Are men all the same?

[Ife]

Traveling and traveling
Never owning a home
Always on the run
Trying to escape
From those who hunt
From his own emotions
From his sins

Slowly entering the bar Ife shook off the light amount of water that had accumulated on his cloak with the recent drizzle of rain. He hadn’t expected the clouds to drop their tears on him so he didn’t expect to stop here on his trek towards a city in the mountain not to far from here. Yet, he didn’t want to travel in the rain; it would be his luck that he would become ill and be bedridden for days. As he’d been traveling this was the first place he had come upon that had shelter and a drink to burn some heat into his chest. Looking around the Bar he searched out the owner so he could request a room and a glass of Whiskey. His eyes racking the room he found an older looking man that seemed to be viewing the scene and not participating. Ife guessed he’d be the own, especial seen he stood behind the bar. Keeping his hood onto of his head, he gracefully walked through the crowd of table and laughing men and woman.

Coming close to the bar Ife’s eyes met, for a brief second, a man’s at the bar. He seemed to be strong and in attire appropriate for a solider. Being not to found of soldiers for the purpose that they never brought him good news or a warm welcome; rather a nasty one for when they were in search of the killer of the killer of their woman; he avoided his gaze. On his way from looking past his gaze his eyes met with another person, a woman. Unable to help the demon inside him, his deep hazel eyes sparked with fire and darkness. Yes, she was a looker, but he as quickly as he had let the spark out took it back and looked away.

Finally meeting the bar’s counter, Ife signaled the tender. As he waited for the man to come close he stole a glance at the solider and woman. His eyes settled on the hand print in the counter. At first he was interested but he didn’t let it take his attention for to long. She was with a solider, he didn’t need the trouble. Worse, he didn’t need trouble from her with what ever gift she had used to leave that imprint. The innkeeper before Ife he spoke but without raising his head for him to see under his hood.

“I am in search of a room for the night, and a bottle of whiskey to take with me.”

Placing several gold coins on the table for a room and the bottle Ife waited for his response. Not many innkeepers would turn down the gold pieces before him if he did have the room. The gold pieces Ife had from his parents after they had passed away. Where most would think he had stolen the coin, he hadn’t, instead his rich folks had left it all for him. His folks being rich were known by quite a few and those few that knew them knew of him. Since people knew his family he rarely let people see who was under the hood of his cloak unless it was a night he was in a hunt for the night.

When the keeper turned to retrieve a room key and a bottle he stole another glance at the couple, but let his mind wonder else where. Looking around the room he saw several men joking around with each other as they quickly got drunk, woman with their men, and people he assumed as the regulars sitting enjoying a drink with old friends. The bottle and key placed before him and some of the gold coins taken the keeper started to walk away.

“Sir, please these are for you, take them. I’m in no need of them and I’m sure they could be of use here with your business.”

Unable to help be kind and selfless when he could to make up for his ill deeds, he pushed the other gold coins farther toward the Keeper. Shaking his head to lower his hood his black hair falling out over his tanned face, Ife looked up at the man again. He didn’t see any reason to hide himself from the man since he wasn’t doing anything evil for the night or even indecent. Raising a hand to grab his bottle he looked around once more to survey whether or not to stay down in the bar for a time or to go to his room.

[dragonfire]

A sly smile crossed her face with Vantor's words of a meeting first thing. She was pleased with her powerless comrade of Fire and also with the promise he made to her to meet with Lord Kaji Hito. She was determined for sure to make a decent impression of herself, and her eyes welled with happiness as Van continued his remarks about the upcoming day, but first she needed to make it through the night. Sleep called to her but kept it's distance, It was not coming as quick as she wished and with these things now on her mind it possibly would never arrive. Storm sighed heavily and then raised an eyebrow to the mention of a Lady Peira.

Who is this woman he mentions so freely? She does not seem a war-like figure, for she is referred to as "Lady"...possibly she is a favor of Lord Hito's...

Her eyes reflected a keen grin. She knew only a small piece of the Fire Lord...things she had learned from her mother...He is fresh and in his youth, a ladies-man none the less. She knew men, and they amused her...the kind that frolicked around the bar scene, played with the women, the kind that were openly arrogant and conceited, the kind that only joked to lure you in, using humor as a weapon to snag young girls like prey...they felt they knew women...only to be extremely disappointed when they realized that they were utterly and completely wrong.

