An Empty Mug, And A Dead Body - Altas Verde

[Anonymous]

The soft screech of a blade cutting air filled the brief moment of silence, and subsequently followed it was a death-announcing moan. The poorly clad man sharply turned with the blow of the long sword, the very tip of it piercing his cheek with ease, and along with it ran a crescent stream of blood that splattered out from the wound and to the nearby grass. His body hitting the ground face-first, he turned to once more glare at his opponent, but he knew without doubt what was coming next. With a twirl of the sword it was abruptly stabbed down into the bandit's heart, a gasp the last sound he would ever make. Messy black hair swung up as sweat clang to it, launched upwards as he Loegaire now faced yet another charging bandit. A grin crept his face as he withdrew the blade from his latest kill and with grace swung the sword down in an arc to the side of the newest opponent's throat, swiftly catching the jugular and killing the man, his body roughly hitting the ground from the power of the blade.

The Baron stood straight up and looked around him, bodies littering the ground, Bandits who thought this secluded village would be easy prey. They were quite wrong however, as it was their seclusion that helped them become such commendable warriors. All of the villagers trained in martial arts, how to wield weapons including nearby tools that could be used as weapons. It gave them an edge when they required it. Hunters firing their muskets at un-expecting Bandits, and farmers laying traps for the sorry fools.

His brother was around here somewhere; Storm wouldn't miss a fight for any thing, especially when it involved the people of this village. The attack had been initiated about a half hour ago, and Loegaire was fortunately in the nearby tavern when it did occur. Rallying his men, and the villagers to repel these men, he so far suffered no causalities. These first-time Bandits had charged to their own deaths.

There was only one path these Bandits could take to this village without being so obvious, and so it had become a suicide run as the villagers fortified and set up a combined defense of rotating muskets, and archers covering them as they reloaded. More Bandits ran up the slope to the village, now at the foot of this mountain, and along the path that rose up the mountain sat more archers who made sure the Bandits were not going from anywhere else.

All in all, these Bandits were doomed, and they would suffer their consequences, as fate seemed fit. He turned towards the villagers, a grin still present, and rose his long sword up as he spoke.

"For the House of Sarethquen, and the village of Tohk! We will cast these fools back down!"

They cheered with him, the thunderous roar of their voices combined echoing in and out of the mountain. Now, where was his brother?

[Anonymous]

The breeze carried down from the mountains the unmistakable smell of blood, accompanied by the wrenching sounds of death.  Hidden amongst the trees other bandits lie in wait, leaders of their fellows that charged up the mountains to their demise; horror etched upon their faces.  The village withstood the attack, completely intact, not a militiamen one had fallen.

One of them in particular, a giant man with a receding hairline and a face riddled with tell tale scars of fights hard won was trembling; not from fear, but from rage.  His boys weren't supposed to loose, this village was supposed to be easy prey, they were going to ransack the place and spend the night in stolen beds with women left defenseless.  Now...  Now they had lost.  

The giant of a man brought his crazed eyes to his feet where a small black demon sat in the grass, its neck tightly wrapped by a leather collar and a long chain that linked the creature to his belt.  It was an imp, named Hagop, who had been captured months earlier while this band of not-so-merry men had only just begun to assemble.  The creature had nearly escaped them, hidden as he was by his stealthy magic, but the rare fortune of one of the giant mans bandits having powers like that of a Mordecai from Connloath rendered his magic useless.  No longer hidden behind his shroud the demon was forced to submit, and has in part been fueling the success of the bandits and encouraging their growth ever since.

The man grabbed the chain fastened to his belt and yanked it dragging the imp into the dirt with an audible yelp.

"Do something."

Through choked breaths the imp replied with venom in his voice, but with his eyes trained on the ground.

"What do you desire of my, master?  A fire storm, a blessing from the nether?"

