Bandits and Blood. (open)

[Anonymous]

The moon slid easily through the night sky brushing her distened belly across the very tops of the massive evergreen trees lining the middle area of the Terrin Mountains. Through this strange misty environ walked a massive knight clad in battle scarred steel armor with the hilt of a mighty blade perched over his right shoulder.

Jon looked about himself cautiously, the Bandit Woods were well named and many a poor desperate soul made their living in the dense forests. Those Jon could understand, times were against the poor and there was little opportunity to rise above poverty honorably.

However the second grouping of men populating the Bandit Woods Jon had no pity for. Honorless brigands who had no honor and wasted their lives murdering the innocents for coin and pleasure. These men Jon would, and had in the past, killed mercilessly both in his time in the Army and even as a mercenary for various villages.

It was these brigands the armored mercenary kept his one good eye out for. His presence as a competant warrior would keep the fearful villagers at bay but the true criminals would find false courage in their numbers and see him as a single half blind man with a sword so heavy there was no chance he could wield it well enough to fend off a band of determined brigands.

As if to fill him with the satisfaction of his caution being right a rough voice slid through the calm night air. "Noice night fer a walk eh?" Several figures slid into sight appearing as though spectres or spirits of the earth.

"It was nicer a minute ago." Jon replied eyeing the speaker in distaste, from his disheveled appearance and sneering confidance the armored mercenary took him for the leader.

"Ach, y'breakin' me heart here mate." The brigand said giving a massive grin showing stained teeth. A dirk appeared in either hand as if by magic offsetting the near comical standoff between the brigands and the massive knight.

"You sure you want to go this route?" Jon asked leaving his massive blade in place on his back. "It'd be a shame to sully my blade with your low blood." The knight said looking the brigand over disgust obvious on his face. Just as the brigand's face twisted with outrage a musket ball smashed into Jon's left shoulder forcing him to stumble forward. Only the overlap of his shoulder and back armor saved him from a mighty wound. Even as he worked to regain his balance the knight could feel a bruise already forming.

From all sides more bandits faded into view holding flintlock pistols and rifles or brandishing poorly crafted blades menacingly.

Standing once more Jon unhooked Requiem easily bringing the blade forward single handedly. The entire span of the massive blade glistened unnaturally in the moonlight casting the first tingle of doubt through the cocky bandit leader. He had no time for any more thought as his body was crushed beneath the weight of Requiem even as the blade's keen edge sliced through muscle and bone rending him in half.

From that initial lunge it was simplicity itself to twist around and bring the blade up through another man and with two steps the mighty weapon snipped a third's head clean off with a single swipe. As quickly as the carnage had begun it ended and the weapon came to rest point down beside Jon rivulets of blood flowing smoothly down its length. Before Jon could even threaten them the remaining bandits vanished back into the forest leaving the bodies of their comrades where they lay.

The Knight Errant watched them leave unsurprised at their cowardess then turned his gaze to the bodies. Though the men were crudely dressed and most of their bladed weapons were unrefined the leader's dirks were quality workmanship and one had a flintlock shoved in his belt that must have come from some young dandy. Disgusted with himself Jon knelt down beside the bodies and began rifling through their clothing pulling out anything of value, suprisingly this included a number of coins, mostly silver and copper but with some gold thrown in and even a few well cut gemstones to go with the weapons and blades.

[Anonymous]

The moon's yellow-silver grace, ample and pleasant - symbolic for so many things, other than meaning so casually 'the night'. Nouvel wondered if the moon really did look as happy as she thought it did. It could be her skewered imagination or something like it; she could never be sure. The various companions she had had over the years had told it a diversity of things - one had even said it was the most depressing thing she had ever seen, and that it looked so terrifyingly sad. Nouvel truly hadn't been able to see her take of this view, and often questioned the woman's opinion, unable to grasp the concept of an 'unhappy moon'. But, then again, it wasn't really living, so the argument in itself was worhtless...

A bunch of small, trivial arguments seemed to be the most fun, though. They were the ones you remembered, weren't they? They were often the catalysts to larger-scale things. Misunderstandings, mole holes to mountains... that's how it was, wasn't it?

Actually, she had arrived, stumbling across some poverty-stricken bandits, and after some quarreling - over the ownership of her money - she wound up coming to a compromise. She could stay, wouldn't burden or harm them, as long as she had a place to sleep, and then she'd lend them her talents as an unorthodox exorcist. As long as they agreed that they'd keep their grubby little hands to themselves. Usually, she asked for money. Even though she wasn't always this generous in her services, she decided that her money was safer this way. And thus, she was safer.