Storm had only found one man who was unlike the rest. One man she sensed was more than just the average, one man who caught her fancy if any man ever could...and she knew nothing of his name, nothing of where he came from, nothing of his intentions, and yet none of it mattered to her. Are men like this as well? Her head spun and his image materialized in her mind...she had burned him, not once but twice! She giggled, and returned to reality sharply...meeting the stare of a strange man who had entered the bar just seconds ago. His eyes of hazel kept her for only a moment, she was uninterested in strangers for now. Excitement drove her, both of the meeting and the memories of the unknown Xander...who, now for once, she knew she loved.

The sound of Van's voice made her head turn sharply back in his direction. Storm's head snapped quickly and her eyes were wide with surprise, she now remembered what she was doing in the first place...

"Yes, Sir. That sounds wonderful." She gave a captivating grin. "I am looking forward to it, really." Storm said this sincerely and she gave another wary look at the cloaked stranger standing at the bar.

"I suppose it is time to retire for the evening. I assume you may have a family to go home to." She paused for a moment. "I will stay here if that is what you wish for me...Although, Pops may not have any rooms left for me to stay in." Storm gave a hinting glance toward the bar, and all of the people still left. Her hands twisted anxiously in her lap, looking longingly at the bar door. She desired to leave with Vantor tonight, but time was not on her side and her patients were being tested. Storm would need to wait until morning to escape once more on her journey to speak with the Fire Lord...unless something proved otherwise to make her time left in town move more quickly .

[Blaze]

Vantor nodded briskly with Storm’s reply. He smiled and watched her for a moment noticing what seemed a containment of most the excitement. Then he looked away to scan the bar once more before leaving.

A new arrival sat by the bar, cloaked and wealthy in coin. Lieutenant Vantor did not like this. The man gave him this weird feeling like something was out of place. He was not a usual face, but somehow he felt familiar. It was the feeling of stories told. Information gathered within his mind. Something should have connected but all thought seemed incoherent. Giving up for the moment, Van glanced back over to Storm. An extra sense of caution seemed the backdrop of her expression. Looking past her, the soldier found his comrade, Da’mon also with his attention towards the bar. Vantor noticed the gruff soldier’s group situated themselves to keep an eye on the strange man, but they kept their volume steady to not give the cloaked figure a hint as to the attention he has drawn to himself.

Then father, friend, and soldier within the man combined to decide Vantor was not to leave until Storm was safe in her room. He looked back to Storm. Perhaps her visage would give him some hint towards action.

“Excuse me.”

Briskly, the soldier stood pushing off the marked table. With a few steps, he stood at the bar but a foot or two from the cloaked stranger. A wave from the familiar young man grabbed the bartender’s attention quickly.

“Hey, Pops. I need a room for the night.” He placed a few coins to cover the expense. “In addition, I promise to take care of your table. You know I’m good for it.” Vantor nodded as a friend would and gestured back towards Storm and his seat.

“Don’t worry about it,” Pops responded shaking his head. “I know I can trust your word, but just don’t worry about it. I know these are the prices for running a small business in a city filled with fire mages and dragons. Besides, you have more important things to do. Here’s the key… you know the room.”

As he spoke with the kind innkeeper, Lieutenant Vantor secretly scoped the new arrival just to his left through peripheral vision. It was a gift he possessed and a skill the military cherished. Hence, the reason for his specified job.

“Thank you.”

Van received his elder friend’s grin, generosity, and help with gratitude and a smile. Finished with his brief investigation and apparent conversation, the young lieutenant retraced his steps back to Storm. Extending his arm to her, he let the key drop from his hand and dangle from its chain. Allowing a big grin to take control of his façade, the man kindly urged her to the room with a playful “C’mon.” He gestured behind him towards the stairs leading to the second level – the same stairs where Peira had disappeared. His friendly visage continued and he offered an empty open hand awaiting a form of acceptance. Lieutenant Vantor needed to know she was safe before he left for home.

