistic expectations several pairs of eyes turned in their direction.
And again… no one paid attention to the huge dark warrior.


This time the young lad didn’t let her blow him away, and as he grew more bold and confident, he replied,” How can you judge over something you haven’t experienced yet?”

“I haven’t experienced death yet, it does not mean I am ready to go rush upon the nearest sword either. Your logic is faulty, please return my lute.” The little bardess tossed her hair back a bit, her eyes skittering to the bartender to find him too busy to even note the little scene being played out.

The young man could hear the most horrendous laughter he ever heard in his life, which started like people laughing first with their mouths shut and then turning into a rather loud, high-pitched haha, before ending with a snort. His eyes shifted between the crowd and the unwilling wench. How much further did he have to go to compensate the loss of face he already had acquired? Turning over the lute in front of the girl he attemped to retain his confident stance,”How about I make you a deal…” But suddenly he stopped as he felt a heavy hand descending upon his shoulder, and when he heard how everything turned quiet behind him.

[leviticus]

Like a black yet massive shadow the warrior had approached the pair, his presence alone enough to darken the dance floor. He had moved fast yet surprisingly silent, the waves in the black fabric of his cloak coming to an immediate halt and flattening out as he took position behind the blond male.

“You had your shot, sunny,” the bass voice jerked the young male’s attention away from his prize pigeon, and noticed even he had to look up at the presence towering behind him.

The bardess looked at her guardian angel with a mixture of gratitude and caution, her eyes stunned as she recognized the lone warrior who had caught her gaze before. He was massive, he seemed to radiate an aura of menace. His expression told of irritation directed at not just the over-amorous mercenary in front of her, but at her as well. Her head tilted, any harsh retort dying upon her lips as she recognized the danger of offending the only one who came to her defense.

This time the lad looked as if things simply couldn’t have grown worse, immediately sensing that he would prove no match for this man. Even if what this dark ‘savior’ oozed wouldn’t have been enough, the blond youngster could also appeal on a scene still fresh in his memory. Last week he had seen how this huge man faced a wild dire boar unarmed and defeated it by breaking its neck. He knew this man was some sort of warrior who is granted with powers of the gods themselves, but his physical condition had already been more than enough to stop the boar from killing a small group of very young and fearless hunters. After that incident he had dusted off his clothes and hands, looked down at the elder children and just shaken his head before continuing his journey.
Which… said more than enough to the ones he saved.

Slowly the lute was released, yet carefully until it was back in the delicate hands of its rightful owner.
“Heh… I was just joking man…” he said trying to sound light and as if it hadn’t mattered at all.

Her hand closed around the beloved instrument, her wide eyed gaze locked upon the male who had just intervened. She mouthed the words “thank you” softly, her entire stance showing a sense of innate pride and dignity not often found in a place such as this.

As the blond loverboy traveled off in the direction of his friends, leaving the huge warrior and the little songbird behind, other attendees picked up their currrent activities again since the most interesting part just had passed, or rather... to great regret of most it didn’t take place.

The man just looked down on the girl with eyes as if to say ‘what are you doing here’, but left it there. With nothing but offering some moody grunt in return, the warrior turned around and left for the stairs. He did not give the blond loverboy and his gang or friends even a second look, his actions and his reputation providing enough of a punch to forestall any future actions this eve.

The bardess watched him, the look in his eyes stinging her already wounded pride. Her chin lifted, her face becoming a mask that revealed nothing of her inner pains. She moved to the bar, giving the bartender a few whispered words as she took her own leave. She walked towards the stairs with the bearing and demeanor of a queen, her head held high, her shoulder’s squared. And more than a few eyes followed as she dissappeared up to the second floor.


The long upper hall appeared to be empty, and except for the muffled clinks of bar cups being clung together and one uncontrollable high-pitched laughter piercing through the dark wooden floor from below, all seemed rather peaceful and quiet up here. It was so sharp contradicting with the main floor.
And by the sounds echoing from the staircase it was becoming even greater. Probably another drinking session that was about to end up in ‘acts of violence’ and ‘fatal accidents’.

There was an odd scent in the air, the smoky scent of the oils used in the lamps mixing with the cloying scent of cheap perfume and the greasy sent of meals delivered from the kitchen below. The flooring was clean, but again scarred by careless bootheels. The wallpaper on the walls was faded, the rich blue color having faded to an odd greyish tone that did nothing to dispell the overall dingy feel.

At the end of the hall she could hear a door that probably must have been closing slowly, falling in its lock, the click of the spring-loaded bolt shooting automatically into place audible. It appeared to be the door of the room next to hers.

She stole quietly into her own room, locking the door behind her and a chair being wedged under the doorknob. The room was small, very clean...and likely different from many of the others. Colorful scarves and skirts were draped around the room, giving almost a tent like appearance to the walls. The bed was full of pillows and cushions. Plants and dried flowers filled the corners and various bottles and crystals covered the wooden dresser. The young bardess removed the leather boots, the suede breeches and the brocade vest, staring at her reflection in the mirror as she brushed her hair dressed only in the silken shirt and her undergarments.

She could suddenly hear how someone next door almost stumbled, and probably regained his balans using the intermediate wall. A loud muffled clang of an armour dropping on the floor probably shook up the whole floor. Not that anyone dragged from his sleep would have dared to address the owner about that. After that it rather turned quiet in the room next to hers.

She climbed into her bed, her crossbow placed close at hand on the floor next to her. Her pride still stung from the look in her savior’s eyes. The wounds deep inside were still fresh, a feeling of being unworthy and discarded haunted her. She closed her eyes and hoped to shut out the dreams for a night, to sleep deeply. Tomorrow would be a new dawn, a new beginning. She had to keep hope that life would get better one day.

[dazedandconfused]

Quite early the next morning a tall man left his room and turned towards the stairs. But just before he passed the room next to his, that door flung open and the man found himself unexpected on a collision course with a young girl rushing out. The comparison with a bear almost tripping and rolling over a mouse couldn’t have been more accurate. Yet no one got harmed here as there was just a medium bump of their bodies making contact. Nonetheless, it could be quite unpleasant for those who didn’t like physical contact.

The hazel colored eyes went wide as she stumbled against the hard armored body of the male who saved her the night before. Her own body was clothed in leather and suede, her crossbow strapped to her back. Two small braids were used almost as a crown to hold the rest of her hair back. To her, it felt like she ran into a wall. To him, it felt like he had just been hit by a pillow...a pillow that was scented with citrus and vanilla. Then he heard that angelic voice. “Oh damn my eyes, I am so so sorry…pray forgive my haste.”

“Hmppff…” was his first reaction, the piercing blue of a pair different colored eyes staring at her from under dark bushy eyebrows. Then he shook his head once while simultaneously contemplating whether to show some courtesy and let her go first, or just continue his way to breakfast as he too rather had been in a hurry. The pressure of showing some manners got the upper-hand, and with a brief gesture of his arm in the direction of the staircase he motioned the girl standing in his shadow to go first.

“After you…” he droned while adjusting the huge sword hanging over his shoulder and tightening the belt and strap holding it in place.

