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[Altario Shialt-eck-Gorrin]

Ilmastas' Home

Ilmastas reached his house, through the winding streets of Remusiat, just as the sun's last rays were slipping beyond the void.  He reached for the door, paused as a grin came over his weathered face, then threw open the door.  "I am home!" he shouted. 

Two children, who were engrossed in an awl game while laying on the floor, looked up in surprise and excitement.  "Daddy!"  They shouted together, scrambling to their feet and hurrying over to where their father scooped them up in his arms, the bag of cakes in his hand falling to the floor.  They covered his face in kisses.

Ilmastas laughed heartilly.  "Easy on my old bones!"  he jokingly chastised them.  When he was done, he smiled warmly at them.  "Eyshrah, take the cakes to your mother.  We can have them with dinner.  Hykel, clean up your game.  Maybe after dinner we can all play."

The children obeyed immediately.  The girl, Eyshrah, beamed warmly.  "Mother is making pinnip stew."

Ilmastas winked at her.  "I can smell.  It makes my tummy growl like a bear.  Rawr!"  He reached out and tickled her, making her scream in delight and run from him.  He laughed again, and followed the girl to the other room, where he looked upon his wife as she leaned over a pot on the hearth.  He gave her bottom a slap.  "And how is my lovely wife, this night?"

The woman stood and gave her husband a disproving look, though filled with love. "Busy with supper, so be keepin your hands to yourself.  And you better be hungry.  I hope you were not eating the cakes at work again."

"Nary a one, woman.  Nary a one!"  

[Drexal ben Putin]

Ilmastas' Home

Drex worked his way up and down several streets, them all looking the same to his foreign eyes.  The sun was nearly set now, and it would soon start to get dark.  He was getting desperate.  He needed to find a place.  As he searched, he found himself on a street that was quieter than most he had been on.  In fact, there was only one other person on the street.  A middle aged man carrying a small sack.  Drexal watched him with interest, as he approached.  He was elated when the man stopped before a modest looking house and disappeared inside.  He had found his shelter.

Looking up and down the street once more, he saw that he was alone, so he hurried toward the door of the home the man had just entered.  He pulled out his dagger, and took a deep breath.  How had life taken him here?  By the gods, he did not know.  He barely even recognized himself now. 

Then, with a final deep breath for courage, he pushed open the door and rushed inside.  The warmth of the room hit him hard, and felt strangely oppressive; not at all welcoming as he had hoped it would.  But, would anything ever feel right again?  His eyes darted about quickly, as he slammed the door shut behind him.  The outer room he now found himself standing in was barren, except for a boy, in his early teens by the look of him, laying on the floor, rolling up a piece of leather.

He could hear voices coming from the next room.  It sounded like a woman's voice, along with the voice he assumed to be the man's he followed in here.  He had to act fast.  The man had not appeared to look dangerous, but dammit if nearly all these Remusian's weren't war mongers in some way or another.  Hopefully, they were still able to place value on family.

With heavy heart, Drex rushed toward the boy, hoping to grab him quickly.  He didn't intend any harm, but he needed insurance against the father's reaction.  Gods forgive him.

[Altario Shialt-eck-Gorrin]

Ilmastas' Home

Ilmastas grinned under the reproachful look of his wife.  She was a hard woman, but almost all of it was an act.  He knew her better than that, and knew that she just had trouble showing her softer side.  Typically Remusian.  He was about to tease her further when he heard the unnatural sound of a curtailed yell come from the next room.  It made his blood run cold.  Something had happened to Hykel.

He hurried into the next room to see his son being held off the ground by a barbarian with a knife to the child.  Ilmastas froze in place, not daring to move, lest it be misinterpreted and the barbarian hurt the child.  He reached out his hands, "Don't... don't hurt him!  Whatever you want, you can have.  I've only got a few coins.  I'm only a vendor of spice cakes.  I'm not a rich man."  He felt his throat go dry, making it difficult to talk.

His wife came around the corner, and a scream escaped her lips.  Ilmastas reached out and grabbed her arm, pulling her closer to him.  "Hush, woman!  Don't call out," he warned her, not knowing yet just how dangerous this man was.   But, whatever the barbarian wanted, he would get.  The only thing that was important was his family.

[Khel]

Jami -- Harbour Guard

Jami wandered the Remusian streets in the western corridor. The couple indicated the man had gone south, but how could they be sure he hadn't circled about? It had gotten dark, but the lights in shops and various homes, as well as the light along the big outer wall kept the streets he wandered bright enough to keep track of where he was. He prowled the streets eagerly, but his excitement was waning. He had to find something or wait until daylight again! All the while that disgusting woman was free, possibly already coupled with the big man mentioned. If he was indeed a warrior, the guard knew he could fight him. He was a Remusian man, for the gods' sake, he could fight better than most men in the world!