[Ife]

The room fully of people
Your heart and mind empty
Busy bodies moving bring warmth
While all you feel is cold
Common talk of buddy’s days
Emptiness of no companions

______________________________________________________________

Ife couldn’t help but only feel angry when he looked around. All were happy or at lest content and sharing a drink with friends or lovers. Always jealous of what “uncursed” people had, he tended to get angry. With his anger rising and very unpleasant mood for having to travel in the rain, the rein on his emotions was thinning. Able to keep himself from physically reacting, he let the steam from his anger blow out through his skin. His skin heated as the release ran through him. The rain that had been on his cloak evaporated slowly enough that you would of had to been looking to see the difference.

Anger released he saw it was in his best judgment to leave for his room before his anger built up again. Collecting his bottle and making sure his hands grasped the key he left. “Ife!” His head, which had been sagging as he was walking, shot up. He knew that he was a popular face, but that was only to the right crowd. This wasn’t a place he thought he’d be recognized quickly. Turning he was embraced by a thin lanky man. Looking closer he could tell the man wasn’t of high standard in the community. He looked almost like a city bum. How on earth did he know Ife? “You lucky dog, how’s life treating you?” racking his mind to try to figure out who the man was he drew a blank. He didn't engage in the embrace but stood still showing his obvious loss of association of the man.

“I’m sorry, but who are you?” the light finally catching a familiar piece of attire; a piece that had been all too familiar. It was a necklace of a woman, a woman he had ran into quite a many years ago. Ife’s eyes popped a bit. He didn’t expect this man to still be alive, never the less able to recognize and speak to him. “Why, don’t you remember me Ife?” an evil grin in the man’s eyes. The necklace was from a woman who had met a very unkind demise. Where was it that this man cam into play. He had been sleeping on the street and witnessed it. Ife had paid him off to keep quite with a decent size amount of money and the necklace. The man originally didn’t want the necklace, but Ife figured that a soldier would see it and know a man like him could never hold such a thing and would be arrested for stealing it. No soldier would have believed the man’s story about this monster killing a woman and bribed him. Now that he thought about it, he didn’t even know how the man knew his name.

“I don’t recall ever meeting you.” Ife’s eyes grew dark. He didn’t want to ever see this man again, he never expected he would. “What is it you want and how’d you learn my name?” He laughed a very snide as if he was the wittiest man in the world. “I have my ways of learning what I need to get what I need.” Ife rolled his eyes, he was asking for more gold no doubt. Ife didn’t want to be seen give such man money. Looking down at the man, seeing he didn’t meet Ife’s height, he gave him a very dark look. Both his fiery and darkness growing in the glare, he could see the man grow craven in his steps. Ife knew he’d see the man again soon. More like later that night, to get ride of him and is risk factor. The man, Ife could tell was never good about his wits. For just Ife’s look scared the man off. He’d find him later that night, and end the problem. Turing away Ife started for his room with a dark look upon him.

[dragonfire]

Storm glanced at Van with a wary grin. She was perplexed more so by the new man who had entered the bar. He was dark looking, now that she could see him clearly. She did not like the aura around him, he reminded her of Warlock Shendre, her mother’s companion, a man of sinister proportions. Storm was indeed afraid of that man, and this one she was curious of. Fear only came from knowing, before then she would not crumble before his likes. Looking intently at the stranger for he was her new focal point, she let Van go on about his business finding a room for her, he could take care of himself.

Turning slightly to get a better view, she saw something she thought was a trick. The rain water on his cloak began to dissipate. Evaporating right before her own eyes. She noticed only because she was concentrating on him, trying to find a power source. If he was human or not. He was definitely not. Storm remained calm…her breathing was even, and the power did not phase her. She could do that…and more. So she continued to watch, no harm in it. Just curiosity. With in a moment, a tall thin man appeared by his side. He was hideous looking, a man off the street. One who had not bathed but tried to look half descent. But alas, the bum did not achieve his goal.

Storm’s eyes narrowed as she continued to watch the conversation. It obviously turned sour. The new stranger did not seem impressed by the shabby man’s visit, and the bum looked quite pleased with himself.

Why let this dirty man get the best of you?