“Umm yes, ahhh Thank you...and...for last night as well.” She offered the slight smile, rubbing a bit self consciously at her cheek as she moved towards the stairs. Her head turned and she looked back at him once, uncertain before smiling again. “We will likely be the only ones being served this early, at least it will be quiet.”

He looked at her as if she just told him that one of the gods had materialized out on the street, and it was clear he was having some trouble to believe and accept what just happened. As if her response was so strange, it perplexed him. Though only for a very short moment.

The dark-haired warrior murmured something to himself and furrowed a brow as he watched at her back. Scratching the back of his neck briefly he resumed his path to the stairs and started descending it with a rather heavy footfall the moment she finished it.

[dazedandconfused]

She took place at her usual table, her back to a corner of the room. She gave the slight smile to the one serving wench that worked so early and asked for a mug of tea and a bit of fresh fruit, in spite of the girl trying to get her to eat a more hearty meal. Once alone, she sat there waiting as the girl moved towards the kitchen, pausing as the giant male entered as if waiting to take his order as well.

He simply plopped down on a chair at the other side of the taproom and after ordering, he just seemed to relapse into his former way of doing. It was just as if an invisible wall had been placed between them. He was not making any eye contact at all, let alone share a few words. Instead, he seemed plunged in thought, and his mind seemed pretty occupied as any further body language was totally absent. He just sat there and once more looked like a dark rock.

For one brief moment, the young bard watched him. His complete disinterest in her seemed to register and she quickly looked away and down. The barmaid saw her eyes close and the way she seemed to draw within herself and frowned. The lass spent too much time alone. She was always polite, always kind, yet she only spoke if spoken to and rarely engaged in any activity other than her songs. The lass deserved a gentle push maybe. The serving wench looked at the large male and snapped curtly . “Oi, have a bit o’ mercy fer a workin girl this early...go join the lass at the table so I dinna need ta be runnin hither and yon fetchin yer meals as well as cleanin this place up.”

The male looked up very slowly with a barely concealed surprise on his face, and for a moment he looked like a child who had been just told by his mother to do the dishes while it wasn’t his shift. But that quickly changed. His eyes looking dark upon the waitress now, slowly shifted to that little girl in the corner on the other side of the taproom. And her, he offered a look as if he couldn’t believe she just got in front of his feet again.

Mumbling something about respect to himself, the words only audible by the waitress who smiled on the occasion making the warrior say something, the man slowly rose up. As he towered in front of the window, the light of the rising sun cast a large shadow on the floor which reached all the way toward the table of the young girl, the hilt of his blade projected on her cute little face.

She looked up as the walking mountain blotted out the sunlight, regarding him with eyes far too serious for her face. As he took a seat, her eyes seemed to take in every detail of his appearance and his facial expressions. Whatever she saw there made her shift on her seat a bit, then turn to watch the tavern wench scurry into the kitchens. She cleared her throat nervously then remarked softly. “You need not worry over much, Sir. Though I am a bard, I am not so in love with my own voice that I know not when to be quiet. I shall not disturb your peace.”

He grumbled something and shook his head once again, just like he had done after they bumped into each other a few minutes before. Instead he lifted a small bag off his shoulder and started to prepare what seemed to be lunch and dinner for later. He had a hard and determined look on his face and she could tell from his eyes there was a connection between this preparation and whatever occupied his mind. Judging by the rest of the gear already in his bag, a small pick axe, a few bottles, a set of flints, weird looking gloves, some rope and a special belt designed to climb, he probably wasn’t expecting to return before nightfall.

It was uncertain to tell whether he appreciated her earlier statement, or simply had ignored it.

At the sight of the food, her stomach rumbled loudly, but she true to her word she said not one syllable . Instead she watched him curiously, drinking in what he chose as gear as if committing it to memory. The barmaid returned with a platter of eggs, ham and potatoes for him and set a bowl of fresh fruit as well as slices of toasted bread smeared with honey in front of the bard. Before the bardess could even speak, she scolded. “Ya will be eatin what the cook sent ya, missy. Ya dinna eat enough ta keep a bird alive.” The barmind left quickly to get the last word and the bardess muttered under her breath. ‘I would have her know, that birds can actually consume twice their own body weight in grains.”

As if the bardess, -or- the whole scene just had earned the faintest of smiles from him, the warrior look over at her with that expression and simply shook his head again. Instead of adding comment to the situtation, he resumed with what he clearly considered a breakfast.

She had dainty manners, eating slowly and with small bites. Her thumb became smeared with honey from the toast and she raised the digit to her lips and licked the stickiness away, the whole motion showing an utter innocent sensuality. She was not like the tavern tarts or doxies who seemed to make everything suggestive, yet she seemed to have an effortless appeal to her gestures that drew the eyes. She paid attention to her own meal, though occasionally the hazel gaze drifted to the man demolishing the whole platter of food in front of him.

Yet if she paid well enough attention, she was able to perceive even though he devoured a meal big enough for a small poor family, he had eye for his own manners. Like wiping off his lips before taking a sip from his glass for instance, or the napkin that had been spread on his legs before he commenced breakfast. His eyes only briefly drifted over to the girl and when he caught her looking at him, he just had raised a brow.

All that time he hadn’t said one word let alone exchanged one,... which was almost chilling in a way.

When finished with her meal, she withdrew a small purse. The coins within were scarce and she used half of them to pay for the small meal. He saw her hesitate, looking at the few coins left before taking another out and leaving it for the tavernmaid. She tucked what was left away, raising a hand to rub at her cheek. A pinched look appeared on her face, her brows drawn in concern for her lack of coin, yet she would not take back the tip to the woman who served her.

An almost unnoticable shrug to himself as he glanced in her direction on the moment she laid out the coins. Then he slid the chair back and turned his head in the direction of the abandoned hallway leading towards the kitchen. The sound of his voice so suddenly breaking the silence may have had the young bardess startled a little. “Put it on my tab, Marie,” he droned.

Then he glanced at the tip and as if he just decided that already had been taken care of, he got up from the table. But just before he left the table it looked as if he changed his mind and turned around to place another coin next to hers, one of equal value.

She watched him as he moved to leave then sighed deeply. She rose gracefully herself and began a slow walk to the door, determined to find some small job she was capable of doing to supplement what she made playing here in the evenings. The coin she made was only enough to keep her with a room and some meals. She knew she could earn more if she would encourage male attention, yet it was a path she was loathe to take. She would keep her morals and her values, even if it meant taking on as many odd jobs as she could find just to survive.

[dazedandconfused]

She made her way to the warehouses near the docks. Hazel eyes carefully took in names until she came to a certain warehouse, the door already open. She was told the man was looking to hire and she showed up far earlier than the usual drunken sailors on leave and other unskilled laborers. The place was full of boxes and casks and rats. Their squeaking made her cringe slightly and she gave a visible start as a rodent the size of a small puppy scampered across her path. “Captain Thomas?” A middle aged man looked up from the table that served as a make shift desk. “The bartender from the Roost sent me...said you have an extermination job?” Knowing that this could be a hard sell, she had her crossbow in hand, turned and shot at a rat that was perched on a box a few feet away, hitting it squarely.

