Death of a Legend

[Lau]

The wind was sweet that morning carrying the smells of the old orchard and sweeping them throughout the village, a lonely little speck on the grand map of Ilagrad. Nonetheless an important place, a place to protect but above all else it was a home. It wasn't grand, to be perfectly honest it was little more than a few houses with an abandoned courthouse at it's center, but abandoned is the worst word for the place, its old timbers and worn stone walkways held a certain warmth in them the years of cruelty within these walls had been washed away by the hearts of those who now called it home, and this warmth heated their hearts and souls even in the of the coldest winters. This place was now an orphanage, a school and a home thanks to a living legend, Melchior though tattered and forgotten he is no less than a hero. These days he goes simply by 'oldman' leaving his notable past to whither while he pursues a means to pass on what knowledge he had to the next generation in hopes that they will undo the wretched nightmares that haunt his mind.

"You see master, I am the best." The twisted chuckle was never far from his thoughts.

He can still see the blood every time he closed his eyes "What have you done?! You fool! I will end you myself!" Words and actions all dripping with regret and remorse.

"But master I..... No I don't want to fight you I...I just want to prove-"

"That you are a raving beast that needs to a be put to the sword, yes you've proved that perfectly!" The enraged words only served to remind Melchoir of failings not of he student, but of the master.

This is why one can always see his thin silhouette up on the east hill top just across White-river Bridge; the only noteworthy landmark for miles around the great stone walkway wide enough only for a small cart yet spanning the deep pit below into the White river itself. A furious waterway cutting a deep scar across the land, its features making ti seem alive, the rocks would chew and grind away at the rafts brave enough to set off down this river, when the raft failed the boatsmen were swallowed by the current and dragged to oblivion. This is known to many at the river's end it spits out what remains casting them over the Thunder cliffs and into the open sea.

The mystery of why Melchoir chose to make his home here, in this backwater village came to be something of folk lore each story becoming more fantastical than the last, regardless of the stories he watches every sunrise from his seat among the ancient roots of the old oak standing alone against the burning horizon. He sits in silence there like any other day sword next to him forever sheathed forever silent as it leaned up against the oak, casting a gaze toward the weapon one could see a sadness in his eyes.

His students were going about their daily routines the chores in Melchoir's words "remind you that you are no greater than the man next to you," they ensured the villagers saw to the orchards the heart of this village trading the fruits and wines that were the envy of all. The traders were to arrive today paying in the little things this village could not go without, and as always a sweet young woman sat at the bridge playing a solem melody upon her flute biding the time in wait for the traders.

He passed with a smile which she returned with a nod, and the villagers that crossed his path all seemed to feel the same rarely speaking a word yet their eyes spoke volumes which words failed to convey. The old gate into the courthouse hung open welcoming him into the courtyard his students beggining to gather for the morning excersise, Thomas the senoir student leading them in the warm up. Melchoir positioning himself at the front of the group with a stern measuring gaze Thomas turning and bowing to his master as the other children followed.

"You've done well Thomas, it's a shame you'll be leaving soon." Malchoir's pride shone through for all to see, but the same could be said of all his students, they made him proud and gave him hope for their future.

"Yes master it'll be hard to say goodbye." Thomas spoke as his eyes cast over his classmates.

A reassuring hand fell upon his shoulder "Never say goodbye Thomas." Thomas was perplexed by his master's words and showed it in his face Melchoir chuckled to himself "You'll understand someday." his warmth turned to the group "Okay Thomas continue." He waved them to begin following Thomas' lead. Melchoir needn't worry about the older students, his gaze searched through the ranks of the younger ones. He found one young girl struggling falling and stumbling, crying in frustration, Melchoir gently pulled her from the group.

She was overly concerned, and began to weep "I'm s-sorry m-master, I know I'm not very good b-but I'll get better I promise!"

He knelt down taking her hands in his with a smile his deep blue eyes focused on hers "you don;t need to make promises, the only thing you can do to dissapoint me is to give up so keep trying." He stood and began to instruct her a little more in depth, and she began to smile once again as she began to get her feet. Melchoir nodded and sent her to rejoin the class, this was 'more than he derserved' he thought with a sigh.

The training went on like any day before it, him watching with a keen eye, a student became prideful in victory demeaning his sparring partner, stepping between the pair "Well done now go help prepare dinner."

"But master that's-" the student protested.

"You obviously do not require training here, maybe you will learn to humble yourself preparing dinner." It was his way of teaching, it was more than skills, much like knowledge opposed to wisdom, many man knows how to kill, but few are wise enough to understand the consequences until it was much too late.

[Lau]

It was something in the air that sent a chill through his old bones, the distant echo of rattling metal, in this instant he called for all the students to gather the villagers in the courthouse. The only fortified building, a single entry and tall thick walls they would all be safe, Melchoir grabbed Thomas by the arm and looked him in the eye trusting only the most senior student with the unlock mechanism inside the courthouse, the seventeen year old nodded knowing what he had to do 'none would leave and none would enter'.

This boy was just one year away from being sent into the world like all others, the Oldman was very strict about this; none that he taught could stay in the village past a certain age, but that was a reason he never revealed.