Quickening his pace, Jami gripped his spear tight and raised his shield in anticipation. A few people here and there brushed quickly past him, but none looked suspicious or fit the description those people had given. Narrowing his eyes as he rounded a corner, the guard stopped. What if they had fooled him? Plenty could keep a smooth voice and perform an act of treachery right under his nose. Sighing heavily the guard looked around, seemingly lost in his own home, but only lost in his thoughts. This was hopeless--there were too many places to run and hide. Too many chances that he had already fled the city with that mage woman. Then, he heard it.

A shrill scream came from a nearby home. Turning his head sharply, the guard listened, but the noise was abruptly cut off. Even if this wasn't the man he sought, it was something and someone needed help! Duty be damned, he'd make sure citizens of Remusiat, whether in the harbour or not, were safe. Running towards the noise, he tried to decipher which of the houses it was. All doors were closed, and many houses lined the narrow street. Straining his ears for any sound at all, Jami could hardly hear past his accelerating heartbeat. Shaking his head and squeezing his eyes shut for a moment, he pressed his ear up to the door immediately before him. He heard a whisper, the shuffling of feet, and silence. This had to be it.

Taking a deep breath, he raised a big fist to pound on the door. Halting the movement, however, Jami clenched his hand around his spear and leaned his shield against the outer wall of the home. He would wait. If it was an intruder with dangerous intentions he would wait for a sign he could enter without startling the criminal and making matters worse. He may not be the brightest man, but he wasn't stupid. Patience.

[Drexal ben Putin]

Drexal felt his breath coming fast and furious.  The boy struggled in his grasp, and it was becoming hard to hold the lad without hurting him.  Suddenly, the family came rushing in from the other room.  Drexal held the boy firmly, dagger held in his free hand, though he kept it from the boy.  He wanted to look fierce, but did not wish any harm to come to the child.

He listened to the father's impassioned plea, and he shook his head.  "I don't want coin.  I only," he swallowed hard, wondering exactly what it was that he did want, "I only want a place to hide for a few hours."  Staring hard at the worried faces, he knew what this had to look like; a mad barbarian with blood lust in his eyes.

He found himself turning red in the face, as shame overcame him.  "I do not wish to harm anyone.  Especially the boy.  Please, I ask you to not scream for help."  He lowered the boy to the floor, though he still held him in place.  "If you stay quiet, I'll release the boy."

He could only hope that the family were as honorable as they were kindly looking.  Once he let the boy go, he would have no way to force them to bend to his will.  He was taking a chance, but he was not a killer.  All he wanted was time to think, but how could he tell them that?  How could he explain what had happened this night?

[Altario Shialt-eck-Gorrin]

Ilmastas sat on the floor, his back against the wall of his home.  It was not an entirely comfortable position, but he dared not move.  Next to him, sat his wife, also ith her back against the wall, though she was asleep.  Across her lap lay the two small heads of his children, as they too slept, huddled close to the safety of their mother.

Across from him, sat the warrior, in the same pose that the family sat in.  Ilmastas watched him closely.  The barbarian, for he had not given his name, in fact, had not said much, was beginning to doze off.  At first, his head would bob ever so slightly, waking the big man up, then he would slowly begin to slip into a waking sleep again.  Each time he started to drift off, it was a little deeper than the time before.  This filled Ilmastas with hope.  All he needed was a little more time.

The barbarians head dipped again, and this time, it did not come up.  It was time. Ilmastas reached out to his side, grabbing the wrist of the boy.  He squeezed it and shook it slightly, and the sleeping child began to stir.  "Stay quiet, Hykel."  he whispered, coarsly.  "Wake your sister."

As Ilmastas watched the barbarian sleep, the boy woke his sister, and the mother too began to rouse.  They would need to hurry, but silence was paramount.  He climbed to his feet slowly, grimacing each time the feintest sound was made.  He then helped each of the children rise.  They might just get away with this.

[Drexal ben Putin]

Tired.  So very, very tired.

Drexal ben Putin could barely keep his eyes open, as he watched the family sleep.  How he had gotten to this point, he did not know.  Last night was only a blur to him now, a nightmare that had faded somewhat, but still pressed itself against his consciousness.  There was a girl.  He had gotten angry.  Was she dead?  Had he become a murderer?