The retired sea captain arched a brow as the pretty little miss put one of the infernal creatures out of its misery quicker than he could blink. “Well now lassy, normally I would be saying this be a man’s job, but you seem quite handy with that bow. You will get paid for each rat you bring me, you have until midday...aye?”


And so, the pretty bard found herself hunting rats. The work was monotonous. Standing still, waiting for one to grow bold, shooting and collecting the corpse in a basket. “I feel like a damn overgrown cat.” Her voice showed a self depreciating humor, yet she stayed stubbornly at the task. Only every now and then did she need to fight her squeamishness regarding her prey.

After a small break, she could hear something on the other side of the crates. Whatever moved there had to be one gigantic rat. Though the sound seemed to be accompanied with a rather unfamiliar sound, yet enough to prepare her weapon once more. Suddenly something moved and it was rather hard to deduce how big it was as it was as black as the night.

As she narrowed her eyes she could see dust laying over every surface, yet on top of those crates a track was visible. As if something big had swept off the dirty snow in a rather erratic way. In this section of the warehouse there was a smell of mildew in the stale air. Small fingers of light were bursting through gaps in a boarded window on the left and while dust particles twinkled and danced like tiny stars in front of her, all turned to absolute silence again.

Right behind the corner she could see how the crates were piled up and cascaded all the way towards an old wooden stairs on which the local population had weaved their webs between the stair’s banisters. All in all this dark grim place was the worst excuse for a warehouse she ever might have seen. It more looked like an abandoned hole where people had dumped their excessive and long-forgotten goods.

Under her the wooden floor creaked, the plank moving at least half an inch down. If she would have pounded on it with her foot, even she probably would have been able to break it and as she looked at this part of the floor she could see a few already snapped floorboards and several dark holes in which even a dog could have disappeared. Perhaps she had found the source of this infestation?

Though it was now unnaturally silent and the only sound she could hear was her own breathing, she could feel burning eyes. Like something was watching her. She was spooking herself, that atmosphere and her own vivid imagination combining to turn the average warehouse into a place far more sinister. And while her rational mind argued that she was being silly, her own fanciful nature made it all too easy to picture something dark and twisted , waiting in the shadows to grab her and drag her down to whatever hellish place below.

Suddenly several things seemed to happen all at once. She heard stumbling on the other side of the crates, and as she looked around she saw a pair of red eyes looking down from one of them at her. The creature or whatever it was made a leap in her direction as a set of voices sounded at the end of the row filled with crates.

She did not have time to think, in fact she hardly had time to react. The owners of the voices heard a piercing voice that sent many of the vermin skittering in a blind panic. There was the sound of something cutting through air, a high pitched squeal, followed by an angelic voice cursing like a sailor. A very large rat was pinned on a bolt that whizzed through the air towards the two talking, the bolt embedding itself into the wall near one of the male’s heads, the creature pinned to the wall as it suffered it’s death throes.

The sound of the crossbow going off again and again was heard as she made quick work in shooting down the vermin her song disturbed. In less than two minutes, the floor was littered with impaled rats.

The pretty faced bard however was still cussing, splatters of blood dark against the creamy skin on her face and dotting her vest and shirt.

From the other side of the crates had appeared two males, and yes… she recognized them both! She was even just in time to see her employer gasping for air, clearly feeling like someone who was not getting enough oxygen as his face had turned pale. The expression of the man standing next to the captain was of a wholly different nature. He looked at her like a father would have looked at his child who had been playing with a catapult and just broke their neighbor’s window. He crossed his arms and only by the way how he shook his head, she would have recognized him immediately among thousands of other men.

“Ninety five, ninety six, ninety seven, ninety eight, ninety nine.” She picked up the littered vermin corpses and marched right up to the large male who had saved her the night before AND who had ignored her through breakfast. The look on his face stung her pride, something about this man stripping her confidence raw and bringing forth past feelings of being utterly inadequate. She first had to climb up on a box to reach the rat that hung from the bolt. Then had to wrestle a bit with the bolt that was embedded in the wall next to his head. “One hundred” She retrieved her prize, nearly falling from the box but landing cat-like on her feet. Her face was smeared with blood, but she gave her employer a very cheeky grin.

Suffocation meant some was about to die because he or she was unable to breathe. It also could mean someone was uncomfortable just because there didn’t seemed to be enough fresh air around. It took a slap from the warrior on the captain’s back before the man regained voice and saying,” A… job well done miss Lovelle.” The man next to him grumbled something under his breath about marksmen exercising with apples but he didn’t mix himself in the conversation. He just stood there waiting till their business was over before resuming his own business with the old captain again.

Bards have excellent ears and she heard exactly what the warrior said. Both men saw the soulful hazel eyes cloud with hurt. Then before their eyes, her shoulders squared and her little chin came up defiantly. She held out her hand for the promised coins, tucking the payment away in her purse. The money would be enough to pay for her room and board for at least a week, allowing her to save the money she made from her nightly performances. She was providing for herself and she would not let this arrogant and condescending warrior strip her of this accomplishment. She turned on her heel and walked out of the warehouse with the bearing of a queen, her rounded rear swaying enough that the old captain had to grin and nudge the man with him.

If she would have looked over her shoulder to see that nudge, she would have seen the warrior turned all business immediately and asked after his promised gear. Clearly not in the mood for jokes or local chatter, the warrior paid the captain after he fetched his beloved equipment and without more words than absolutely necessary, the huge man left the building. A dark yet determined look on his face to anyone who crossed his path on his way out of the city.

[dazedandconfused]

For two days the bardess didn’t see him return, and on the third day she may have started wondering if he had found his nemesis, even though that was hard to believe considering the posture and aura of this man.

Three long days. She found herself looking whenever someone entered the tavern, then got annoyed at herself for looking. Maybe he had found another place to stay, he made no effort to hide his thoughts of her. Maybe he found her an annoyance or unworthy of his attention. But if she was unworthy of his attention then he would not give a thought if she stayed in the same inn as he. She sat there in her corner, playing her lute and singing when the bartender signaled a distraction was needed. Her expression was petulant, sulky though a wise soul might also see a wistful longing and a desperate loneliness.

Several times a night fights would break out. Yet, she seemed to be developing a knack for seeing trouble brewing. And if she acted quick enough, if the argument was not so serious, sometimes her singing could distract the rowdy crowd long enough to prevent bloodshed.

That however was not making her popular with some of the more criminal element who relied on such fights to ply their trade unseen. She was becoming more and more aware of malicious eyes staring at her from time to time. She had found a dead rat hanging from her doorknob the night before. She had suffered her hair being pulled and her rear pinched from time to time these past few nights. A knife was now sheathed at her thigh, given to her by the bartender himself. But she also knew that she was on her own, he had not the time nor the inclination to babysit her nightly.


Follow no one’s path, and instead make your own. When life would be a race, the people would be the runners who would find many obstacles and sharp turns on their way towards their destiny. Some of these would offer opportunities and challenges, whilst others would be considered as setbacks or even failure. Any decisions made down the way could turn out good, others bad, while of some the runners might be regretting not taking them.