She thought wildly in her head. Storm needed to figure this out. She looked closer to see if she missed something, because something was definitely not right with this. With a few minutes of searching and watching the dialogue continue she finally had an idea. There it was! Right in front of her and she had found it. This grimy man had a necklace, a female jewelry piece, one of great value that could not in any way be his. And if it was indeed not his, were did he get it, and why was he keeping it? He should have bartered it by now for food and drink, but most of all drink…

Her weight shifted quickly as she calculated the facts, and made assumptions. As the men parted she felt a sense of foreboding. This was very unpleasant. Her eyes lit up like a lamp as she saw the dark man make his way toward a room, one among the many rooms upstairs…and among the ones that she would be staying in this evening if Van got her a place. She wanted to warn the skinny bum…maybe. She felt he had seen his last of the inn for the rest of his life…which was about to end.

He must have kept the necklace as leverage… That is the only reason he would have kept it, unless it belonged to his late wife…but really, why still would he have kept it. Desperateness is more potent than sincerity…and making a profit is more so than desperateness…

Storm tired to not think. She was getting ahead of herself, but a part of her told her she was right. The new stranger was a murderer, or at least she assumed so, one who killed women…and tonight…ugly street bums. She could not take it. She wanted to kill the man, before he killed again and her fists clenched tightly. Her jaw twisted and pain was felt as she bit her tongue. She could not let her temper run away with itself. What if her assumption was wrong? Then she would have killed and it would not be justified, her shot at being a soldier would evaporate like the water on the strangers coat.

The next thing she knew she saw Vantor in front of her with the room key, held out for her to take. An offering of friendship. He motioned for her to come, in the same direction the stranger had taken…but she could not move. Her skin was pallid, and her joints were unmanageable. She panicked, she needed to get away.

That man is a MURDERER!

She took off for the door, and hit it with a thud, pulling the iron hinge in her direction she ran out into the darkness, the cold rain pelted her skin, it felt like ice, it was ice. The seasons had changed and the air was frigid, way too cold for Storm. She fell onto the gravel, how childish for her. She felt like an idiot. A complete moron. As the ice fell she laid. Placing her hands back down she noticed the blood, glistening down her wrists and her knees. She lifted herself onto her scraped knees and sat there. She was confused but had nothing else to do, it had been her only option…

Hopefully, Vantor would come for her…

Sorry I just had to change my format. I was tired of the old. Sorry for taking so long, I had been really busy, Thanks for waiting!

[Blaze]

His smile quickly diminished as Storm suddenly bolted for the door. Concern and surprise molded together to form the opposite of calm in its very essence. Lieutenant Vantor ran after her pulling the room key back into his palm. However, before exiting the pub, young Van waved a cursory good-bye to Pops. In addition to the visible gesture of friendly proportions, Vantor glanced discreetly between Da’mon and the stranger. The soldiers understood and the lieutenant trusted the situation in their hands.

He immediately broke through the door and into the alley after Storm. The Lieutenant found her not too far away on the ground. Her hands hovered tenderly in front of her face. Van kneeled upon one knee in front of the woman slightly to her right. His hands extended palms up to both investigate and offer help to his potential comrade.

“Please,” he begged. “What is going on?” Lieutenant Vantor sighed to calm his voice and his body. I don’t think Storm realizes how much she influenced his natural heart rate. “Tell me what’s wrong. It is my job to help. Let me. Tell me what in the world just went through your mind.” One has to guess young Van’s time with the fiery Storm has influenced his verbal tone and persuasion towards her. He knew there was a connection made in her mind which was missed in his; Van needed that connection. The lieutenant was not afraid to ask her help.

Meanwhile, back inside, Da’mon and his off-duty troop waited for Ife to enter his room and for some signal and/or confirmation of their target. The possibility of a brawl loomed over all as a young soldier left the scene dressed in common garb to fetch the local captain who would have some description or information which would be useful in this situation.

The night continued with uncertainty clouding its events except for the daily ritual of the sun rising in praise of Pyran’s glory.

ooc: it might take me a while for my next post... I need to confirm with another player and with Promise the validity of an idea... thanks ;D

[Ife]

Conviction of crime
Judged with hate
Mind miss lead
Information with held
To decide me
Is not their right

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Was she staring? Trying to figure something out about me are we? Ife couldn’t help but be flattered at her curiosity. Ego being one of his many flaws, he let it get to him. Not only did he bring himself false praise but misinterpreted the situation. As he started up the stairs to his room his head was filled with thought. Not really paying much attention to the room numbers he walked to the end of the hallway. He walked instead to the end of the hall where a window looked out over the alleyway below. The soft breeze of the cold air filled his lungs waking him fully. A shiver ran down his body as the cold settled in. Not liking the cold feeling wrapping around his lungs he took a quick swig from his bottle. The cold liquid went down his throat leaving the burning feeling that warmed his insides. Looking out again at the streets he was about to turn to leave for his room but saw below the couple from the bar.