Sarcasm.  Even after his enslavement to this brute, and suffering through his ritualistic beatings to be 'taught his place' Hagop had lost not even a sliver of his own intolerable personality.  The man took notice very quickly and gave the imp's leash another quick yank, and hefted the imp up to eye level with himself leaving the tiny demon to dangle, chocking, from his collar while the bandit spat his orders one last time.

"Do something.  Get the ones that are alive out there, back here.  Now!"

The giant unhooked the leash and allowed the demon to topple to the ground and watched with cold eyes as the imp slowly clamored to its feet and walk away before disappearing into a cloud of smoke.

The farther away he got from the man the more visibly angered the imp became until it seemed as if he might start throwing stones back at the forest.  But he maintained a somewhat controlled composure until he reached the battle.  Musket rounds and arrows flew over head, and bandits were still falling while Hagop observed from behind his camouflaging spells.  With each bandit that died a bit of stress left the imp's form, feeling that his imprisonment was at last being repaid to some degree, but eventually he began to feel a warmth around his neck growing steadily hotter.

"Fine."

Disobedience to his master was not allowed; failure to comply would set off the magic within the collar, visiting a pain upon his small body that was unlike anything he had ever experienced before.  Fearful of the collars effects Hagop got quickly to work, and with the flick of his wrist a glimmer of light began to dance between the fingers on his right hand.  It moved delicately and slowly, weaving in and out of his appendages, but the light began to change from a soft blue glow to a black haze that surrounded the imp's entire hand.  He snapped his fingers, and the fog drifted from his hand to the ground where it exploded outward rolling in all directions around the demon.

His left hand began to work its own magic, little bands of green light encircling his fingers had appeared with small strings that dangled from each.  One finger twitched, then another, and another until his hand seemed to dance and the results manifested high above the imps head, in the form of a black robed, skeletal figure with fiery spheres sitting in its eye sockets.  Hagop clinched his left hand into a fist and the terror lifted one boney hand towards the villagers, and with an audible boom the robed figure spoke.

"Fear, for the day of your demise is finally upon you."

The bandits began to flee back from whence they came, while skeletal wings unfolded from the ghostly creatures back.  Sweat formed on the imps brow as he focused all his effort into the enormous illusion.  It seemed, at first, to work; as the villagers had no idea of what to make of the looming figure, and combat began to lull as the bandits tried to escape.

[Anonymous]

"Ignore the beast! Focus on the living!"

The villagers were hesitant at first, as they did not know what to take from it. They were expected to just ignore the large, skeleton-appearing, winged demon? Though they surely felt more reassured when Loegaire himself began approaching the demon, a fearless entity dancing within the restraints of his iris as his longsword remained drawn. He had never fought any beast like this however he a long time ago accepted that if a creature could not be killed, it certainly could be subdued. How did one kill something that lacked a heart or mind? No, one did not. However there was generally one common logic to dealing with the undead. Their organs had since long ago failed them, or now were completely lacking, and thus could not work on their own. No, there was a puppet master somewhere. A storm of arrows filled the sky briefly before falling upon fleeing, and charging Bandits both. Catching them as they passed each other. The muskets still trained upon them in case any managed to get close, and if they did, small balls of fury would tear through their fleshy bodies and cast them back down.

His grip tightened on the hilt of his weapon as he stepped up close enough to the seemingly undead creature, a grin still gracing his expression, and as it sat comfortably within the air above him he focused. Wind picked up and through his free left hand in recognition of this began to glow a slight pasty white, a visible aura surrounding his hand, and Loegaire then subsequently shot it forth underneath the demon, and then abruptly upwards towards it. Any thing underneath it would find themselves abruptly thrown back by the concentrated burst of wind, and the creature high above, if physical would suddenly be lifted higher into the air, though wildly so it would be twirled in every direction before it died down. His hand following these movements along with it.

This was meant to merely anger or annoy the creature if possible, and get it to focus on him. He had a better chance of winning this fight after all if the creature was on the ground.

"You attack the Sarethquen! You shall be struck down to the depths of our abyss!"