From some of the bandits she had heard stories of other bandits - that was around the time she began to space off, whole-heartedly not interested in more of their kind. However, when she was leaving, she asked about them and they told her they weren't allied with them and she should watch her back. Of course, one did add, in dark humor (she hoped) they couldn't pinch her purse after she was dead.

And that summed up her day - which consisted of sleeping and the expelling of some sicknesses some various members had caught. And although she exorcised demons - usually not by prayer since she was pretty much agnostic, although she never said so - she also removed diseases and had the ability to extract spirits of people.

Concealed by shadow, after witnessing the surrounding of the armored man, toying with her own goodwill and wondering if she had reached her limit yet. She wouldn't tell anyone she was a saint or the best person - she fell well below the standards of a model citizen. But that never really concerned her. As selfish as it was, as long as she was happy, that's all she ever considered. So, when he had slaughtered his opponents and the sliver of the others' will to fight him, she was considerably intrigued.

Maybe, if he wasn't busy, she could ask him of a favor?

Nouvel stepped away from the tree, arms crossed over her chest, her arms wrapped up with cloth, a loop encircling her index finger. She tilted her head, shaking it slightly to discourage her bangs from her eyes.

"Oye, sir. That was pretty impressive. Where are you headed? Busy?" She asked, somewhat belatedly realizing she was probably rather suspicious, and probably looked a little like a gypsy and maybe even like a bandit herself (with better belongings, however) with a rather scummy appearance, she guessed.

Then again, she wasn't good at beating around the bush or even understanding difficult things. Simplicity really was her still, and whenever things got too complex for her to understand or act, that was when she gracefully bowed out and exited the stage. Honestly, if she couldn't meet the standards, she wasn't going to play and act out her own tragedy.

But she could use the protection to get out of these mountains. She had a few tricks up her sleeve and could be rather dangerous when pushed to those extremes... but, well, one she was lazy, and two she wasn't confident in her ability to manage to rescue herself from homicidal, dirty little bandits. Especially when her arms hurt so goddamn much. But the bonus for him would be the fact that he'd earn some cash, so it really did work out.

(i've been wanting to post this character for so long. thank you, thank you, thank you. -pathetic-)

[Anonymous]

"Oi Sir, that was very impressive. Where're you heading?"

The voice, and female behind it seemed to have come from no where though in the space it took her to finish her sentance Jon was on his feet and he had his blade leveled at her form. "Who are you?" He asked roughly. Judging from her looks the female was another of the bandits too foolish to run like the others, what ability could she have that would enable her to defeat him? It was caution of that sort that had kept Jon alive and free in the strange and disturbing times. Who knew who was a demon or vampire?

So he kept his blade level with her neck and waited impatiently for an answer.

[Anonymous]

The reaction was akin to what she expected - but that didn't stop her from sliding her hand up to protect her neck, the back of her hand against it, her fingers curled down. Someone who didn't know her would think it was a ridiculous move. But she knew herself well enough to know that the movement would protect her - she just had to count herself faster than his blade, and transform her arms part way.

"I'm Nouvel Osanne. Not a bandit. I'm an exorcist," Nouvel told him in her serious tone, an eyebrow raising over a red-amber eye.

"If I was one of them, I would've run. Or tried to kill you when you were busy," Nouvel told him, honestly. She often oppurtunist killings, rather waiting her turn. The success was higher that way - and often, she was wounded. But things happen, and it didn't always go the way she hoped.

Nouvel stayed alert, not willing to take the chance of her attention slipping, her hand still in the place it was by her neck - it would be until he lowered his blade. This would be a bad time for the bandits too come back with reinforcements, but she decided she wasn't going to worry about things that had a 'what if' factor. But this was mildly annoying.

[Anonymous]

Jon's eye narrowed, an exorcist? As poorly dressed as this girl was? He found it highly suspicious as usually exorcists were in high demand, but perhaps she was not very good at her job? Either way the girl had a point, she could have killed him at any time while he rifled through the dead bandits' pockets and the way she had revealed herself so openly smacked of either innosence or stupidity...

"An exorcist." Jon mumbled to himself, finally his internal debate swung in her favor and he lowered the massive blade. "Fine, I'm heading for Arca." He said answering her question at last. "And what is an exorcist doing wandering the Bandit Woods at night? I doubt a single lass like yourself is enough to exorcise the ghosts and demons of this place..."