With the Villagers inside he closed the door and had it locked "Oldman what's going on?!" he walked away from the door ignoring the pleas and questions that seemed to drown out in the gentle breeze, he breathed deep with closed eyes letting the sweet smells of the orchard to fill his lungs, and the memories of his students filling his heart, one voice seemed to break him from this focus, the little girl "You're coming back right?" he smiled feintly, somehow he knew the answer yet he was reluctant to speak it aloud.

What he said to Thomas rang in his heart "Never say Goodbye." Thomas would learn that meaning sooner than he intended, as he cast a final heart felt smile his eyes saying 'farewell' for him as he walked calmly across the bridge. Twenty men came across the plains as Melchoir took a seat by the old oak laying the old sword across his lap. The wind pulling at his white hair, the cool breeze causing his clothes to flutter around him.

The horses came to a stop, Melchoir's eyes measuring the lead man draped in red. He was in sharp constrast to those at his side, a man of finer tastes his sliver mask glimmering with every shift in movement, as clasps used to hold the cloak and belt tight did the very same. His black hair hung back writhing like snakes as it was teased by the wind, an image only interupted by the burning green eyes transfixed on Melchoir.

"Melchoir, I'm glad to see you alive." a familiar voice though weighed down by the past.

"I wish I could say the same but I'm afraid the man I knew has long passed from this world." Melchoir's thoughts betrayed his words, deep beneath his regret lay a hope kept burning but barely bright enough to realize.

"Neither of us are who we used to be," He almost sounded nostalgic "but I promise we're both very much alive."

"Ofcourse Samuel people like us aren't allowed to die, consider it penance for our sins." His answer stood to mark a bond between these two, not as enemy's but almost like old friends.

"Indeed, but our sins were necessary, and I'm afraid I'm to commit a few more before I'm through with this life." Regrettable words that led to only one conclusion.

"I'm afraid that path leads you over my grave." Melchoir stood and paced over to the mouth of the bridge, his thumb pressed upward against the hilt the sword almost begging to be drawn as the tension mounted. The men accompanying this Samuel dismounted seeing an old man as their only opponent they were like animals baring their teeth, they readied crude weapons axes, clubs, shortswords and chains, every bit as barbaric as the men that weilded them.

"This should be interesting." Samuel raised his hand a waved his men forward, the blood thirsty cry from each and every one of them seemed misplaced, had they known what awaited them at that bridge such confidence would've been much harder to find.

The Oldman dropped only one foot back into a defensive stance as the first man came at him . A simple flick released the patient sword from it's sheath flowing forward through flesh as it would the air itself, felling him as he stumbled off the bridges edge, Melchoir was taking small steps back bringing them further in he needn't land killing strokes here he could merely send them screaming to the abyss below. One step foward one downward stroke and a deep gash stumbling the next fool Melchoir driving a shoulder into him and yet another fell into the river, before he could measure the next step a lumbersome swing came from above. Melchoir stepped quickly to the side taking the beasts head in a clean upward stroke shoving yet another body into the river Melchoir couldn't waste a single step as he now found himself centre of the bridge.

"Enough, I grow tired of feeding you these fools besides they served their purpose." Samuel swept from his saddle to the ground in a measured fashion, his own men looking to him with disdain. "What? Did you really think any of you could kill him, and since that's the case none of you are getting paid." He chuckled, his eyes still on Melchoir as if to say 'watch this'.

He stirred them into a rage against him, these men were butchers for hire and Samuel had the money, but the first to approach him barely heard the blade leave its sheath before he began gurgling and coughing blood, while the tip of Samuel's wicked blade sat at the thug's left shoulder. In an instant Samuel had cut his throat, the thug's mind had yet to catch up to the fact. Another moved in Samuel shoved the first away with a single hand letting the next get close ducking the axe and curling around kicking in the back of this ones knee letting him fall onto a quickly drawn dagger now finding a home buried between the ribs of this foe. Samuel rolling away pulling the blade from flesh, and readying the longer of the two seamlessly thrusting into the chest of the closest opponent. Stopping at this one he announced "Melchoir and I need to speak privately....leave." Samuel wanted this for himself and these buffoons would only ruin the moment.

There were none left willing to fight, he shoved this impaled foe to the ground letting him bleed out while the few remaining men fled with their lives. Samuel's chuckle seemed hollow from behind that faceless mask. "I'm glad your skills are still sharp, I had to be sure and as you can see I've kept up my training." He confidently turned his head for a moment to see the fleeing men, only to chuckle "Mercenaries and thugs so many yet so few know anything about fighting, it's amusing isn't it?" Samuel unclasped the silver chain that held the cloak around him and let it drop, sheathing the dagger and with a quick flick cast the blood from his weapon to the ground. Unlike the simple and elegant katana that opposed him this single edged longsword had a wicked form, it's handle curling into a serpent a red jewel captured in it's jaws. He calmly stepped forward the sword pointed downward the tip grazing the trampled and blood soaked grass "It's been some time since I've had a worthy challenge, I do hope I don't dissapoint you."

Melchior watched Samuel carefully "Your skill never dissapointed me, it's your disregard for everything else."