When he returned three days later and after judging by how he looked as he entered a for this place calm late evening in the taproom, she could see something had changed. As always he was covered in dust and his face might have reminded her of those people working in the mines. When he would have taken place at her table like that, she probably would have had many reasons to object. Perspiration laid cool on the skin of his face, beading on his forehead and slowly trickling down to his eyes and at his neck. If he would have removed his armor right there, she would see the sweat probably had darkly soaked his underclothes. For her it wouldn’t be that hard to imagine how he was smelling.

But what had changed then exactly? If it wasn’t his physical appearance as he had returned more than once like this, it had to be something else, like… his expression. His shoulders weren’t as squared as normally, his arms rather hanging on his body. His chin was a bit down, but he didn’t look really as someone who had just lost all his confidence in life. More like someone who just faced another setback on his path, but who was stilling willing to move on. He looked… tired.

He glanced around briefly, only to see the taproom was rather quiet. The biggest troublemakers had either moved on, or hadn’t returned yet from their probable offenses. When he turned his head in the direction of the bardess, he briefly seemed to make some sort of eye contact, probably just in a flash of recognizing the one who had crossed his path now a few times.

She saw him the instant that he entered, the sad hazel eyes drawn to him as if he was a lodestone. She frowned at the rough appearance, instantly noticing the change in stance, the altered demeanor. Wherever he had been and whatever he had been doing, he did not have an easy time of it. Her nose wrinkled slightly before she averted her gaze. In her corner, she was alone, separate and solitary.

The melody she played was almost haunted, melancholoy. The angelic voice began to sing of the loneliness and pain of an impossible love that could likely move the stoniest of hearts. The voice could cut to a man’s soul. The bardess’ face could haunt a man’s dreams. And yet, she remained always alone in the corner.

Contemplating between having a nice bath or a good meal first, the warrior lingered a moment longer just a few footsteps away from the front door, his gaze pensively at the floor not far away in front of him. His ear caught the song of which the tune, the meaning and the words seemed to seep into his subconscious mind. Yet that was to judge upon, as he could have been listening as well. It was hard to make heads or tails of this man since he lacked the proper use of a few of the channels meant to communicate with his surroundings. It appeared he went for the second option as the tall warrior suddenly made his way to the bar and sank down on a bar stool, his deep voice rumbling softy as he ordered a hearty meal and beer.

If the bartender noticed the smell, he sure didn’t made anything of it as he probably either was used to worse, or simply didn’t risk to address the warrior about it.


She watched him as he took his meal at the bar. Her eyes kept being drawn to him, though she made the effort to look away as soon as she realized . He looked exhausted, mentally and physically. And, he looked as alone as she felt, though he appeared for more comfortable in his solitude. She finally gave up and signaled to the bartender that she was heading up for the night.

The dark hallway that led to the rooms was quiet at this time. Only the occasional loud snore heard through the walls as she made her way to her room. She would be glad for the solitude as she approached the door. For a gift was left for her, one that hand her hand pressed to her mouth in horror and dismay. At her door was the mutilated body of a kitten that she had been feeding in the courtyard outside the tavern. Its neck had been snapped, the small body stabbed, blood matting the soft fur that she enjoyed stroking.

This was another message sent by the unsavory types. She knew it was meant to scare her. It made her angry instead, yet she could not help the scalding tears that had her throat tight. They flowed down her cheeks as she knelt by the small body. Heavy footsteps echoed and she looked up to see the warrior, plodding to his own room and coming to a halt as he saw her.

Her shoulders straightened, her tears were choked back. She could not let this man think her broken or weak. She gathered up the corpse left for her and stood gracefully. Calling upon an inner strength she was not aware that she had, she lifted her head with dignity. She would not break, nor would she give into the utter despair she was feeling. Without a word, she moved past the warrior and trudged down alone to bury the small creature, only the hazel eyes giving her away. Those eyes were simply ravaged with pain and sorrow.

His eyes went from the cat to her as they followed her. And he saw it, her pain, her sorrow. Then he shook his head once and buzzed to himself yet loud enough for her to hear,” Guess I could have predicted that...”

It was the first time ever since that evening she really heard him talk. His voice was deep and at this point it was still hard to tell whether the weight it contained was added or just natural. If he would have been a singer, his songs would have sounded heavy, regardless of the theme. He probably would be an extreme bass type, contributing with an overly dark tone.

But to a trained ear there was more...

This was someone if he wouldn’t have been in the mood he appeared to be, whose dulcet tone could embrace the air like a wonderful, warm and perhaps seducing perfume. In other words, his voice could be an aphrodisiac, … at least under different circumstances as right now he didn’t sound inviting at all, rather… grumpy.


Pain and loneliness had the hard grip on her, and the low timbered words struck her like a fist. The hazel eyes moved to his face and she felt her mask crumple. In that moment, she looked like a young child unjustly bullied by uncaring tormentors, a butterfly who had lost her wings. She wiped the tears from her face with the back of her hand and continued on her way. Her little shoulders were squared with purpose and her chin was set stubbornly.

In the courtyard, near a flowering bush she buried the small creature. And once done, she looked up at the sky and sang a lullabye, the angelic voice so soft. The song was her tribute to the little creature who had accepted her so unconditionally and who died to teach her a lesson. And the whole time she sang, tears traced a silvery path down her cheeks.

[leviticus]

A blanket of darkness and never ending dreariness flooded the skies north of Waterdeep. In the distance the Sword Mountains silhouetted black against a still bright sky. That skyline was about to fade soon as the cluster of dark grey clouds seemed to expand rapidly, engulfing any shape and obscuring the bright colors of nature beneath.

Birds and other animals scurried to the comfort of their homes as soon as trees started swaying in the wind. The moment the first droplets of water were released from the skies, the last gaps in the clouds closed. Soon bigger droplets started to chase and eat the smaller ones and a few minutes later the landscape was sprayed by a heavy inexorable curtain of rain.

Where the first pearls of rain landing on the leafs had sounded like gentle drumming, the sound now blurred into one long, whirring noise. For a moment it looked as if these lands were doomed, any life present destined to get swept away in a mighty flood.


A dark hooded figure standing under a tree smirked lightly and shook his head to himself once as he watched the scene. To many... rain was one of the destructive arrows in nature’s quiver and not everyone realised the life giving aspect and therefore the necessity of weather conditions like these. All they saw were cruel clouds, coughing out immense gouts of water flooding their rivers, engulfing their roads and drowning their fields. All they saw was darkness which they equated to evil, yet they seemed to have forgotten light doesn’t always bring good either.
And you didn’t had to be a treehugger to realise that.

Even now, with the unending cataract of water sluicing from the sky and the surface plunged in an inky blackness,... even now with thunder approaching from far away with an increasing tread and flashes of forked lightning tearing across the heavens,... even now he believed this was all the work of his and other gods, the way how they retained a balance that is just in their eyes.
He tilted his head a little under his deep black hood and listened how the wind sighed and trashed in the tree tops.
He looked back over the landscape. The world seemed now without form and void, darkness the dominant and driving force.

Then, without hesitation and tucking on his hood, the man left the relative protection of the maple tree and resumed his journey to whatever his destination may be.