And now, here he was, holding a family hostage.  He had no intention of holding them, he only needed a place to hide.  He was bringing shame upon his family.  If only he could go home.  Leave this miserable ice covered land.  See Rohanna once more.  He could imagine her pretty smile, running across the field toward him as he arrived at his home.  Her arms would be thrown around his neck, her body pressing tightly against him.  Her lips, as soft and warm and inviting as they ever were, would come together with his, tears of joy from her luminous eyes streaming down her cheeks, wetting both their faces as she melded with him.  He could hear her melodious voice whispering "I love you.  Welcome home."

But, no.  That would not be how it would be.  She was now the ewyn of another man.  She had turned from him, from the anger that burned within him.  The anger that he could barely control.  The anger that had brought him here.

A faint noise alerted Drex to the fact that he had drifted off into a light slumber.  In that moment between wakefulness and sleep, he forced his eyes to open, and saw that the family had moved.  The children were closest to the door, while the father was helping the mother to her feet.  He had to stop them.  He couldn't yet afford to be caught.

"Stop!" he barked, climbing to his feet.  When he rose to his full height, he raised his sword ominously.  He wasn't going to use it, but he had to appear scary enough to keep them under control.  It was the only leverage he had.

What happened next, however, was something he had not expected.  Instead of the family cowering and going back to their spot on the floor, the mother hurled herself at him, crashing into him and sending him slamming into the wall.  He was barely able to distinguish her calls to the children to "Run!" from her screeches of anger at him.  Her fists beat against him, her fingers scratching at his eyes.  Though he did not wish to hurt her, he had no choice but to throw her heavily against the wall, where she hit with an audible thud, and slowly sank to the floor, finally quiet.

Turning his head toward the children, he could only glimpse them as they disappeared through the doorway, their cries for help and fear for their mother echoing in the small home.  He had to stop them.  He then moved quickly to the door, and out into the crisp morning air.  The brightness of the morning blinded him for a moment, but he dared not stop.  He had to catch those children.  After that, he had no time to think about the consequences.

[Sháilihà Már'soráis]

Shailiha had arrived in the city of Remusiat just as the sun was beginning to announce the coming of a new day. The place seemed to come to life in the bright rising sun, even while the occupants lay in the comfort of their warm beds. In the cool morning air, her breath created random designs depending on the amount of force which she pushed the air from her lungs. It became a bit of a game for her as she traveled alone in the North, seeing what she could recognizably create from the exhaled mist, with or without the aid of magic. Nera would join the fun on occasion, making her own little puffs as the two companions conversed with one another on their journeys. A black paw would swat at the visible breaths, every now and again, attempting to catch it as if it were prey. Shailiha's lips have been snagged by the cat's sharp claws on more than one instance as a result.

Grey orbs surveyed the city about her from the shadows of her cowl. The cold air had encouraged her to pull the edges of her cloak tighter about her slender figure for protection, enveloping her in a shroud of mist. Nera had curled up inside Shailiha's pack for warmth and blockage from the cold. Her purr could be heard faintly, as well as felt, through the tough leather. As she walked further into the city, she reached a point at which her ears picked up the distant sound of shouting, but was unable to hear any specific words being said. With how quiet her trek had bee thus far, her curiosity was mildly peeked by this inconsistency.

“Well Nera, it seems we have come to this place at an interesting time.” Shailiha's voice was soft, but the feline had heard and responded by shifting in the pack it was sleeping in. “Shall we investigate further, my friend?”

This time, Nera decided to poke her head out into the open and meow in reply to her mistress' inquiry. A small pallid hand rose to scratch the nor'sidian ears, which perked at hearing voices down the street. “I will take that as an approval to go ahead then, seeing as you are as interested as I am.” The elfess chuckled a bit to herself.

Since they were in no particular hurry, Shailiha took a slow place towards the shouting while trying to imagine what could be going on. Every so often, the visitors would pass pairs of well armed guards who seemed to be searching for something or someone, but they were spread out. The guards would seem to cast a suspicious eye on the elfess now and again, but she understood how she could seem to be placed in such a position. She wasn't exactly blending in, but the guards didn't pay her any real heed, so she ignored them for the most part. Yet, the guards  and their glances made her nervous. She did her best to avoid any eye contact with any persons, staring at the ground and using her other senses to keep her alert. Even Nera had tucked herself back down in the leather pack. It gave Shailiha an uneasy feeling in her stomach and second thoughts of pursuing the situation.

“Perhaps investigating was not such a good idea, my Pretty.” Shailiha whispered after looking up momentarily to find another guard staring at her. “I don't like the look of some of them.” A quiet muffled squeak was all Nera had to say, but the elfess did not turn around and just returned to staring at the ground as she walked.