“Tell me what’s wrong. It is my job to help. Let me. Tell me what in the world just went through your mind.”

A small chuckle rumbled through him. Such men, they care for a lady. He took another sip. Some people truly disgust me. This time taking a large sip trying to have the drunk hit him quicker. Shut up you dwit, you know they any disgust you because you envy them. The green eyes of jealousy; such is an evil that not many can over come. He realized his head was right and grew angry with himself. Looking away from the couple Ife’s eyes wondered the streets. Some few blocks away Ife saw the man from the bar. His eyes narrowed at the man and he quickly knew where to take out his anger. With little hesitation Ife left the hall and returned to the bar. Silently he dropped the key and the reminder of the bottle on the bar table and left quickly out the door. The second he was out the door his feet lifted to speed up and run. His goal narrowed in his mind he didn’t even notice if the man and woman were still there or not. His feet just hit the ground and pushed him down the street to turn down another.


o.o.c.- sorry it was short... not much muse at the moment...

[dragonfire]

Storm looked strait ahead. Her mind now clear, she waited patiently for the lieutenant she knew must be shortly behind her. She heard the quick pounding of his sturdy boots against the ground and she sighed lightly, looking at her blood smeared hands. Agitation overcame her solemn expression and her hot orange eyes looked directly into Vantor's. The agitation was not caused by his gentlemanly offer to help her from her knees but from the current task at hand.

This Stranger.

She cleared her throat and quickly brushed her bloody palms on her white toga dress directly above her thighs. Hearing every one of his questions she reached up gingerly for his outstretched hands. Pulling back to get her balance she stood directly in front of him. Her grip on his hands tightend as she pulled herself closer to him for a conference of sorts. Her face lighted as she began to speak. He should know her thoughts, especially if they made her act as she had just done.

"Lieutenant, that man we saw...I swear to the Gods..."

She stopped for a second and shook her head with a small hint of doubt and heaved a heavy sigh; Her eyes grew cold and her determination could be seen against the dark shadows upon her face.

"That man Van, is a murderer. I can feel it, there is just something not right about him..."

Her lips frowned with deep concern. She feared for whom could be harmed by such a man, but she also knew others of the same mold were running about. How could she possibly only worry about one? It was worth it though; she knew it within her heart that ridding the world of one possible killer was better than letting one run free. But still, there was that pit of doubt; Was he really what she assumed? Questioning him would not inflict harm now would it? No. His own actions would then be his downfall, if indeed he was what she said. Still, she did not know.
Storm scanned Vantor's face for a response

"...and yet, he may not be worth going after..."

She was thinking out loud now. Her ideas of catching him were wavering. Her and Lieutenant Vantor really needed to head toward Lord Kaji if they wanted to make any reasonable time in meeting with him. Her grip on her comrade released slowly and naturally as she turned back toward the Bar room door. As she rotated her fiery orbs met the figure of that stranger...who was now accelerating into a run. Her eyes met Vantor's and she forcefully grabbed his wrist like a sister would a brother. Taking off in the direction the mysterious man began to run in she followed him only so far, stopping at the head of the ally he turned onto. Standing, facing the darkness, she screamed, a request...or was it an order?

"STOP!!"

Abruptly spinning, she hoped to see Vantor in her shadow. Disappointment shrouded her face and she sighed once again, a deep low voice poured from her mouth as she spoke to him once more.

"We don't have time for this..."

She paused. Her face once again agitated. Bushing the loose red-blond locks from her brow. She started in an annoyed pace back toward the bar.

"That man wouldn't listen if we set his own hair on fire."

She turned back and looked for her colleague and shrugged.

"I couldn't describe the feeling I received from him, but we must leave it for now. We have more important business...or I...have..."

Her sentence ceased as soon as it had started. Van did not need to be with her. He did not need to help her nor was her business his business.

"Thank-you for letting me drag you about as I have, I am sorry...but now we must go to the Fire Lord. A war is beginning and I do not want to miss it."