"What else matters." they took their positions across from one another, Melchior gripping the handle of his sword and pulling it to his shoulder, and awaiting his opponent, while Samuel bowed. Time seemed to pause as if the world itself were taking a deep breath in in anticipation. In the blink of an eye the sound of steel rang loud and clear the pair had almost traded places in a single step Melchoir had come in with a downward stroke while Samuel counterd by coming in from an angle, the one to make any mistake at all would be the first to fall this wasn't about strength to either of them it was about skill each time they met they aimed for a clean stroke though Melchoir kept to the defensive. Neither gaining any ground on the other as the battle went on, Melchior's moves smooth and flowing truly a thing of beauty rolling through a thrust into a horizontal cut only to be stopped by a rigid and sudden twist. Samuel pulling the attack passed him to catch the Oldman's blind spot only to find a him gaurding in anticipation it was this blind instinct that was keeping Melchoir alive his body simply reacting to the situation unlike the calculation of Samuel's every strike. The fight reached a peak as they found themselves beyond eachothers' reach, it was single moment that no one could miss both men set heavy into their stance, they unleashed that final move Melchoir finding that hole in Samuel's defense that which arrongance left blind to him, it was the very same moment that haunted him for all these years. His attack slowed as he found himself pulling away but an inch, Samuel too saw the past but he refused to step away this time he drove his thrust forward finding the heart.

[Lau]

A sacrifice in defense was the only way to end this battle, take the blow and deliver the killing blow. Blood dripped back along Samuel's blade, a small trail staining the stones of the bridge Melchior doubled over clutching his chest Samuel standing tall despite the cut that lead up across his shoulder toward his neck only to cut across the mask which now bore a deep scar across the left face and over the eye. He knelt to his defeated opponent sheathing the weapon, and picking up the sword of Melchior "You're right to say that Samuel died that night."

"Goodbye my son." Melchoir fell lifeless that word shuddering in this man's mind.

"Goodbye!" What was left of his heart had fallen to dust in these last moments "Wasted words." He spat returning to his feet his prize in hand "Let's see who they remember when I'm finished."

What Melchoir meant by never say goodbye was quite simple, few ever think about the word but its meaning revealed itself to Samuel years ago seemingly shattering his smug exterior, as he was brought to a whisper "Goodbyes are only for those you'll miss but never see again. You should have said it sooner oldman."

(OOC:I'm building on this, Samuel is the villain of the story I'll post up the funeral for Melchoir where I'll introduce the character or characters, if you want me to include yours give me a shout and I will, I'll be writing my rule in the mean time.Now for my munchies bye bye.)

(OOC:Okay rules are,
1.your character must have been a student of Melchoir and just for an age reference he started teaching in his 40's and he died at the ripe old age of 76, and students are forced to leave the school and village at 17 and begin training as early as 6 so your character can be anywhere from 17 to 42 years old, and yes I did the math(here's hoping it's right)

2.Melchoir teaches more than just sword play, you may have one weapon mastery of any type(this can include a dual weapon style), or a matrial art be creative (try not to go overboard if you're not sure ask).

3.Any magic takes extra years(and not taught by Melchoir) to learn minimum of five so no young wizard prodigies the youngest mage would be 22. Magic is elemental only fire water earth wind and life, all of which require physical contact with said element, no fancy words or drawings needed (any questions come to me)

4.yes there are different races, no fantasy races though including (elves, orcs, vampires, or werewolves) the existing races are humans, and a large variety of Demi-humans (meaning human animal hybrids, they look human mostly but have slight animalistic traits teeth, eyes, claws, tails, spots, stripes, scales, gills. No wings sorry.)

okay enough rules have fun be creative, and DON'T MAKE ME WAIT...... Nah just kiddin.)

************************************************** **

Days had passed the villagers were waiting as messengers traveled the Outlands and beyond spreading word to the students of Melchoir, it was his will that his funeral be attended to by his students, all that remained at least many had died or simply vanished, one in particular prefered being unknown, but even he wasn't as heartless as to miss his teacher's funeral.

Kreagan was what he called himself these days, to those that he grew up with he was simply Elliot. He could remember the oldman's lectures "You'll be no more than a thug if continue along the path of rebbellion Elliot, you've got such talent but until you find a reason to fight your path is fixed." He huffed at the memory, funny thing was that he was right. He hadn't changed much over the years, willful and selfish not too mention having a short temper but that came with the territory. Being a leopard Demi let him blend with humans a little better than most, the most looks he got were when he looked people in the eyes, his poison green eyes and slit pupils staring through ash blonde hair seemed to make people shuffle back, he loved that effect. Few people ever noticed the layered grey spots along his jaw line a sharp contrast to his pale white skin, due to his long sleeves and high collars and the like kept people from seeing them running down his back, under his arms the back of his legs and his sides. If the cold looked into the eyes failed to shake the average human, a flash of sharp teeth did.

The mercenary life lead him down the road Melchoir warned him of, the oldman knew what he was talking about and it only took him to the age of 27 to figure that out. Kreagan sat drinking trying to figure what killed that stubourn old man, the rumours never mentioned it, and old age wasn't the likely cause, something or someone caught up to him, that was the only thing that made any sense. Kreagan laughed to himself "Damn oldman went and gave me a reason." He dropped a few coins and his cup before leaving the bar unfortunately his work had followed him.

"Kreagan!" Casting an annoyed glance over his shoulder, it was the same whelp that'd been staring a whole in his back the whole evening.