Suddenly,she felt something or someone knock into her, catching her off balance and send her tumbling to the ground. Hands reached out frantically for something to keep her from falling or to break her fall, but to no avail. Her hood flew off and long platinum tresses spilled out from beneath the cloak. Poor Nera was still in the bag when her mistress was pushed over, landing with a hard thud. The cat shrieked and leapt from the bag once the two had landed on the ground painfully, running a short distance until she felt it was safe to go and see if her mistress was alright. Shailiha was frightened that one of the guards had pushed her over, so she snatched her rod and held it above her face in a defensive position. It was then she noticed two young children standing by her with panic etched on their features. The girl stood behind the young boy, peering over her shoulder with worry while the boy offered an apologetic hand to the elven mage.

“I'm so sorry, Miss. I do hope you are not hurt.” His voice was anxious, yet sincere.

Shailiha shook her head as she was helped to her feet, “Are you two alright? What are you running from so quickly and blindly?”

Nera wandered back and wove back and forth between the elfess' legs, meowing to be picked up and coddled after the tumble. Shailiha ignored her this time, as there was something obviously more pressing which needed to be addressed.

[Drexal ben Putin]

If he had any sleepiness in him still, it was definitely gone the moment the cold crisp air slapped him across the face as he sprinted out of the stone house, the wison hides serving as a door flapping behind him.  The brightness of the day blinded him at first, but this did not deter him.  He strode on long legs after the children. 

Drexal drew up sharply, when he saw that the children had crashed headlong into a woman, sending her to the ground.  He had to purposely control the urge to go to her aid.  He knew that he would look very intimidating at the moment, sword in hand, his hair unkempt and falling from its ponytail.  She would assume that he was dangerous, that he was out to hurt the children, and her as well.  She would be right to think that, though he had no intention of harming anyone.  But, like most things in his life, his intentions and fate rarely went hand in hand.

He stood there, uncertainty written across his face.  What was he going to do?  He could grab the children, but if he did, he would have to deal with the woman.  Did he really want to involve someone else?  But, if he didn't, there was no use going back inside.  The children, and now this woman, would be sure to get the attention of some guards.

No, he did not fancy himself bouncing at the end of a noose, or whatever type of punishment these people here meted out.  And he needed more time to think.  But there was none.  No time to think, no time to do anything but act.

He strode forward.

[Sháilihà Már'soráis]

After being assured the children were unharmed collision and in no immediate danger, Sháilihà scanned the area with an uneasy gaze from pulling out her rod. Usually, it was a sure sign of what she was, and had gotten her into trouble in the past. She tucked the ornate rod into her belt and quickly covered it with her cloak to keep it from prying eyes. It was then she noticed someone approaching them, and from the looks of him, it wasn't for a social greeting. Silver hues burned with attention and preparation to protect the children which she had just acquainted, though she was uncertain if the man was after them or herself.

"Quickly, children. Get behind me. You too Nera."

Encouraging the children to hide behind her small stature, she made herself as tall as she could too stand face to face with this stranger. Nera read her mistress' countenance, and scurried behind her to hide with the children, yet prepared to strike if the man did anything. Yet, she was still unsure if the man was after her or the children. Once a few moments passed, she questioned the children in hopes of obtaining a clear answer and knowledge in how to approach the situation.

"Do you recognize this man?"

She glanced back at them to note any reactions on their faces or body language. They remained silent, staring at the man by peering around her. She could tell he was obviously familiar to them, but not in a friendly manner.

"Can I help you, Sir?"

[Drexal ben Putin]

His mind was going faster than it ever had before.  So fast, that it was giving him a headache.  Drexal still didn't know how he got into this situation, and even less idea how he was going to get out of it.  Kids!  Those kids!  Why did they have to run?  He wouldn't have hurt them.  Now he had another problem.  This woman.

"They're my children.  I caught them lying, and was going to punish them.  They ran off.  So, if you'd be good enough to stand aside, I'll take them back inside."

Oh, you dumb ox!  Your children?  Like you were old enough to have children that old.  Why can't I think?

His fingers went up to the side of his head, where he pressed against his temples.  He hurt so bad now that the sound of silence was roaring in his ears and hurt him.  It only increased his anxiety, and therefore his temper.  He didn't have time to be standing out here.  He didn't have time to argue with some strange woman.  He didn't have time!  Just no time...

"I said they're my kids!  Get away from them!"  His voice had risen and was now a shrill shout.

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