His battle cry echoed within the minds and spirits of his men, and with his presence, their morale only increased further as more and more Bandits found themselves laying in pools of their crimson blood. His confidence was radiating and the villagers were appreciative of it, however they found greater refuge in the fact that the Sarethquen soldiers now descended down the mountain towards the village. Steeds of multiple colours causing the earth to tremble, as they too announced their presence through battle cries.

No doubt his brother was off looking for the toughest Bandit he could find, to test his skill, and his apprentice was likely nearby learning first-hand the lessons of battle.

[Anonymous]

Unknown to the bandits, an even greater threat lurked in the shadows.  A hawk, majestic in its own right, watched the battle unfold before it.  It's piercing eyes watching as the Imp conjured the skeletal beast from the dead- watching the Bandit Leader stay far enough away from the battle to not get a scratch on him.  Suddenly the hawk flew from it's branch in the tree deep into the woods.  Out of sight, it landed on Storm's index finger.  Storm had magic that gave him the ability to hear the creatures of the wild.  The hawk spoke to him, told him of what it saw.  His face covered by a cloth, Storm's emotionless expression hid the amusement he felt inside.

Swiftly, Storm ran through the wood toward a clearing just behind the battle.  As he neared the tree line, his billowing black cloak and black clothes helped him stay out of sight.  His green eyes flashed with an inner fire as the large bandit leader came into view with the Imp on a chain.  Lowering his hands, his fingers wrapped around the two short sword hilts on his belt.  With a quick movement, the curved and edged swords were unsheathed and being spun around with delicate precision, both being held so that the blades were closest to his pinkies.  At this point, Storm had just broke the tree line and was a good ten feet from the Bandit Leader.

A silent sprint and a small leap sent Storm flying several feet of the ground towards the leader's right side.  Storm held both of his blades in front of him to block in any case he needed it and to swiftly strike his enemy once he got within range.  The first strike would be a downward thrust with his right blade through the right collar bone of the bandit leader.  The left blade stayed in a perfect position to block any incoming attacks.  If the attack landed, Storm would latch himself onto the bandit, if the bandit blocked, Storm would be sent backwards where he would have to recover quickly.  Swiftness was key to bringing down stronger enemies.

[Anonymous]

"Surely you jest?"

The most armored and skilled of the villagers was breaking the initial withdraw at the sight of Hagop's illusion, restoring the confidence of the village's defenders.  The imp ground his teeth, and muttered under his breath more than a few obscenities before he truly understood what was happening.

"Is-- is he coming over here?"

Slack-jawed, and short of words the little demon was dumbstruck by the audacity of the soldier.  Attack the lich?  Was he out of his mind?  Hagop's disbelief would soon be discarded as the man began to quickly close the gap between him and the skeletal creature.

"You never attack the lich!"

A lich was a terrible evil of unparalleled powers, and the imp had believed he had mimicked what one should look like perfectly.  No sane individual would approach his illusion, or so he thought.  But this human, this warrior, defied fear and confronted the evil head on.  Hagop gulped, and was then lifted into the air by the man's magic.
----

The bandit lord watched with utter satisfaction as the imp conjured forth a dark terror and as expected the battle lulled and his soldiers were beginning to escape, but lurking in the shadows was death, watching, and waiting.  The giant of a man was unaware, and as Storm launched himself from hiding with weapons drawn he only narrowly avoided being brought down.  

Stepping to the side mere seconds before impact, only just seeing movement from the corner of his eye, he avoided death, but the cloaked figure didn't miss entirely as he cut cleanly down the bandit's arm opening a river of blood.  He wailed in pain, but his furry kept him focused.  Quickly he brandished his sword and swung in a large swoop intending to decapitate his assailant with one mighty swing.
----

Being hurled into the air sufficed to break Hagop's delicate concentration, and his illusions began to crumble around him.  The lich was consumed by its own cloak before it vanished completely, but more importantly Hagop's precious invisibility was gone leaving him exposed as he plummeted to the hard, and now fog free floor below.  With an audible thud and subsequent gasping as the air was forced out of his body, the demon was left vulnerable.  More so as the collar came to life and the uncomfortable heat became a searing pain that ran through every nerve in his body.  He clawed at the magic collar desperate to be rid of it, but was helpless to set himself free.  He lacked the skill, and now; death was looming only feet away, its blood coated sword shimmering in the light.