"What makes you worth my time?" Kreagan didn't bother turning around he just held his gaze as the cool night air whisked around him, it smelled sweet a nice change from the grunge and filth of the tavern it was a shame that this fool was willing to taint it with the smell of blood.

"You killed my brothers!" He couldn't help but to chuckle "what's so funny, did you enjoy it? Huh? DID YOU?!!"

"I don't even know who 'they' are, if they're dead they were stupid enough not to run....you should." Kreagan's weapon of choice was a longsword strapped to his back, at his hip was an ivory handled hatchet. either was a good choice but his best choice was the ground under him. His words drove the boy to charge screaming at Kreagan's back a dagger held high. A trick he learned came in handy for moments like this, raising a foot he spun around his incoming attacker and shoved him forward, bringing his raised foot to the ground hard as the fool stumbled forward and slammed into a wall of sand and stone, a few years spent learning earth arts came in handy, when a death wasn't deserved, but his abilities regarding it were lacking compared to many, he could shake and form the earth underfoot, while the one who taught this to him could sculpt and breath life into stone itself.

"Fight me!"

"No kid, learn how to use that thing and find me then, until then don't waste my time." Kreagan left him as the wall crumbled harmlessly around him.

It took three days by train, the lay of the land brought back memories of when he first arrived in Teachers village it was a laugh when he learned that Melchoir was responsible for the name that place endured. He remembered the distant hills and deep rivers and the obscene lack of forests just scattered hills and tall grass. Kreagan could remember staring out across all that as a child and praying for a thick jungle to appear, the comforts of home he thought. After the train it was a full days ride to the village, after passing the old oak it was official that he had returned to a place he never thought to return to alive, it was simply odd to find that he was the first to arrive, the villagers old enough to remember him didn't forget that troublsome child, most notably his tendancy to wreak havoc in the orchards the closest thing to his childhood jungle. Luckily his old habits of tree climbing were resevered for much larger trees.

He headed straight for the old courthouse, his home for many years only to find a young man standing in his way "You can't go inside students only."

"I was, name's Elliot Kreagan, the oldman wrote the names of his students on south wall right? Yours is there too I'll bet." He said pointing out the enscribed list, once a month Melchoir would pace out in the middle of the night with a lamp and chisel in hand, adding new names and going over the old ones.

"The rooms for you and other guests have been set up at Jacobs." Jacob the wine maker of the village Kreagan was surpirsed the kodger was still alive.

It wouldn't be long until others came over that bridge Kreagan wondered which faces would follow, a friend a rival or a new face his curiosity abounded with possibilities or maybe just maybe he was the only one left.

[fenrir]

It had been several days since a messenger had made it to the town he was staying in and he received word of Melchior’s death. It came as a surprise to him; true the teacher was getting older, but the last he had seen him he showed no signs of weakness because of it. Either the years had caught up with him since then, or something else from his past had. But what? Melchior had always seemed like he was always a part of the village, that he’d never been anything other than the teacher that gave the village its name. The idea that he had a dark past with secrets that eventually led to his death? It was an interesting idea, to say the least.

It had taken him a couple of days to decide whether or not to attend the funeral but eventually curiosity won out over his reluctance to return and now he stood beside the familiar old oak tree looking across White River Bridge. After one last moment of reconsidering he began crossing and the village in the distance grew closer.

There wasn’t much to see in the small town so upon crossing the bridge he headed straight for the courthouse, only to be stopped from entering by a young man, obviously a student.

“The funeral is for students only”

“Kenneth Atam, check the list on the south wall, you should find the name there. Are the students being housed in the courtyard? There won’t be enough space if too many people show up”

“I’ll check your name later, for now we’re setting all the returning students up at Jacobs, he has rooms ready for guests”

With a nod he turned away from the courtyard and headed towards the wine makers building. Along the way he passed by a number of people, some familiar, some less so, but after a while he noticed that a few of them were giving him lingering looks, or in some cases outright staring. He wondered if it was because they recognised him as well, or if it had something to do with his leather armour or the sword attached to his hip. It was probably the latter. They would get used to it eventually; with the funeral there were probably going to be a lot of armed former students arriving at the village.

Now that he’d thought that, he found it strange that he hadn’t seen another student already; not including the ones young enough to have not left the village yet. Was he the first? Was anyone else coming? Teacher village was quite out of the way for many and most would find it difficult to make it at all. No, that wouldn’t be the case; there were enough former students out there that he couldn’t be the only one to attend the funeral.

Upon reaching Jacobs, Kenneth pushed open the door and stepped inside. Anyone who had arrived already would probably be there, if they weren’t walking around the village. Briefly, he wondered if any familiar faces would be amoung those to attend, but he supposed he would find that out soon enough, it was only a matter of time until he ran into somebody he knew.

(Sorry, I didn't realise until after writing this that you'd placed Elliot in position so that he'd see anyone crossing the bridge. I'll leave it up to you to handle the next part though. Couldn't find a way to fit it into the post but he's fully human with short brown hair and light brown eyes, nothing unique. The sword he carries is a Flamberge (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Flamberge) if you want to look it up)

[Lau]

(OOC:no problem at all I can work with it)

Elliot hadn't taken the senior's words seriously rounding the old courthouse there was a spot he used to sneak through all the time the damaged south wall and the vine overgrowth. Elliot scaled the wall in short order swinging his legs over the top landing him on the other side. He knelt down his eyes darting about he wasn't about to let himself be seen, it wasn't exactly do or die but it was good practice like the oldman said "if you're not going to do something with all your heart, it's best not to waste your time with it." Skulking around this place unleashed a tidal wave of memories mostly of sneaking around when he wasn't supposed to, Melchoir lecturing him when he was caught.