[leviticus]

Rain guttered on his leatherlike and seemingly impenetrable black cloak as he unperturbedly searched his way over the soil which was already saturated from previous rainfall. From a distance he looked like an unstoppable object defying every gust of wind and rain flurry he had to oppose. Down the valley the winds swept, jerking at his dark cloak and a few times managing to pull the hood back from his grey-black curls. The clouds now raced across the sky and it looked as if they were desperate to release even more of the energy they had gathered earlier. Wild and without discriminating, streaks of lightning splattered onto the soil of the surrounding lands and the sound of the rain changed into an aggressive sissing and hissing.

The weather didn’t seem to bother him at all as he marched on and on under the relentless bombardment from above. Of course weather conditions like these also had a few drawbacks for the unsuspecting traveler. Yet, he was everything but that. The past five years he had been building up experience and developing skills as a guide and mercenary whilst also attempting to rectify some errors from his past. Once again he sniffed the wind without thinking and suddenly noticed the smell of a horse predominating the surrounding air. His right hand reached for the hilt of the two-handed sword sticking up above his shoulder, the blade singing a long screeching note as he swung it out of the scabbard. The metal was in place not a moment too soon since the winds simply overruled the silent whisper of the scythe wielded by a dark rider who had appeared like ghost out of nowhere.
His sword sliced right through the snath causing the chine to fly off with a deadly spin and making it look like one gigantic shuriken.

The rider passed him, the gust of wind the horse produced almost causing him to lose his balance. As he turned around his left hand joined his right, gripping tight around the handle of the huge sword.
He grumbled under his breath, the words uttered lost in the wind to anyone no closer than one feet.
“Damn sneakers…”


Yet he kept his head cool and wasn’t planning on giving away his position. Not… that it mattered as whoever just attacked him, seemed to have found him flawlessly a moment earlier even under these circumstances. He didn’t really had the chance to have a good look on his attacker either. All he knew was that his opponent just lost a piece of his or her weapon.

The tall warrior took a defensive stance, yet in a dynamic ready posture where he presented his sword in the roof position. He turned a bit on his heel, the tip of the blade following and pointing in the directions he scanned. Grey… everything seemed so grey… except for the sky maybe, which lit up in flashes of hot silver. For the rest he was surrounded by an afternoon plunged in an unnatural darkness.

He heightened a few of his senses, enchancing them by ruling out other things. A deep breath, gently and full while paying attention to the air passing in and out of his lungs stopped his thinking. No need for that as he instinctively knew how to fight. He closed his eyes in order to listen acutely, focusing solely on his hearing and noticing every sound, whether it was distant, nearby, loud, sharp, dul. In his past he had trained this until he was able to filter out and listen to two seperate conversations in an overcrowded inn.

As he inhaled deeply through his nosetrills, he was able to differentiate between subtle odours and paid attention on the smells coming and going, seeing which ones he was able to identify. And which not...
More than five seconds already, yet without another attack.

Suddenly and without a sound he spun around his axis and lowered his body while stretching out his left leg. His greatsword was just in time to fend off a razorsharp blade that had appeared lightning fast out of the thick rain curtain. It became so dark and the rain had turned so sharp, it almost looked too incredible that any light would be able to pierce the blackness of this hour. And he didn’t only had to take the rider into account. He gritted his teeth as the massive flank of the horse smashed him backwards, causing him to trip and his body to crash on the dark squishy soil.

Before he was even able to crawl up, the slippery terrain slowing down his actions, a horse was towering above him, the sharp tip of a long blade pulsating with dark energy three inch away from his eyeball. All his actions came to a halt and as he leaned on his elbow, he looked up with a muddy face at the rider.

And his other hand started to search for the dagger on his back...


Dark rider music

[leviticus]

“Your search has come to an end... gray knight,” the deep rumbling voice almost sounded artificial, as if no living creature would be ever able to reproduce a likewise tone and cadence.

Besides sounding incredibly dangerous, it had also something familiar. Especially due the words that were used.
He frowned whilst trying to catch a glimp from the rider’s face. But it was to no avail as the head was covered under a deep hood.
“Heh… what do you know about my search, sneaky freak,” he grumbled to the faceless rider.

A rumbling chuckle escaped from under the hood,” You’re even more incompetent than I always said you were, Grey…”

The dark-haired man rubbed over his eyes with the back of his hand, his fingers smearing the mud in horizontal stripes over his face yet clearing up his sight a little. Not that it was needed. He now knew exactly who he was opposing. A slight narrowing of his eyes was his only facial expression, as he was not willing to look defeated, not at all.

“Damien…”
For a moment it looked as if the rain ceased right after he said that name, yet lightning continued sprinkling the sky and lands with missiles of mass destruction.

“Very good, Grey… you see, even in the last minutes of your life you are still able to learn a thing or two.”

“Heh, since I am as good as dead, you might as well tell me where she is.”

That triggered another chuckle. “Don’t worry, Grey, she is in good hands.”

“She is an abomination, just like you and all the others are. And if I won’t exterminate you after all, others will. I can guarantee you that.”

Another chuckle,” Brave and bold words, Grey. They suit you… I really think you would have been worthy for the Knights of the Shadow Sword.”

“Heh, thanks for the compliment, Damien… and I didn’t expect anything else from you than to kill a defenceless man, or stab one in the back...”

“ENOUGH!”
Red eyes flashed under the rider’s hood and it was clear to Grey that there would be no more talking.



The rain did not bother her... much... when she could be inside in front of a fire. Or when she actually had a warm cloak to huddle under. As she made her way to the forrest, she grumbled. She really did not mind doing favors for the cook, the woman gave her better meals than what she could actually afford in exchange for various jobs. She knew the workers of the inn felt sorry for her, that she was an object of speculation. She tried not to take advantage of that and made sure to pull her weight. Which is why she was out in the rain looking for certain herbs and mushrooms the cook wanted.

It was eerie, the sky dark with clouds, the wind moaning through the trees. Her skin prickled with unease as she made her way, her crossbow already in hand. She had learned to be careful, to be aware. She doubted anyone would be about on such a day but animals could be hungry. Bears, boars...wolves. She shook her head at her own fanciful thinking before stumbling upon a scene that would change her life forever.

“ENOUGH!” The words sounded very final and very threatening. She pressed against the bark of a tree and slowly peeked around it. A fight was taking place, something that did not concern her yet she immediately noticed how unfair this situation was. A male on horseback had the upper- hand on another.


A male was down in the mud, a giant form that she recognized. Her surly giant neighbor at the inn was mired in mud with a sword near his eye, the blade seeming to ooze evil. Hazel eyes took in the scene, the massive horse that looked like a pooka she had heard tales about, the dark shadowy knight. Seconds dragged by as she chewed her lip nervously. He had saved her once, she owed him. Lightening flashed and she made a split instant decision to try and scare the attacker off.

She stepped out behind the tree, channeling her normally angelic voice into a powerful weapon as she aimed her crossbow. A long ago mentor told her that it could knock an enemy off of his feet, but she just hoped to scare the horse. And the loud noise did cause the horse to rear, just as she shot what she thought was two warning bolts.