[Blaze]

Carefully, Van guided Storm back to her feet. Noticing the blood spread on the pure fabric of her garb, the lieutenant’s eyes filled with concern for his comrade. He watched with full attention as she gingerly rose. Once she had finally begun, the pause which interrupted her answer only intensified the suspense and strengthened Vantor’s concern for the whole situation – Storm and the quarrel between those two strangers. Gently he traced her chin to encourage her to continue.

Unfortunately, her answer was not a pleasant one. Her deduction sent the young and devoted lieutenant searching for a solution to the puzzle that is his night; his eyes hastely scouted the blank space between his masculine form and Storm’s fine figure. His hands held onto her as he quickly analyzed the current situation. However, her next questioning statement jolted him from thought confusing him severely in his opinion of her personality. Storm had struck him as a spitfire woman, a ready-for-anything type of gal, but the woman who had uttered such words is not that woman he met perhaps an hour or so ago in the pub.

“Nonsense,” he whispered under his breath in response. “Our job is worthwhile. Protecting our nation and its people is worth our lives.” Vantor felt her grip on him loosen and her body pull away. Quickly, the soldier gripped her shoulders and looked with a definite confidence in his eyes. Finally, Van finished his out-loud thinking with a more pronounced statement almost directed at Storm. “We do a job worthy of our nation.” Releasing his grip, Van followed Storm’s gaze to find the stranger at a full-out sprint into a nearby alley.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Waiting at the bottom of the creeky staircase, Da’mon, who was becoming a bit impatient, was quite surprised when the sound of a closing door never echoed from the second floor and his suspect reappeared in the first floor bar area. Watchful eyes discreetly followed the stranger’s movements as he dropped the key and bottle and once again exited their sight but this time through the front door.

“Move.”

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Suddenly, after a quick jerk in the same direction, Van ran with a very good, instinctive soldier. She sounds as if she’s already been promoted to captain. He smirked at the thought. It would be an honor to work with her, yet it probably would not likely happen. Storm seemed the type of soldier for combat rather than intelligence, but only Fire Lord Hito could determine proper placement. Oh well. Communication works well enough for a connection to remain fluent enough between the two new comrades.

Van laughed quietly at Storm’s comment, but another glimpse at he running stranger straightened his mile. He looked back to her when she began what seemed an explanation of herself to the soldier. As her sentence trailed, Lieutenant Vantor went back subconsciously to planning. Thoughtful eyes watched Storm’s face as she spoke and presumable considered her options. However, at the chosen word ‘drag’, the fatherly personality in him brought Vantor to momentarily close his eyes in disbelief and shake his head.

“You didn’t drag me about. Free-will is a powerful fact of nature. It was my choice,” he assured her. “But, now, onto business.”

Immediately after, the lieutenant wheeled around eyes quickly searching. Suddenly, his hand snatched out in the night to grab a passing enlisted man’s wrist. With a commanding power backing his actions, Vantor pulled the man closer to him so he would hear the order without question. “Detain him for interrogation. Both of them if possible.” Afterwards, sending the man on his hurried way.

A number of other soldiers quickly passed both before and after Van grabbed his man; they chased soon after the suspect of unknown crimes. Colonel Da’mon followed soon after the off-duty, but devoted, men and stopped at the mouth of the dark alley with Lieutenant Vantor and Storm. Being the unofficial (and official when actually on duty) leader of the small band of men, he had decided to checked in with what the lieutenant was up to before making the official arrest.

“You can handle this?” Vantor asked his superior with a half cocky and half sarcastic sort of tone.

“Of course,” Da’mon answered back the same attitude in his deep voice. He watched the proceedings in the alley carefully without breaking his gaze.

“Good. Please, excuse me, then, for I have business to attend.” Van’s hands slid slowly to Storm’s shoulders and began to tup her in the opposite direction, back towards the local pub. He gave a quick acknowledging nod to the quiet ‘dismissed’ from Da’mon.