He was looking for the training yard, it was simple curiosity with a touch of defiance, that kid wasn't going to deny Kreagan a thing. Most of the students seemed to be gone but a few remained going about their practices and lessons as if nothing had changed, the senior students leading the rest of them as the old man had taught them someone was going to have to take over, Kreagan could only think of three possibilities only one of them he liked as far as replacements went.

It wasn't long before he purposely called attention to himself "You do the oldman proud, I never did catch your name kid."

"You're not allowed in here?!" He wasn't happy, the other students froze unsure of what to do, others urging him to eject Kreagan from this place, he heard the name Thomas "So they call you Thomas, well Thomas You're the oldest you're in charge I want to see if you deserve to be." Kreagan removed his coat,setting it on the ground his weapons following soon after, Thomas measured this opponent with no intention of backing down the spots on his arms and sharp blackened fingernails didn't make this out to be the best of ideas.

"No worries kid I wont hurt you." Kreagan spoke plainly the other students cheering for their senior.

Thomas had to ask "Weapon?"

"None for me, but choose your favorite it might help." Thomas signaled to one of the younger students and they brought him a staff, Kreagan made a feral smile applauding Thomas' choice a staff oldman loved the weapon saying that "in the right hands a simple staff can be one of the most lethal weapons in the world" versatility was the key to it every part of a staff is a weapon you could strike near and far with unrivaled quickness this was going to be a good little sparring match. "Let's go kid your move."

Thomas was confident enough lunging forward to strike at Kreagan's stomach, he slapped the staff aside Thomas making another swing for his head, Kreagan ducking and moving to sweep the forward leg. Thomas instinctively avoided the sweep and wound into a heavy hit across Kreagan's back unbeknowest to Thomas Kreagan had a hold of the staff and his free hand moved to back hand the senior student stumbling him back. Kreagan felt that hit and was about to acknowledge the kid, but Thomas whirled around from the front stopping with a heavy slap Kreagan caught the staff in his right hand and yanked Thomas toward him, hisa left now clutching the boys throat squeezing enough to force him to let go of the staff before shoving the kid on his ass.

"You're good kid but gotta learn when it's over, short'n'sweet but good news is you deserve to be where you are." Kreagan picked up his things "See you later Thomas." Looking on the from the gate was a familiar face.

"I heard there was some trouble in here, should've known it was you Elliot." A human carrying sword nearly as tall as himself there was one name that came to mind.

"Yeah, I'm never far from trouble, it's time you got me a drink." Kreagan knew Kenneth well enough, mainly because his taste in weaponry it was hard to forget someone swinging around a sword that long.

"Why am I paying?" Kenneth spat back.

"I'm older, and you humans have all the money." Kreagan patted Kenneth's shoulder as he passed.

Kenneth smiled to himself "Still prejudice I see."

"Not if you buy me that drink." Kreagan just wanted a free drink, and Kenneth seemed to nice to turn him down.

[fenrir]

(I’m assuming the wine maker runs the tavern)

Kenneth relented with a sigh, “Fine, but you’re paying for the next one.” It was better not to argue with Elliot on these matters, the longer you did the more it ended up costing you when you lost.

“Come on, if you’re done picking on the kids I’ll get you that drink” they both turned away from the courthouse and began walking down the road towards Jacobs. “I have to admit, I’m surprised to see you here; from what I remember you and the old man didn’t exactly see eye to eye on a lot of topics”

“Even I’m not so heartless as to miss my own teacher’s funeral. Besides, I had to come and see for myself; I was sure the message had to be fake or something. I half expected the old man to outlive us and then I find out he’s dead”

“I know what you mean; so you thought the same thing I did, that someone or something must have gotten to him?”

Elliot looked surprised for a second before breaking out in a grin “Yeah, that sounds about right, god knows he was too stubborn to give in to old age. So who or what do you think it was?”

“Not a clue, but they’d have to be skilled to have beaten Melchior in a fair fight, or even an unfair fight. Maybe a former student? There had to be at least one out there with a grudge against him”

“Maybe… or maybe not, are you going to get me that drink or what?”

“Yeah sure” Kenneth got up and walked across the room to the bar. It was strange to think that a former student, maybe even someone they knew, could be the cause of their teacher’s death, but it was one of the few possibilities that made sense.

[Alleycat]

Early as usual, a twenty-something-year-old woman wandered down the street toward the melancholy building that she had grown up in. Walking inside she was immediately stopped by a young man, who seemed to be taking care of things in the old man’s stead.
“Students only ma’am, former students are being seen to at the tavern.” He said formerly. His words fell flat though as he saw the woman look around her with wet eyes. A single wet drop falling down one cheek brought her mind back to the present, and she smiled sweetly.