What she did not count on was the horse slipping in the mud as one of the bolts embedded deep into its flank. She heard a snap as a leg broke, the horse screaming in pain as it went down And she really did not count on the sudden changes in circumstances to force the knight to loose his seat, falling from the horse as the second bolt fired, catching him under the hood. The meaty thunk of the bolt embedding into flesh was deafening to her and her eyes widened in sheer horror as the dark figure fell to the ground and lay still.

All color drained from the girl’s face, her hazel eyes wide with shock and horror. This did not go as she had intended at all, her body starting to shiver from something more than the rain. Her eyes stared at the figure on the ground, waiting in vain for him to rise then she turned to look at the other male and swallowed before stammering. “Is... he... dead?”

[leviticus]

One moment he looked frozen, and only his head turned in her direction. The next and without expressing one intelligible word besides some soft muttering under his breath, the man got up fast and hurried over to his attacker who was lying on his back in a large puddle, motionless and probably pretty dead. She saw him kneeling and peeking under the hood before quickly covering it again while shaking his head. It was hard to tell at first whether he was happy or angry with this outcome.

He took out a small flask from his bag and popped the cork with his teeth before pooring out a viscous opalescent fluid over the body. Then she saw him lowering his head a little and closing his eyes. His lips moved yet all the words he uttered but one were lost to the wind… “... father…”

The next thing and before she knew it the body self-ignited. There had been no spark, no flame… just a spontanous human combustion as if the heath emerged from within the flesh.

The warrior got up and took a step back as he watched how the body got slowly consumed by the unnatural flames. It started to rain again, yet the fire burned with unabated fury, a dark smoke rising up. The smell was comparable with a mixture of a coppery metallic component, burned liver and charcoal. Well, anything was better than to leave the body behind waiting till it bloated before it started to decompose and spread a noxious stink.

It rained heavily now and if she knew better she would say the flames had a will of their own, determined to devour the body to the last part. Her earlier question to him had just turned superfluous...

Her flawless complexion was several shades too pale, the rain beading on her face like tiny crystals. The wide haze eyes gazed upon the burning body in utter horror. She licked her lips and swallowed painfully, the crossbow now held loosely at her side by now numb fingers. Her eyes turned to him in a mute appeal, bewildered as she faced this waking nightmare.

Her voice trembled. “I did not mean to kill him...I just thought to scare him to give you a fighting chance. I am not a bad person...I really am not…” Her voice broke on a sob as a tear began to trickle down her cheek. “He...he was going to harm you...I had to do...something!” She tried to make sense of it all, the large warrior’s silence making it worse. Her whole body was trembling and she could see the dark spots dancing in her vision, her hand bracing against a tree as she swayed.


During her stammering the warrior looked over once at her before picking up his greatword and quickly putting an end to the horse’s misery. The blade still soaking with blood was slid in the scabbard on his back before he waded over through the deep puddles.

He stopped right in front of her, his hood already back on. She could feel his hands reaching out for her upper arms and gently motioning her to follow him to a rock protuding from a small cliff. Arriving there he motioned her to take a seat and moments later a dry towel was placed around her shoulders.

He crouched before her, presenting her an already opened drinking bag. The scent of alcohol undeniable.
“Ma’am…”

The pair of otherwordly-looking blue eyes watched her as she took some of the booze in. “That… was very foolish of you… yet I am in your debt.” It’s not that he sounded reproachful, rather more… with some concern in his dark deep voice.

[leviticus]

She was trembling, both with shock and cold. The hazel eyes looked bruised, the soulful gaze staring at him in a mute appeal for him to somehow change the past ten minutes. She obediently drank what he handed her, the eyes then widening and tearing up as she choked on the hard liquor. The welcoming warmth did not seem to be worth the taste to his avenging angel.

His voice hit her ears like a melody, her eyes moving to meet his own gaze. She was finding it hard to breathe, be it due to the strong drink or his eyes focused on her fully. She licked lips that felt dry in spite of the fact that she was now soaked through from the rain, tendrils of hair sticking to her cheeks. “Was he going to kill you?” There was naked hope in her voice, hope that she could somehow justify her taking of a life.


A brief silence before the man responded, glancing over his shoulder.

“Rest assured, he was, just like he did with others,” the dark-haired warrior said while pointing in the direction of the horse. Three spherical bony objects with several holes still hung around the steed’s neck. Trophies.
He tried to sound a bit soothing,” Heh… you killed one of the bad guys… don’ worry ‘bout it.” Though his voice contained something else too. Was it… respect?


She watched how he build a fire with the few branches and some material from his backpack. It was only little… but it seemed meant for her.

She sat there, so small, shivering with shock and drenched with rain. The hazel eyes never left him. His reassurance had her shoulders straightening a little, as if his words or his voice gave her strength. She inched to the fire, letting the warmth envelop her. “My...name...is ...Cecilia.” Her teeth chattered, her voice soft. “It is...nice to formally meet you, though one could ask for better weather...and circumstances.” She tried to make a joke, but it seemed as if it was to raise her own spirits, as if she was trying hard to find her footing again.


“Hmm”. Once again he seemed a man of not many words, but this time that could also due his own mind being occupied by what just happened.
He shook his head to himself, wondering if she was expecting or waiting for him to explain and clearify the situation. Yet, she was a bardess and he didn’t feel much for him being part or even the subject of one of her songs or tales. And he wished what just happened hadn’t drawn anyone else in it.

The man glanced over at the petite female and took some dried meat from his backpack. “Here, that’ll give you your strength back,... heh.” The way he offered it was almost as awkward as the way how he tried to comfort her. But he simply didn’t know how else, and he wasn’t exactly known to be the man of the right words.
He was just a lone wolf not much used to conversations, let alone dealing with the company of a girl in shock. He wondered a moment though. Whereas bards are commonly known as travellers and supposed to have witnessed at least a few things in person, this girl appeared rather 'fresh' with cases like these. More and more he got convinced she didn't match with the settings in which he'd encountered her thus far.
He could only imagine it was a good thing she didn't caught a glimpse of the one she took out.

The warrior glanced at the still massive dark-gray rainclouds above them. Here and there sunbeams hesistantly poured through narrow openings. Soon it would clear up and it only seemed wise to escort her back to civilization before he resumed his journey. He looked over at the female who had been watching him all the time,... he just knew as he sensed it.
He felt… uneasy.

Nonetheless he recalled what being polite meant. “I’m Grey…” he said with a rumbling voice.

[leviticus]

After an hour or two and having the girl comforted as good as he was able, Grey led Cecilia back to the city. The sky had finally cleared up and a ‘doomsday’ seemed to have been averted. After another two hours they reached the strong northern wall of Waterdeep.
Grey picked the great gate which often also welcomed ladies and gentlemen of nobility, priests and other dignitaries.

Grey looked at her and said,” Those things you mentioned and needed, I think I may be able to help out. I happen to know some of it and seen a few merchants selling them on the markets. Perhaps if I can come with you, I can help with gathering them and you can make your delivery just in time?”

Cecilia blinked at this rather strange man whom she had killed for and whom had just spent the past few hours comforting her in his unique and quiet way. The offer of help came as a surprise and she could not help but give him a slow smile, her expressive face showing her pleasure. “You...you would do that? for me? Oh! Thank you!”