[Anonymous]

...It was defeated already? A mere gust of wind brought the demonic figure crumbling into itself? That was certainly unexpected, and not quite the test of valor he was looking for. But it soon began to make sense as the fog slipped away, and from underneath it all lay what appeared to be a very small human. Too small to be a human though. Ah...he had heard of similar creatures. What were they called? Imps? That sounded right, and as he brandished his longsword once more he approached the small creature. It must have cast an illusion, and was the puppet-master he surely expected earlier. Although not quite in the same regard as he first thought. He now stood over the small man and crouched down to get a better look, for he had just briefly sensed radiating magic coming from the creature. Which was to be expected, consider his species. But it had felt abnormal to Loegaire, and he now knew why. While he did sense magic from this creature, it was not the magic that sparked his interest, it resided within the collar that braced it's neck and throat. How odd.

Withdrawing the dagger from his waist he brought the blade down near the Imp's throat, albeit so the dull side was actually facing the throat. He had no intention to kill this creature, it did not actually do any thing to warrant death. But he would certainly take this strange collar as a trophy. With the blade he swiftly cut through it, away from the Imp, and took one of the loose ends and pulled it away. Loegaire could have just unbuckled it, sure. But what if it empowered this Imp? Then at least this way the Imp would be weakened.

"A trophy, if you don't mind?"

He wasn't really asking whether or not the Imp minded as he proceeded to place the buckle in a small pouch, but one may as well be polite to their enemies as well their allies. Since one's relationship with another could often change what categorized them to the individual. Ally or enemy? Standing up he backed away a foot or two, and grabbed his longsword once more, that he had stuck into the ground before kneeling down. Simultaneously re-sheathing his dagger.

"I was not expecting an Imp to be amongst my enemies. Especially one that wielded illusions."

[Anonymous]

A number of soldiers marched swiftly towards the battlefield shoulder to shoulder each shielding another with a pikes protruding from the line they formed about 5 feet before them. They were not all fully armored nor were they in matching uniform, but they marched with identical strides and they exuded a confidence in each other one might find between siblings making it clear they were experienced comrades. At least for the most part. Among them was one fully armored soldier, who didn't quite fit in with the rest of the group and though his face was mostly guarded by his helmet it was somehow obvious he was younger than most of the group.

"If we don't rush in faster Loegaire and the village people will have already settled the problem," the young soldier said.

"We should only hope so. We're here to provide backup in case Loegaire and the others are in peril. You wouldn't want that, would you?" one of the older soldiers responded.

Napthis, the young pikeman, dropped his shield and charged ahead of the group, frustrated by his comrade's words. Though Naphtis knew he was right, it was not every day that he could put his many years of training to some use. He would not pass up the opportunity to challenge himself in something more than a friendly spar. Knowing that village, the major threats would already have been taken out, but even the weakest bandit would suffice. Once Naphtis had a clear image of the battlefield it was clear his prediction had been correct. The enemy had for the most part been eliminated. At least he had come in time to see Loegaire make quick work of the supernatural monstrosity. He felt as proud as the other villagers likely did, but it irritated that Loegaire defeated it so easily when Naphtis knew he would have hesitated against such a creature.

He charged forward past many of the villagers and even Loegaire to engage some of the fleeing bandits. Naphtis had his mind set on proving his valor was comparable to Loegaire and that he was equally fearless. In his charge he managed to stab one of the escaping bandits deep in the rib and watched as his victim fell to floor once he moved the pike. His satisfaction was visible even with his helmet on. It was fairly foolish to push so far past the frontline alone, but with other the villagers and soldiers close by, Naphtis figured he could afford the risk.