“I’m sorry, there is a great amount of nostalgia for me here.” She said, brushing a hand across her eye. Her other eye was covered with a black patch, no tears slipped under the black cloth; there wasn’t a tear duct on that side anymore. The young man cleared his throat, apparently unsure of how to handle the situation. “You seem like you are doing the master justice, I wish you well my brother.” She said, patting him jovially on the shoulder. She turned and left the building, her pace unhurried as she approached the tavern.

Souri had been a devout student of the master, picked up as an orphaned child long ago. She had been especially skilled with the chain scythe, and one lay coiled at her hip at all times, attached to the black belt fastened around her slim waist. After her graduation she had traveled to the east to study healing techniques, which eventually led her to gain an advanced understanding of water magic. She had been staying in a seaside town when she heard the terrible news about her mentor and immediately made the trek back to her home town.
They say it was a former student… This rumor was a true shame, but she did not allow herself to dwell on it for long lest she become bitter.

The tavern was a familiar place, made solemn to her by a certain lack of. It wasn’t just here that this lack permeated either. The whole town seemed emptier now that her mentor, the one she had occasionally called father, was dead. She ordered a hot drink to warm herself, though the weather was quite mild, and took a seat in a shadowed corner where she wouldn’t be bothered.

~~

“What can I get you?” The barkeep asked, his voice dying off slowly as Elliott took a seat. Noticing it, Elliot sneered viciously at him. The barkeep was not young, but not too old, and he remembered the frightening student named Elliot. He gulped and turned to the much safer Kenneth, far more comfortable speaking to one of his own race. About to give the order, Elliot interjected “Two of your finest ales.” He spread his faintly spotted hands on the smooth surface of the bar, the claws painfully obvious. The barkeep went straight to their order. A couple people who had been sitting at the bar previously took the drinks and moved away.

“Do you think we’re the only student’s who came? I haven’t seen anyone else I recognize yet.” Kenneth said, thinking out loud. The drinks came, the heavy glasses making a wet thud as they were set down on the wood.

Across the small room a woman stood up from her corner booth, carrying a steaming mug. She trailed the fingers of her left hand along the tables she passed, her slender, well manicured digits making small clicks against the furniture. Dressed in a gray sleeveless outfit reminiscent of an ao dai, she stepped carefully and consciously. She sidled up the bar, taking a seat in the empty one beside Kenneth. She had a gentle, slender figure that was slightly snakelike, her nails painted bright silver. She pulled the grey hood of her outfit off her head, silvery hair spilling out to just above her tailbone. She turned her heart shaped face toward Kenneth, a tired smile gracing her lips. “Unfortunately I believe many of our siblings may be dead.” She said quietly. Her entire appearance was one of pale grace, down to her chilly gray eyes. The only thing that marred her image was the black patch eye patch covering her left eye.

“It’s been a long time you two, how have you faired in this world?” she asked.

---
((OOC: I hope I did your characters justice))

[Lau]

"I survive." Elliot spoke without even turning his head, Kenneth glancing over to Elliot oddly "I saw her when we came in." Elliot answered him without Kenneth asking.

"How did you?"

Elliot took another deep swig of his drink "Considering how often I get jumped in and around a tavern I think'd it'd be stupid if I didn't start taking a notice of the people inside them," Elliot took yet another drink Glancing off to Souri briefly "oh I might mention my reputation hasn't changed much I've just spread that sentiment far and wide." Elliot snuck a half grin across the bar.

"Always causing trouble." Souri sighed.

"Don't cause it kinda follows me around." Elliot corrected her.

"Yes it does Lee-ote," A thick accent cut across the tavern.

"Her, I didn't notice." Elliot dove into his drink.

Kenneth and Souri slightly at a loss "Lee-ote, since when were you called Lee-ote." Elliot lost his previously pleasant demeanor staring them down.

Advancing from the back of the Tavern was this woman in an animal skin cloak held together by a bone clasp at her neck. Pulling at the clasp she let the cloak swing free to hang int on a nearby chair Elliot muttering to Kenneth "Don't stare." As she revealed a lean and muscular female form littered with elegant white stripes cutting lines across her solid olive flesh, and interrupted only by a short animal skin skirt and top. Her blazing yellow eyes zeroed in on Elliot a thick golden mane swaying barely below her shoulders as she closed the distance between here and Elliot swiftly kicking the chair from under him. It was strange to see a woman so beautiful yet looking as if she could break most men in half and Kenneth couldn't help but stare as she placed a bare foot across Elliot's throat.

"What is this Lee-ote you lied, sayin you'd be home after the last job and what are you doin dressin up as an 'Uman have you no pride!" Her words were half spoken as they'd be having little experience with the language.

Souri was curious she didn't recognize this woman and Kenneth woud never have forgotten a girl like this Souri was the first to speak "What's this about?"

"Who are you?! Lee-ote who is dis woman, if you disloyal to me I crush you here." Elliot sighed he never thought she'd follow him here, it was only a month.

"Elliot?" Kenneth chimed in.

"In human terms she's my wife. And Ferah get off me." She just pushed down with her heel now on his chest.

"Make me." Her accent hid a tone Elliot knew too well, and those challenging eyes.

"No just get off me." Ferah pouted and let Elliot stand.

Kenneth couldn't find the words, and Souri just grinned "You....married....umm I...I don't know what to say."

"Then don't say anything." Elliot almost growled.