[Anonymous]

Nouvel didn't really care or mind what he thought of her - she had her reasons, and that was all she ever considered. Selfishness or self-preservation? Well, she was never quite sure on which one it was. Maybe the two traits walked hand in hand? All she knew was that she didn't necessarily risk her neck for strangers, but she did do some things - mostly. She'd help if she could, but other times her assistance would be nothing but a bother, so why even try? Oh well.

"What happened was that I stumbled across the other bandits, made a compromise to exorcize their people as long as they wouldn't steal from me. So I slept the entire day, exorcized them, and then decided to get moving," she said, raising a shoulder as her hands and arms relaxed, crossing her chest.

"Arca?" She said, it only now occuring to her that he was going to the very place she was. She had to meet with someone there - and refresh herself and then get back too work.

"I'll pay you if you help me get to Arca," she told him, feeling the hefty weight of her purse tucked in the folds of her clothing.

Nouvel happened to be quite cheap, and often wore clothes that were threadbare and worn. She could almost always afford something good, but she had a habit of over-spending when she actually got the chance to spend some money. So she kept herself on a short leash and made sure she had enough money to cover everything she wanted at the time.

"Who are you?" She asked him, raising a brow curiously.

[Anonymous]

Jon's expression soured slightly, paid to guard a foolhardy exorcist? What sort of job was that for a warrior of his renown? Nipping on the heels of that thought was that while he was a noble in name he had no province nor even the honor of a Knight left to him. Besides, he'd done worse things when times had been lean and his purse empty.

"Jon Corsval." He said answering her second question first. "Since we're going in the same direction I can oblige you, but my services do not come cheap."

[Anonymous]

"Sounds fine to me, Mr. Corsval," Nouvel said to him, her shoulders relaxing slightly - now, maybe, she wouldn't have to work so hard.

She was slightly fatigued from the exorcisms that had taken place awhile ago - they always did, and caused her arms to hurt. Not that she was complaining - those were small prices to pay for it to usually swell her purse, or keep it safe. After all, how could she really complain with the gain was much more than the lost?

And even now, her gain was quickly making up for the mishap of having to worry about other thieves. Who the hell would've guessed she'd come across a warrior? Actually, that was rather ironic. It was almost a shame she didn't believe in fate or destiny, or even god for that matter. But, sometimes, there were those people who pissed you off simply because they lacked intelligence but luck was somehow always with them - they could be walking in a street and find a wallet full of money.

And who'd return a wallet full of money?

Well, at least not Nouvel. Finders keepers, losers weepers.

Brushing off her arm wrappings she eyed, lifting an eyebrow slightly. "Lead the way, hm?"

[Anonymous]

"Not just yet." Jon said slowly, "We'll be discussing the price before this goes any farther..." He said turning his gaze towards the bandit bodies and the loot he'd already pulled from their pockets. "And I need to finish up with these dogs."

[Anonymous]

FInish up with them? They were dead, how more 'finished up' could they possibly be? Nouvel rubbed her temples, her impatience and urgency to get to Arca. She brushed some stringy black hair from her face, feeling more needy for a bathe then ever. To get a proper bath (she wasn't going to bathe in one of these streams with all those bandits around) she'd have to go to Arca. And, again, everything lead back to her original purpose.

"What do you mean finish up with them?" She asked after taking a deep breath to ease the strain from her voice. It was her choice to ask to hire him and she'd have to take all the accompanying annoyances as well.

"Price? Couldn't we do that at Arca? Just set your price now, and then when we get to Arca, tack on the troubles that had happened during the journey, and then we can disagree or agree," Nouvel said, slightly frustrated.

Details were such a pain. It was obvious that she disliked them - they could be solved at a later date, or made up along the way. But everyone liked everything set in stone, or a rough draft where all she wanted was the outline of the terms and the freedom between the guidelines. That's all - and she already knew she was late on her way to Arca, and she already knew she'd get an ear-full of complaints by the person she was supposed to meet. After all, that was just how it was.

[Anonymous]

Jon reined in his own irritation kneeling down once more and stuffing the loot he'd already aquired from the corpses in a small leather satchel. For several minutes there was silence as he worked and pondered the strange woman's obvious displeasure at having to work out such minor details now. Who didn't like to square away an arrangement before agreeing to it?

"My price is eighty gold straight, I'll take fourty now and fourty when we reach Arca." He said slinging the now full sack up over his shoulder. "No negotiations."