[Anonymous]

As the burning sensation coursed through every nerve in his body Hagop could only just open his eyes as the soldier approached.  He was terrified, it wasn't fair that he had to die in service to those oafs, and it wasn't fair that he was rendered defenseless by the moron of a mage who designed the magic on the collar.  Hagop glued his eyes shut, and held his breath as the cold steel of the dagger touched his neck, at least now the pain would stop.

So it did, but not as Hagop had expected.  The collar, for a brief moment, felt tighter as if someone were pulling on it, then it slid away from his skin, and the pain was gone.  He was sure he was dead, convinced that the relief was the peace of the grave, but as the sounds of battle continued on in the background the imp began to realize he hadn't been killed.  Slowly, but surely, he wrenched open one eye and watched the soldier put the collar away calling it his "trophy".  The other eye opened, and his hands rested on his throat where he felt nothing but bruised flesh.  The imp sat up, and looked about with an astonished expression; was he really free?

All at once he was overwhelmed with happiness and his tears of pain were soon mixed with ones of joy as he jumped to his feat dancing about in circles singing praises to his good fortune in impish, but he had not forgotten his savior.

"Thank you Sir Knight!"

Hagop bowed graciously to the warrior after he was finished with his brief dance, and after he rose up and wiped tears from his eyes he continued.

"They've held me prisoner for so long, making me conjure illusions to aide their conquest.  I would never have helped them willingly!"

The imp was barely able to contain his excitement and was finding it difficult not to simply bounce around while he stood still.

"I owe you a great debt my friend, but how to repay you?"

Hagop finally stopped his shuffling about and thought on the best way to be of service to this man, despite the battle almost being over, and as the wheels in his devious mind turned an idea rose to the forefront of his thoughts.

"Perhaps I can be of some assistance."

The imp began to rub his hands together and sparks leapt from every opening, and with a satisfied grin the imp let loose a small ball of light that danced around the human warrior causing his armor to glisten and shine, his sword became incased in brilliant white fire, and the imp himself hid behind the illusion of a white three legged dog.

"You shall send these bandits back from whence they came with stories normally told by bards.  The gods themselves will have appeared to bless the champion of this city, and your enemies will know a fear sure to keep them at bay for many years to come."

The long haired canine seemed to grin, if such a thing was even possible, and it trotted to the side of his savior.

"My name is Hagop by the way, what is yours?"

[Anonymous]

((Sorry for the delay.  Been spending quality time with my boys.  And it's Winterstorm >:O))

His attack missed.  Well that was quite alright because he still made his enemy bleed.  With Storm, it wasn't a game of kill or be killed; it was a game of endurance.  The bandit leader was wounded and now shed his own blood into the battlefield- a major psychological blow, no doubt.  Storm's attempt to latch himself on to the bandit failed too, but he was quick to react to the new situation and rolled backwards as he hit the ground.  He moved his left blade up and in front of him vertically so that the swing that the Bandit attempted would deflect more upwards on the blade and go over Storm's head as he began to stand up.  Storm wasn't strong enough to completely block the swing, so it would have to do.

Having the bandit's blade above him instead of at his neck allowed Storm to twist his body.  Using the momentum of the twist, Storm slashed high-to-low with his right blade, aiming for the bandit's forearm.  If connected, the bandit would lose his hand and his weapon in a single strike.  Storm knew speed was the key to winning this fight, so he followed up the strike, hit or miss, with a second strike- canting the blade to the right, Storm horizantally slashed from left to right, aimed at the bandit's chest.  If connected, the bandit would have a deep gash running from his right armpit to his left.

Being on the inside of the bandit now, Storm spun his left blade backwards, disengaging the bandits sword for only a second.  In the next moment, it clashed against it again on the other side, putting Storm's blade between himself and the bandit's blade.  It wouldn't stop a full attack, but it was enough to create some time.