"You still hav not answered me Lee-ote?" Elliot wasn't going to be able to slide past this one.

"I'm here for a funeral Ferah." She didn't know the word as spoken by the look in her eyes. Elliot spoke in a different language for a moment and anyone looking could see Ferah's heart drop.

"Am so sorry, I didn' know," She hugged Elliot the fiery woman had faded into warmth a sudden and strange transformation, Kenneth trying not to laugh at his fellow student.

"How'd this happen?" Souri asked.

"I learned earth magic from the Stranai Tribals near Sovvahn, a part of the deal was joining the tribe." Elliot just there hoping it would go unquestioned.

"And," Kenneth added.

"And what?" Elliot shrugged.

"how'd you two? you know.."

"I challenge him to a Chase." Ferah cast an evil smile over to Kenneth arms still wrapped around Elliot.

Souri chimed in "What's a Chase?"

Ferah just widened her smile showing sharp teeth to the woman before she sat down at the bar and finished Elliot's drink as he answered "I'll tell you if I'm ever drunk or stupid enough and she's not exactly a pushover." Elliot just knew that this would come up again. "All this talk about me is making me thirsty." He looked at the bartender who didn't bother to ask and just brought another drink.

"How about the rest of you?" Elliot asked taking yet another deep drink "You've seen the embarrassing parts of my life, now it's your turn."

[Lycan_Saviour]

wow man, thats really well written. Actually is better than some of the books you can find on the shelves.

[fenrir]

Kenneth looked back and forth between Elliot and Ferah before letting out a sigh, taking a drink then turning back to the others. “Alright, I’ll go next, but don’t think this means you’re off the hook Elliot, something tells me there’s a lot more to this story we haven’t heard yet”

“There’s not much to say to be honest. Once I finished my training here I just travelled for a while; it was the first time I’d even been outside the village, I wanted to explore, see the world. Of course that’s easier if you have money, so I became a mercenary of sorts, trying to put the skills Melchior taught us to good use. Mostly just work which involved providing protection to a client; escorting traders from city to city, protecting aristocrats with way too much money from their own paranoia, that sort of thing”

Elliot let out a laugh at this, “Too afraid to take on any real jobs then? Had to make your money babysitting?”

“I suppose I could have taken on the more traditional mercenary work if I wanted to, but maybe its better I didn’t; your way of doing things tends to draw too much attention. I’ve been in quite a few taverns where your names come up, along with a few death threats, and I’ve seen your face on wanted posters in at least one town so far; if the bounty was higher I might have been tempted to collect”

Kenneth took another drink before continuing, “Anyway, after a while I decided learn some magic, broaden my horizons a little bit. I found this old master who used to teach fire magic to soldiers for the military, he’d retired a long time ago but he still takes on the occasional student; and… that’s about it, spent a few years training with him and that pretty much brings us up to today”

Kenneth turned around in his seat to face Souri, “Your turn”

[Alleycat]

“It’s like story time.” Souri chuckled quietly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

“After I left I traveled, good deeds here and there. Then I went to the far east to study water magic, mostly out of curiosity. In exchange for protecting the town I stayed in and making deliveries for my teacher, he taught me. I’m at least proficient after several years by now.” She said modestly. She made the same unconscious hair brushing motion, and her hand strayed to the patch on her eye.

“And what about that?” Kenneth asked, gesturing toward the patch. She hadn’t had it when she’d left Melchior’s training.

“What about what?”

“Your eye! Don’t tell me water magic is so dangerous.” Elliot said, crossing his arms. Ferah draped herself on his shoulders, a glint of possession in her eyes. It was directed at Souri, who kindly ignored the subtle, unnecessary warning.

“My…Oh! Well, I was making a delivery to a house way out in the country side. I never knew what was in any of the deliveries, important things I suppose since I was often attacked on the way. It was very dark, there wasn’t a moon that night, and I was having trouble following the path.”

“Did you walk into a branch and poke it out? Humans are stupid like this sometimes.” Ferah said matter-of-factly.

“No,” Souri answered, doing her best not to be irritated with Ferah. She was from a different world, their views were different, etc. With a sigh she continued her story.

“I was attacked by a large group of robbers, far more than I’d dealt with before. I had no problem fighting most of them off, but one of them had a third knife hidden on his person, I suppose. I could barely see as it was, he snuck up on me and struck blindly. I killed him, but the damage was done. I can’t see out of it anymore, but it’s not so bad.” She said with a small smile.

“Not so bad?” Kenneth said, an eyebrow raised. He sometimes wondered if Souri had come from an abusive household, so ready was she to deny any sort of pain.

“You got your eye gouged, that’s not so bad?” Elliot repeated.

“Strong, but stupid.” Ferah added.

“I admit I let my guard down, I thought I’d taken care of all of them.” She said, embarrassed, looking down at her hands. There was a somewhat awkward silence, no one really knowing what to say after the story was done.

“Well you did nothing, Souri got her eye gouged out and the old man up and died. I think it’s been a pretty eventful couple of years.” Elliot summed up. “And don’t forget about us.” Ferah added.