[Anonymous]

"A-oh-kay," she said childishly, shifting around her clothing and over shirt, searching in the folds for the hefty weight of her purse. She had been accumulating it over the course of her rather long (and boring) journey, and it had grown quite well. An economical ecosystem.

She slide her hand into it, counting carefully out the forty gold pieces required. She was a fairly quick counter and was quickly done, pulling the drawing string and tying it tightly and back into her clothing. She was very careful about thieves - the purse was tied to her and hide under her layers of clothing. She'd notice if it's weight even shifted. Concerning her money, she had reflexes like a cat.

"Mr. Corsval," she said, walking over to him and stretching out her hand, the money cupped. This was what she hated, however. She didn't like money transactions in the middle of a forest in bandit-territory. She was very protective (perhaps overly so) out of money she had worked for herself.

Nouvel didn't want some dirty, loathesome little git robbing her - she wouldn't ask and kill him outright. It's HER money, therefore it was HER'S. Until, of course, she was conducting business. But still, the fact that her nerves were mildly frayed made her somewhat edgy to the fact some bandits might come traipsing out, hence why her fingers were curling the pieces away from view and her other arm was readied unconsciously.

[Anonymous]

Jon smirked as though he knew what she was thinking. "Have no fears lady, your money is safer now than it has ever been before." He assured her as the coins fell into his large gauntleted hand. To some it would almost seem taunting the way he slowly slipped them into his own money pouch but for the cautious mercenary it was simply his weighing it expertly before accepting the sum. "We've entered into a contract lady and I promise on my honor and life that you'll reach Serendipity alive and well." He said pulling Requiem from the earth with a single swift jerk. As if it knew something of what had occured the massive blade glittered hungrily in the moonlight as though thirsting for more blood as a single mighty snap of his wrist sent the blood that was on the blade whisking off into the grass leaving it suprisingly clean.

"Let us be on our way, though I beat them soundly such lowlifes are rarely detered for long and it is unbecoming to stain my blade with their common blood." The Knight said hooking Requiem in place on his back.

[Anonymous]

"Is that what you call everyone who doesn't match your standards of living? Lowlives?" She asked curiously, ignoring his statement that she was safer then ever. She was glad she was her money's worth.

"I don't think they're that much different from you or I. I needed to pay you a price to help me - they're helping themselves. Survival of the fittest, is it not? And it's always easier when you have the money," Nouvel said, she herself not of the highest honor, but it was hard to believe that anyone held any real honor these days.

No. Nouvel just didn't believe in honor at all. She believed in self-perservation. She believed in money and how it could ensure her survival. She believed in nothing more than that - the simplicities and her own power to get her where she needed to be, with the money she needed. Honestly, that's all she could believe. No one helped another without money, and if they did, they expected it or some form of payment. Words of gratitude rarely got anywhere. Then again, it was because words of gratitude could help a person survive the harsh winters.

Only strength and money.

"Only idiots come into a forest, expecting the best," she said flatly. "It's their fault that they get stolen from and can't protect themselves or their money," she concluded.

[Anonymous]

Jon rumbled in annoyance at his new charge's assessment of the world. "There is honor in this land though few have the courage to believe in it." He responded knowing how far he'd sunk from what he had once been. An honored Knight revered on the battlefield for his ungodly skill and enviable ferocity and off for his gentlemanly conduct and sheer unrelenting honor.

"As for the scum inhabiting this forest, well...they are nothing. No better than the sticks and stones we tread over." He said gesturing to the rubble at their feet. "No honor, no livelihood, they're nothing but mindless dogs."

[Anonymous]

"How are they supposed to be honorable when they have little? You think too highly of honor. For me, surviving is enough. That's all people can do, survive. That does not make them less. It doesn't make them any more expendable then you," she said, stretching her arms, turning her wrist and feeling her forearms, rubbing the muscle.

"By the way, dogs arn't mindless. And I'm sure they arn't either," she added, raising her eyebrows at her self. She sounded fair, but she knew she wasn't, really.

She didn't expect to sound as if she was. She didn't really like people who tried to steal from her - or people who tried to kill her. Then again, not many did. She didn't have... honor, or much respect for people who expected it. People who expected it, were, in her opinion, stupid. If they deserved it, however, was something very different. Honor was just a very fickle idea to her... hell, she could hardly understand the idea of it.