[Anonymous]

So he had in fact freed himself a slave? Then that would perhaps explain the magic of the collar, not quite a means to empower the small creature, but to keep it in control. That made sense after all; the ability to delude people into believing something not existent can be rather powerful in the right situation. He himself had believed he would actually be fighting some undead creature. If it weren't for his own magical abilities that inspired his men, they probably would have fled. But now he made an ally of this smoke-and-mirrors conjuring Imp, and his small defense was proving to be quite effective at this point. No causalities so far, this was all in all a successful afternoon.

"Hm."

He glanced slightly as his own apprentice rushed past him and attacked the nearest Bandit he could. Eager, determined, and potentially quite reckless and stupid. Abnormally similar to himself. Loegaire chuckled lightly to himself as the Imp continued to speak, and without realizing it he looked to his sword to find it engulfed in a rather brilliantly white flame. His armor too seemingly taking a bit of a heavenly shine.

Was this too just an illusion? Even if they were they would certainly intimidate the enemy. He glanced to the rather excited Imp as his form then too changed, to an odd white three-legged dog.

He looked down to it as it came to his side, Hagop as it were called, and nodded.

"Loegaire Tir Sarethquen."

He said this as he simultaneously raised his sword of two oncoming Bandits and brought down this sword upon them, both of them clearly intimidated by the appearance of the flames. Cleaving through them both fairly easily, one directly through the face and the other down the chest. Both killed immediately upon the blade striking vital organs. His sword came back down to the opposite side of Hagop, so not to accidentally strike him.

"I'm the Lord of this area."

[Anonymous]

Naphtis looked back to Loegaire as if seeking his approval when he witnessed the brilliant light emanating from his sword. Was this a new ability his instructor had kept hidden to show off in battle? Whatever it was Naphtis could not draw his eyes away from it. He had to at least see what exactly it did. He imagined several magical abilities that might accompany the swords glow and was disappointed to see it did none of them. Loegaire defeated the two bandits standardly with it, but it all did create a rather majestic scene.

Naphtis had forgotten he was still on a battlefield for too long, but fortunately he heard the heavy, untrained footsteps of one of the bandits approaching him. Since Naphtis was turned away he couldn't exactly anticipate the attack to dodge so he simple crouched predicting the scoundrel would try to decapitate him. He was wrong the bandit brought down his sword on Naphtis, but his bending down lessended the impact of the blow and his armor helped as well. Napthis quickly retaliated with jab from his pike to the bandit's gut.

The bandit was pretty much dead, but he wasn't the only one foolish enough (or proud enough depending on perspective) to continue fighting this hopeless battle. Two more charged at Naphtis while his pike was still in the first bandit's gut. He couldn't pull it out quickly enough to counterattack so he parried the first attack with the back end of the pike. He was at a loss as to how he would fend off the second attack and could not help but to suddenly feel nervous. At that moment two of the villagers rushed down the last bandit with their makeshift weapons. This was followed by a hunter's bullet dropping the other bandit leaving Naphtis time to recompose himself. Though he had been right about his comrades having his back, he would probably be a bit more cautious in future battles.

[Anonymous]

With skill unparalleled Loegaire cut short the lives of two bandits that came his way, and Hagop enjoyed the show.  With every bandit that died his desire for vengeance was a bit more sated.  The imp was not satisfied yet, they hadn't been made to fear enough.  The dog trotted over to the bodies of the bandits and blew a drawn out breath over their bodies.  Soon, translucent images of themselves hovered above their bodies.  More bandits were coming this way, and Hagop made them stop in their tracks.

The dog opened its maw and the images changed into glowing spheres that the dog soon devoured.  The bandits watched with disturbed expressions as the souls of their friends were swallowed by the strange three-legged dog, but it didn't stop them for long, and soon they were upon the villagers as well as the soldier with the pike and the demon granted them illusions as well.  With an audible howl the same glimmering spheres that gave Loegaire's armor it's heavenly glow hovered around this new soldier.

"The lord of this land?"