“Didn’t I tell you to get off me?”

~~~

For the next few hours, the group reminisced about the past over numerous drinks. As evening descended on the quiet, introverted town, the young man named Thomas entered the tavern.

“Excuse me,” he said politely, but strongly, “all former students are to rest at Jacob’s until sunrise tomorrow, when the funeral will be held.” He said solemnly.

“Sunrise, eh?”

“Apparently he thinks even his former students still get up at the crack of dawn.”

“It’s kind of like a last training-session with him. Sort of.”

Thomas nodded to each person in turn, glancing warily at Ferah before saying a goodbye and exiting the tavern. There was silence, and before long Souri, Kenneth, and Elliot headed off to their rooms, all immersed in the past and fine ale.

((The funeral can come next, I wanted to make sure the story kept moving.))

[Lau]

(OOC:Appreciate the fanfare Lycan

PS:I'll have my next post up tonight my word
just ran into an aggravating situation where my whole post up and deleted itself my clumsy button pressing doesn't help either)

[Lau]

Elliot forgot how many drinks he laid into, but it was more than enough. A steady wrapping at his door roused him in this morning that came too early for his tastes it was Kenneth speaking through the door "It's time Elliot."

Elliot growled into his pillow knowing that this was going to be a long day memories of last night pounding back into reality in violent way "Ferah....get off me." Her weight shifting to challenge Elliot's lazy attempt to get up.

Reverting to Tribal tongue as she purred"That's not what you said last night."Her claws pressing into his shoulders a predatory smile at his ear.

Elliot responding in the same language "But that's not what I'm saying now is it?" Elliot rolled from under her Ferah pouting as she grasped lazily claws ranking gently down his arm as he separated himself from her. She rolled herself up in the sheets around her, watching Elliot as he searched the room for his clothes slipping into each item in turn.

"You should be proud of your skin Lee-ote, not hiding it like an Uman."Ferah admired the view as he did, lecturing as she always did she held no love of humans and knew Elliot didn't either, but his hatred was something she didn't quite understand.

Elliot just laid on another layer of sarcasm "You really love those loin cloths don't you."

"Ofcourse," Ferah smiled only to turn into another question "but tell me why spend your time among humans, you hate them so much I see it in your eyes Lee-ote but you surround yourself with them, you can't live both lives Lee-ote it will tear you up."Ferah was more serious about this trying to understand Elliot's reasons for keeping his culture hidden from everyone but those who shared it.

Elliot stared Ferah down but she wasn't budging, he breathed deep and looked to the door"You have to learn to separate your worlds, theirs and ours don't mix."

Ferah propped herself up against the headboard "No I don't Elliot I need only separate you from theirs." She smiled eying his clothes in particular, Elliot had a hard time staying mad with Ferah especially when she made comments like that, he made a light chuckle under his breath.

Elliot left Ferah for this early morning sojourn, his boot falling heavy on the stairs as he stepped down one after another Souri and Kenneth awaiting him at the door, Kenneth grinning at him like a idiot "What?!" Elliot barked.

"I'm just surprised you're standing after all you drank last night, Ferah almost had to carry you upstairs." Kenneth was mocking Elliot at his own risk but Elliot let it pass, most humans would sucking up sand but Kenneth earned Elliot's respect though he'd never tell him as much.

Souri had a more curious look to her "Ferah doesn't like you drinking does she?"

"Why do you ask?" Elliot didn't like the direction this was going, and had an idea what she was talking about.

"I don't know the language but she didn't sound happy, I could barely sleep last night." Elliot fought to keep himself without expression, inside was a mix of embarrassment and amusement.

"It's impossible to please that woman." Elliot managed to speak with a straight face.

Ferah came down the stairs still speaking Tribal tongue "I wouldn't say that Lee-ote."Elliot lead the way out the door without another word.

Rounding to the grave site, out by the old oak everyone of the village gathered together, and Souri and Kenneth were quick to join them. Elliot stood back a moment Ferah giving him a push forward, he smiled back to her nodding his head.

Everyone had their stories to tell, it was what Melchoir would've wanted, as it came around to Elliot he spoke simply "Me and the Oldman never saw eye to eye, and still don't, but he taught me that there's no shame in conflict as long as you learn from it, and there's no one I learned more from than him." This garnered a few chuckles from those who witnessed the 'conflicts' between Elliot and Melchoir through the years.

Stepping into the group unexpectedly was a giant of a man, balding head and blonde beard, with an ever present smile. Gregor Avvaly, Melchoir's friend and rival according all the stories out there. Gregor was in his fifties but was often visiting Teacher's village often aiding in training the students but Elliot found him too soft handed with many of the students, but that endeared him to many of them. Elliot likely assumed that Gregor came to take over the school.

"To many of you it's been a great loss," Gregor announced "but I've been trying to kill this man for more than half my life, I wish I could say it was a waste but I loved every battle against this man. He was my rival and when the wars faded away he was my friend, to you he was a teacher and to others something of a father...None may ever replace him, but I will watch over his home his friends and family, I can only prey that I earn the same admiration as Melchoir commanded from both friend and foe...... Rest easy my friend."

(OOC:You can fill in you're involvement in the funeral even a little history with Gregor, he's kinda like everyone's favorite uncle just as skilled as Melchoir just ten years younger, and he knows almost every student that Melchoir ever taught including Samuel our villain, I'll add that part in my next post)

[Alleycat]

((Sorry it's taking so long, I'll try and get my post up by tomorrow))