Grey just nodded and led her through the gate, passed the City Guard and together they vanished in the flow,... people this time. He wasn’t really fond of places where so many bodies huddled together. Good for him the market was less crowded yet bustling enough. Vendors shouted non-stop from every side. They passed a long fish stall and the salty stench of sea creatures filled his nose thrills. Suddenly before him the crowd of people parted and made way for a pompous looking man followed by three men barreling the wine he just bought. One of visitors, some older guy with a beard responded too late and landed on a table filled with fruit as he had to jump out of the way. That elicited a stream of insults produced by the merchant, but what was done was done. Fruit was trampled and squeezed by the once more hustling passersby and was irretrievably lost within seconds. Fresh aromas of citrus and other exotic good filled the air.

The two stopped at a shop from which the smell emanating made their noses tingle. The mixture of onion, garlic, dried fish, pepper and spices sure made a potent combination.

“Alright, I’ll start looking between these and the ones on the other side of the street. Right behind the corner there…,” Grey pointed at the intersection a hundred feet further up ahead,”... to your left you will also find a few of those ingredients. I’ll join you in a bit.”


A day that had started so badly was looking up. Her lips had twitched with amusement at the scene in the market, the smile growing as the scents and sounds of the bustling market piqued her interests. She turned to watch her large companion a moment as he made his own way, her cheeks flushing a bit. He was attractive, when one got past his surly manners. And his voice was one that she would never tire of hearing. Her smile turned wistful as she recalled that the only reason he was treating her so nicely was the fact that she committed murder for him. That thought sobered her quickly, her shoulders slumping as she made her way to the place that Grey had indicated.

As Cecilia cornered the building she noticed immediately Grey was right. The shop and what she needed was right there. As she entered the street and started to make her way towards the shop, she heard a few young lads laughing behind her. She glanced over her shoulder and widened her eyes. But it was already too late. She had seen them and with it… they her.

She started to make her way to the side of the street, closer towards the building in attempt to reach Grey. But she couldn’t evade them anymore and he was leading his friends to seal off every possible exit. Until she found herself with her back against the wall.

“Well heylo!” the blond bard from the tavern said jovially,” Hey… and where’s your friend now?”

Cecilia swallowed, her hazel eyes betraying her fear. The way they cornered her had her back pressed against the wall, her form shielded from the sight of others. Her eyes darted about nervously as she realized that few would even be aware that she was in danger. Her only way out of this was sheer bravado. “He will be right back…” Her voice trembled slightly as the blond bard just smirked at her. It was obvious that he did not believe her stammered words at all.

“Yeye… well, I think it’s about time we get to see some of that skin of yours. C’mon baby… flash’em for us and we’ll be on our way. Good to go!” He laughed and grinned mischievously while poking one his grinning friends with his elbow.

“Yeeeeaaa, c’mon baby, show’n them breast won hurt a’bit,” the other said.

A third licked his lips deliberately while another made suggestive shaking movements with a half closed hand while pushing his tongue against the inside of his cheek.


The guys being excited by the prospect of some nudity, all forgot to pay attention to what happened around them. Suddenly a massive, black mountain tossed one of them aside like he were a fly and the blond bard found a hand strong as iron around his neck which squeezed his throat like a sponge and interrupted his breath. His eyes almost popped out while his hands effortlessly tried to pry the fingers that felt like a blacksmith’s pliers away. Just before he started losing his conscious and his face began to color from red to white, the hand let go and lifted his chin up so that he could see who he was facing.

The blond bard widened his eyes as he recognised Cecilia's savior. Too close, he was way too close!

“Hi,” a frowning Grey said before he headbutted the handsome face without warning, crushing the aristocratic nose and turning it into a scar for life. As if hit by a sledgehammer the bard flew back though without dropping to his knees.

The gigantic warrior wasn’t finished yet and the ‘friends’ around him didn’t really seem prepared to assist their unfortunate friend. Grey grabbed the man by his ears with both hands, and yerked the head forward making the assailant bend over. Simultanously the dark cloaked man punched his armored knee frontally in the man’s face making his body flip backwards.

With his legs somewhat spread and his hands in his sides, Grey loomed over the heavily injured face,” Didn’t I already tell you you had your shot? She’s with me. And now … get the hell out of my way!”

Grey only had to point at them before the friends quickly grabbed the semiconscious bard and dragged him off with his heels bouncing over the cobbles.

Cecilia's mouth had opened in a little “o” of surprise as the giant of a warrior quickly dispatched all of her tormentors. The way he moved showed a confident nature, each step he made betrayed a training in battle. The crunch as Grey’s knee made contact with the blond’s face made her cringe, her cheeks paling as blood splattered.

Then she heard the rumbling words that he spoke, the golden green eyes stealing to his face as he claimed her. She knew that he did not mean it as it sounded, yet she could not help the little thrill that went through her at the thought of a man like this at her side… as in always. Her cheeks flushed with pretty color again as her lashes shielded her eyes in fear that he would read her thoughts.

Her lips curved in an impish smile as she murmured. “Does this make us even...because I do still really need those herbs?”

[leviticus]

Grey turned to the girl with his arms crossed, his facing wearing an inscrutable expression. “We get your herbs and then we look for another inn.” He motioned her over to the stall up ahead and started to follow her, like a shadow… while his shadow practically covered her entirely.

“Another...inn?” Cecilia's voiced squeaked. “Errrrr …I cannot afford another inn...my room is part of the job...I sing and entertain and I have a place to stay…”

“Do you like to pay with your life then?” He jerked his head in the direction in which the little gang had taken off. “Do you really think we scared them off? Boy, blondie will come even after me for that mark I set on his face, heh.”

The wide innocent eyes showed hints of anger and dismay even as they filled with tears. “What the hells is wrong with people? I just wanted to be left alone...now I won’t have a job...or a place to stay. What am I supposed to do now?”

Grey showed some disgust towards her tears,” Listen, you little midge. If you hadn’t saved my life and I would have had the time, I would have dragged your sorry rear to a more decent part of this city and dump you in a temple of whatever god it is you worship so that they could teach you some sense and wisdom. You -don’t- belong here.” Well, now she knew at least what he had been thinking about her in the past weeks.

His words had the sprite of a female throwing the brown mane of hair back and the smile turning into a scowl. The hazel eyes blazed as she lifted her head with the pride of a queen. The voice that came was smooth as silk, but the tone frigid. “I do not belong -there- any more than I belong -here-...and anyone who tries to force me to live the way -they- think I should can just go to blazes.” The look in her eyes was almost one of betrayal, so sadly accusing. “Thank you for your aid...Grey...I absolve you of any responsibility for me.”

Of course he was sorry for his outburst, even on the second right after. But the words that came out rather matched with how he had felt about her in the beginning. Now… he had no clue. Then why he said it? Well, first because he disliked it when she showed weakness, and two, by saying things like these one could trigger interesting reactions, including perhaps some answers. He had to admit to himself he found her at least interesting.