The dog looked to Loegaire and bowed it's head.

"Well then, my lord, thank you again."

----

The bandit could only watch as his assailant moved with speed he could never hope to defend against.  In one fast, fluid motion the man had severed his hand, and before he could so much as recoil from the pain another blade cut open his chest releasing a third tide of blood.  Dizzily the giant stumbled backwards into a tree and slid down it's surface to rest on the ground covered in his own blood.

He lifted his eyes to the man in black and began to shake in rage, it couldn't end like this, not so soon.

"You--"

His voiced shook, he was terrified, but he wouldn't beg, if he was going to die, he would do so with dignity.

"You win.  Just finish it."

[Anonymous]

A smirk spread across Storm's hidden lips as his enemy stumbled back and slumped down against the tree.  The blood upon his right blade contrasted the clean glimmer of the left blade.  That would have to change for sure.  The bandit spoke to him, but Storm didn't listen.  Slowly, he walked to the bandit.  The broken body ready for Storm's wrath.  A hint of mercy would come from Storm this time, and he would end it quickly for the bandit.  Storm thrust his left blade straight into the bandit leader's neck.  The bandit's life would end instantly.  The clean blade now had blood squirting out all over it.

Retracting the blade, Storm shook the excess blood off and sheathed both weapons.  The stain of his enemy's blood would stay there for as long as the blades were his.  Slowly and not caring for the bandits that ran passed him in fear from the battle, Storm sauntered back towards Tohk.  Suddenly, an idea came to him and he stopped in his tracks.  A couple bandits weren't looking where they were going and ran into Storm.  The smaller one was tripped by Storm's boot as Storm put the other in an arm bar take down, sending the bandit into the dirt.  In a swift second, Storm shattered the bones in the bandit's elbow with a swift kick.  He followed through with a stomp into the side of the bandit's face as he screamed in pain for his arm.

The second bandit was just now getting up.  With the first bandit's sword, Storm thrust it straight through the bandit's back.  The kid who had chosen the wrong career path squirmed in agony and yelped in pain as his life was robbed from him.  Having dealt death to three bandits now, Storm worked on his idea as he made his way back to the bandit leader.  His saunter brought him back within minutes.  At the corpse's side, Storm used one of his short swords to decapitate the dead body.  Sheathing the sword, his now empty hand grasped the hair on the head and lifted it's bloody mass as he set forth again back to the village.

A few minutes later, Storm was walking upon is brother.  His hood was still upon his head and the cloth was still wrapped around his face.  His green eyes flaired with an inner fire as he saw his brother strike down his enemies with ease.

"Brother."

The one word would get his brother's attention.  As he said it he lifted the bandit leader's head by the hair.  Many of the bandits stopped if they weren't in an immediate battle and stared at Storm holding their leader's head in a single hand.

[Anonymous]

His eyes fell upon Naphtis as he was taken off guard by another bandit, and he was about to assist him personally when before he knew it the eighteen year old managed to parry the other, and received assistance from the villagers. They were always willing to aid the Sarethquen House, his father had always been a favorite to them, and so far Loegaire was living up to their expectations as a leader. Naturally that could change at any given decision, but so far, they liked him as well the remainder of his House. But besides that point, it appeared the Bandits were being pulled back for some reason, leaving the village less to repel now. Those bandits that did however stay to continue the charge were quickly met with death, either by one of the Sarethquen themselves, or by a Tohk villager. Either way this battle was clearly finished.

He glanced back at the Imp, well...Dog as it were now, and nodded. Waving off the title of Lord though he quickly reinforced his point with words, just to make it clear.

"You've aided my territories, just call me Loegaire, friend."

His eyes raised once more at the approach of his brother Storm, and clenched in his hand was the head of what he assumed to be the Bandit Leader. Or some sort of strong warrior amongst the Bandits, as those remaining abruptly stopped their attacked and stared at Storm. Clearly devastated by the fact he had killed an important man to them. As Storm greeted him he nodded in acknowledgment.