People got stuck into mindsets in different ways - and living all the way out here could put them in a barbaric kind of state. Where they thought stealing and killing was surviving, where thats all there was. Not that it made anything right to take what isn't theirs - but isn't that a form of hunting? In any case, they had the choice of living in a city or town, but they didn't. Possibly, however, it'd be even harder in those conditions for them. Then again, who knew? Not Nouvel. And she really didn't care what they did as long as they didn't bother her.

[Anonymous]

Jon rumbled something non-commital. He hardly had the patience to continue arguing with his client about scum so low they couldn't even be counted as serfs.

And so the two walked in resolute silence through the woods with Jon glancing occationally up at the sky when he could do such to determine his position by the patches of stars he could see through the canopy of tree limbs.

Hours passed painfully by with only the most occational breaks and those only when it seemed Nouvel was in need of them. The Knight seemed to have the endurance and willpower of an automaton, quite incredible when one considered the weight of his armor and sword.

It was during one such rest that Jon noticed an eerie green flame hovering dejectedly over a tree stump a short ways out into the woods. His hand crept towards the hilt of Requiem as his good eye narrowed. "Something unnatural out there." He warned tersely.

The flame, seemingly aware of Jon's sudden attention began to creep closer picking an erratic path through the forest undergrowth moving in sharp jerks and jitters.

[Anonymous]

Nouvel had good enough endurance, surprisingly better then any one normal person. She was pleased with the rate and pace at which they walked, and although she wasn't necessarily used to these kinds of journeys, she kept up well-enough and didn't complain. Afterall, she hired him and she was in a hurry herself to get to her destination. What she wanted was some good old-fashioned cash, which would be produced upon her arrival, and along with a few other benefits.

She watched the green light, her eyes narrowing as her eyebrows knitted. She frowned slightly and studied it closely. However, she decided it all came down to its last move. She readied her arms, both raised protectively across her front, her palms turned outwards to face the threat.

The change started at her shoulders, crawling beneath the ragged wraps around her arms, dancing along flesh, turning it to gray-brown flesh stronger then anyone to know of skin. The familiar pops in her wrists, knuckles, and fingers - the twisting of joints and the arching of fingers, her arms visibly bulkier and thicker then they were before. She was on the verge of completing the change - however, she was still unsure of threat the little glowing flame would produce.

"Wonder what it is," she murmured, mainly to herself, stifling a yawn.

[Anonymous]

Jon unhooked Requiem with an easy motion bringing the sword up to his shoulder resting it on his shoulder paltron. "I don't know lady, but whatever it is I doubt it will be friendly."

Indeed the flame wavered for a moment then split in two and both flames distorted and twisted growing larger and gaining a vaguely humanoid face. A strange crackling cackle rose up from the creatures as they stared at the two travelers. It seemed the flame had been some sort of elemental, perhaps crafted by a mage long ago and left to its own devices after the mage died. Whatever the case the flame seemed very interested in quenching life. If Jon knew more of magic he might have postulated that the life force of humans and creatures was how the elemental had retianed its shape and intelligence after its creator had died. Whatever the case, his finely tuned instincts warned that the flame creatures were hostile.

Glancing to his patron Jon couldn't help but notice the change rippling down her arms. "Be prepared lady, I am quite profficient against living foes, but I've had little experience fighting against magic flames." He warned though his easy stance betrayed such words, it was clear the Knight Errant was confidant enough in his own skills to think that steel and will could overcome a magical eternal flame.

[Anonymous]

It was violent and painful - and pleasurable; the intermingling of two bordering feelings. The rash of harsh, russet flesh rippled over her hands as they enlarged beyond the nromal proportions, her fingers elongating as the joints popped and the claws formed dangerous points. Unfortantly, the feelings of the change dissipated, replaced with a dull sense of her hands and arms - it felt as if the nerves were deadened, and they were. In this form, she lost much feeling in her arms and hands, which allowed great use from them, but the results were often hazardous.

"It must need energy, seeing as it isn't normal. And if it doesn't, well, seems I'm quite useless," she said, a slight dullness tinting the tail of her statement.

"Come here," she told the flame, her stance loosening as she walked towards it, her arms dropping towards her sides, however, her hands were tilted forwards, towards the creature, a slit in each wrist opening as fleshy green tubing peeked from the slit and slid outwards, nearly appearing as two vines.

However, the pain would come tenfold after this. Her arms had hardly time enough to relax! How troublesome, life was. Perhaps the creatures energy could, in turn, benefit her.