Cecilia turned almost blindly, moving to walk away from him, her shoulders slumped. For the first time in over a year, she had felt a connection to someone, only to hear how he saw her...a foolish child, a being deserving of only pity. She cursed under her breath as she began to walk away, a solitary figure even in the crowd. She would not look back, not now. If all she had left was her pride, she would guard that well.

Grey frowned and picked up the bag with ingredients he had bought. Well,... at least they would be going in the same direction. Noticing she didn’t look back at all had him worried slightly. What if she didn’t even accepted her goods, the ones needed to finish her work? Murmuring softly under his breath Grey started to follow her after quickly buying the final ingredient. That merchant had been a lucky one as she got to keep the change.



Thirty minutes later he saw how she pushed open the door of their inn rather fiercely and headed in. He waited a few more minutes before entering himself. He peeked around the taproom but didn’t immediately see the girl. Instead, Grey moved to the kitchen and knocked at the door, the bag with ingredients hanging on his curled forefinger.

“Yes, what?” a chubby lady emerging from the kitchen asked.

“The groceries and ingredients, ma’am. Miss Cecilia asked me to pass them on.”

The kitchen lady nodded and accepted the goods,” I’ll have her payment ready, do tell her that.”

Grey frowned a little at that,” I’m not sure if I’ll be able to tell her that as I’m planning to move out. And I think she will be soon sleeping up in her room, heh.”

The woman rolled her eyes,” Here then, before I forget it.” She offered Grey a small pouch with coin and pointed at it,” I had that ready here for her. If you would be so kind to help me and take it to her.”

“Your trust in me is high, ma’am.”

She lifted her chin, not impressed at all by his appearance,” First of all, we know you. You are regular customer and a good customer. Secondly, if I would have to find out you are gone with that poor girl’s money… I will personally myself come after your shapely rear and I will give you a spanking from which even your mother could learn. Is that understood?”

Grey chuckled softly and nodded,” Yes ma’am. Understood”

She jerked her face in the direction of the stairs,” Now git.”

As he made his way to the stairs, Grey didn’t hear or see how the woman behind his back pulled on a servants arm, whispered something and giggled before disappearing in the kitchen again.



Two minutes later Grey stopped in front of her door.

In her utter fury, Cecilia neglected to close the door completely, not that it mattered. Within the small room, the bard was piling her scant belongings on the bed. The colorful scarves that she had hung to make the room a bit more a home were folded carefully and placed in her pack. Then few bottles of perfume and her brush carefully cushioned by the scarves.

She looked around a few moments, letting her slender shoulders slump as if they bore the weight of the world. “Well, we were overstaying our welcome here anyway, right?” She talked to herself as she emptied the contents of her purse, counting the pitifully small pile of coins as she replaced them. “It was never as if this was to be a home, right? We can find other work...it is just another adventure…” She tried hard to convince herself that this was a good choice as she packed up the rest of her things, taking extra care of her lute.



The door behind closed suddenly. “Good choice..”

As she suddenly turned around she saw -him- standing in -her- room. But before she could say something, surprised as she was, the warrior walked over to her bed and tossed the small pouch next to the pathetic pile of change. “Your compensation for the ingredients.” He walked back to the door, opened it and looked over his shoulder,” I’ll be waiting outside for you.”

Enraged by him once more, she moved with the swiftness of a striking snake, her hand grabbing the small pouch and rearing back to throw it at him, just as he turned to speak. He could see the confusion in her face as the hand holding the bag fell at her side. Her head tilted, her mouth opened then closed, then opened again. “Waiting...outside...for me?”

He looked at the pouch that hit he floor. Then he looked up at her,” As I said, I’ll be outside. We move… tonight.” And before she was able to raise more questions, he closed the door and grabbed his own belongings next door. More than a minute or two he didn’t needed as he hardly used the place and always used to prepare his bags to never return.

He took position next to her door, leaned against the wall and lifted up his leg. As his feet rested against the wall, Grey looked up at the ceiling and yawned, wondering where he had gotten himself into.

Only a few minutes after, the scent of citrus and vanilla answered him. Her lovely face was still clouded with anger and pride, but she just waited silently. Her chin was set at a defiant angle and the hazel eyes that had haunted him blazed with sheer determination and spirit.

Seeing her this way caused mixed feelings within him. On the one hand he regretted her anger towards him, anger he was responsible for. He didn’t care much what people thought of him but hoped she wouldn’t be like this forever. She had been one of the few people he exchanged few words with and above all she had saved him.

On the other hand, he was proud seeing her like this, a cat who stood up for herself. She looked hard and tough now and totally not like someone who was at the edge of despair. Perhaps this could be something and this girl was a whole lot more than he had first expected. She had this inner strength.

He blinked once and then furrowed a brow as he saw her waiting,” Hm, right. I’ll tell you where we go when we get there, heh.” He offered her an explicit look as he glanced left and right. The walls had ears.

[leviticus]

A week later they found themselves in what Grey called one of the ‘better’ parts of the city, or rather the uptown section. Grey shrugged to himself. Well… better as in... here all the streets been paved and appearing clean, and the houses not so tiny or clustered together. Less crime... that was yet to be seen as there were other sins one could commit.
It was clear though rich people resided here with their fancy front yard gardens strewn with roses, perennials and an assortment of other colorful flowers next to a few smaller trees, all ‘protected’ by ridiculous knee-high metal fences. It were silly little shrines of nature asking a lot of maintenance to preserve the current looks, and the reason for their existence was merely to show off as the gardens were hardly used. He smirked. The chance to catch a gardener in them was a lot higher than to see one of the owners around.


As the duo crossed the cobblestoned market square two watch street patrols dressed in the green, black and gold of the City Watch marched past. The thumping sound of their boots bounced off the buildings’ facades across the square while the iron rings of their studded leather armours jingled and tinkled under a clear, purple-tinged sky. It were eight of the sixteen hundred people who served in Waterdeep as a police force and who ensured the well-being of all its inhabitants.
Grey shook his head to himself. Well, almost all of its inhabitants as he hadn’t noticed many of these patrols near the harbor in the area where they first had stayed. Nevertheless the Watchmen all carried a horn on their belts to summon aid… but perhaps they ‘just’ avoided that section for ‘other’ reasons?

He glanced at Cecilia and suddenly wondered what he was still doing at her side. He looked back at the large patrol for whom people hastily made way, and witnessed how the soldiers marched towards one of the narrow sidestreets, probably about to arrest some criminal. He and Cecilia just could have turned to one of the senior commanders here in the city and asked for protection over the bardess.

But... then again... he also would have had to explain how he got involved and how he earlier ‘prettified’ one of the city noble’s sons, with a bit of ‘luck’ perhaps even one of the prominent ones. Grey didn’t feel up for that. He knew he was good with his fists, but not so with words. Unlike… Cecilia who… granted… knew how to work herself around people and who for instance ‘negotiated’ over prices with the innkeeper, even though her ‘companion’ was the one who was paying…

After everything that had happened in his past... he felt like a pig in the clover when guiding and escorting people on their journeys and occasionally telling them a little about the land. But for the rest he wasn’t much of a talker, not -that- educated, not -that- highly trained, and certainly not too talented. He scratched the back of his neck as he recalled an uncomfortable prospect...