"Who's your friend there, Storm?"

Simultaneously the attacking Bandits began backing away and soon enough left in a full retreat, only a few of them actually getting away as the others were quickly slain by the Tohk villagers and Sarethquen soldiers. All in all this attacked had been successfully repelled, and as far as he could see it was a complete success. While some villagers lay injured, being tended to by healing mages, the rest remained unharmed and alive, raising their weapons and announcing their victory through gleeful war cries. Loegaire smirking at this as he sheathed his sword and soon yelled out for all to hear.

"The village drinks free tonight!"

Responding with more yelling they village retreated back into their homes, to put away their weapons, make sure every thing was fine and soon enough would head out to the nearby Tavern along with their families.

[Anonymous]

After coming so close to taking a serious injury, Naphtis's focus increased immensely as he scanned the village for any other incoming bandits, but the glow emanating from... himself completely negated that. It was then that he bothered to look at who exactly Loegaire was speaking to. Some unnatural doglike creature it seemed. He thought it was possibly the source of the enchantments, which he did not appreciate; Naphtis wasn't a fan of using a power he could not understand (i.e. magic).

"What exactly is-" he began to say to himself before he heard Storm's voice.

Naphtis thought taking the head was unnecessary and a little crude at first, but couldn't help wanting to do the same to show proof of his own victories. Naphtis attempted to answer Loegaire's question before Storm had a chance to.

"No doubt the enemy's strongest or fiercest. Impressive... but not surprising." Naphtis did not really bother to hide the jealousy in his voice. That is to say he was annoyed that Storm had gotten the chance to fight someone formidable. "The better question is, what is or who is that thing?" Naphtis said while gesturing towards the canine-esque creature.

At the announcement of free drinks Napthis immediately removed his helmet with a smile so wide it seemed overgrown even for his tall stature.

[Anonymous]

Victory was theirs, and yet, it seemed unsatisfying.  There were loose ends that needed to be resolved, and as long as the bandit leader that had enslaved him in the first place remained alive there would always be that incomplete feeling.  The imp plotted while the enemy retreated on how he may be able to catch the bandit lord and bring about his demise, but fate would seem content to give Hagop more than just his freedom, but vengence as well.  As storm approached with the ugly head of the imps slaver in hand a grin of satisfaction spread on his canine features.

"Marvelous.  Even that wretch met his end today, and his slayer is a Sarethquen to boot.  I owe your family twice now."

The imp stepped lightly toward Storm to admire his trophy, and gave it one last disdainful look before turning away to the pike wielding soldier.

"I am an Imp, and a decent illusionist."

Hagop shed the skin of the dog which rolled off his body onto the ground and disappeared into a cloud of white fur.  He winked at the soldier before hiding himself once more, this time behind the image of a small child, not changing much other than to hide his tail, ears, and skin, and to doctor his age a bit.

"And being an Imp, I fall into the demonic family, so I'll do you all a favor and disguise myself from your villagers.  I need not sully your good name by having you seen fraternizing with a demon."

[Anonymous]

Storm nodded to his brother in a silent form of affection.  His green eyes then turned to the boy with the pike.  The boy was apart of the Sarethquen family, but not by blood.  It didn't matter really.  Storm was skeptical of anyone who wasn't his brother.  He could hear the jealousy in the boy's voice but paid it no heed.  Silently and without a word, Storm grasped the pike of a nearby soldier and shoved it into the ground so that the blade faced upwards.  Delicately and with grace, he slid the head of the bandit leader down upon it, as a reminder to those that would oppose the Sarethquen House.

Again, without a word, having others speaking for him, Storm walked back into the village.  He made his way to the tavern and entered it, sitting at the bar.  Throwing back his hood, he began to untie the cloth around his face.  After removing it, he placed it on the bar in front of him.  The bartender instantly brought out his finest ale and set it down in front of Storm.  Three things he loved in this world- his brother, the wilds, and drinking.