Van guided Storm past the small inn to his own humble abode. He offered, “We can set something up for you back at my place. It is a bit closer to the military facilities anyway and we will introduce you to Fire Lord Hito first thing in the morning.” While navigating the candlelit streets into the mountain-contained Feuergeist, the gentle soldier made small talk – about his family and his daughter as well as about things Storm wished to discuss if anything. His smile was tired but his kindness still beamed through in the darkness.

ooc: Okay, I know this was long, but believe it or not I'm not exactly done. Ife, please, hold off on the reply for a little bit so I can get some soldier temp characters in here to help with the arrest/fight... just so things can stay interesting.

[mavrick]

Arcite Mavrick had been sitting at a small table appropriate for two visitors separate from the rowdy group of off-duty men. He had sat quietly sipping his hot cocoa; it filled his chest with a welcome warmth and soothed a raspy throat. Thoughts had roamed loosely about his mind. That is until the unexpected entrance of two unfamiliar men. Like most soldiers should, the young man had nonchalantly, well more like on instincts, shifted into the chair which gives him a view of both men and their exit. He had noticed the lieutenant doing his thing while sitting and enjoying his warm drink. Momentarily, Arcite had forgotten the lieutenant and his female friend to watch the one most suspicious stranger make for the stairs… until a sudden burst of fear encouraged speed sent the woman out the door with her accompanying soldier following hastily behind her. Surprised, Arcite had stood suddenly, just soon enough to catch the glances between Lieutenant Vantor and Colonel Da’mon. To cover himself, he had taken his empty glass to the bar for a refill leaving his uniform overcoat at the small wooden table. The stranger Ife had just as soon passed him at the bar after leaving both key and bottle. Then it had been called – an order to move.

Though off-duty himself, Arcite had rushed out the door after Ife; he followed soon after him and would have kept in step with his target had the lieutenant from the inn not grabbed his wrist to give his orders. He had nodded in recognition before Van sent him on his way.

Mavrick scurries up the corner of a stone building to its flat roof. Hurrying along the alley gradually picking up speed, Arcite notices just what the lieutenant had meant. That man must have left to meet the other; both are suspect – one due to a mere necklace and the other with a higher crime. With only those moments on the rooftop, Arcite assesses the situation. The alley is too small for him as a dragon and therefore, he decides to take them in close combat relying on his strength to give him enough time to form a better strategy.

With great speed, Arcite dives feet first into the alley which may soon be a battle site in its own sense. A solid landing plants the young dragonite in the middle of possible danger, between Ife and his intended target. Without a moment to lose, Arcite grabs the man, Ife’s bane, and leaps back to the roof; his draconic strength allows him to pull the grown man to the roof without too much trouble. He passed the suspect off to a comrade who had caught up with him.

Before jettisoning himself back into the dark alley, he also passes his sword off to his friend. Arcite had not noticed a weapon on his adversary’s person and so he figured it would be unfair to take him with a blade. Besides, a small dagger still lies hidden in his boot in case things would happen to turn for the worst. Back in the fight, Arcite braced himself for the late night brawl.

[Ife]

o.o.c.- hey could you clear up what happened who you grabbed and everything before I repost my post, because I'm confussed and I don't want anything messed up. thanks, sorry for this.

[mavrick]

ooc: oh ok.... sure

Arcite climbed up to the roof of one of the buildings which bordered the alley Ife had run into. Before Ife could actually attack that man, Mavrick had grabbed that man - the man whom Ife had moved to attack - and took him to the top of the roof giving him and his sword to a fellow soldier to handle. Finally, Arcite Mavrick jumped back into the alley to confront Ife either with a conversation or fists.

Does that clear things up or is there something else?

[Ife]

o.o.c.- Yes, it clears up things a whole bunch. I'll have my post up some time soon.

[Ife]

A conflict meant to be resolved by one
And only one
Is not readily opened to another
___________________________________________________________

If had not even managed to get a fix on the man he had intended to speak with when suddenly a figure managed to take him from Ife sights. Stopping dead in his tracks Ife looked over at the figure that was in his view and then suddenly missing from it. Ife couldn’t help but wonder as to why the, unknown to Ife, soldier had taken the man away. How would they know Ife had been seeking him out? He hadn’t made any real movement to attack the man, or even come in contact with him. The only tie thus far was the brief conversation between them at the pub. Standing there watching the man come back down Ife was in a mood for mixed reaction. Was he to rebel against the man, was he to run from the man, or was he to “converse” with the man.

Frowning when the man returned, Ife seemed to have a heated sense about him. The liquor now dying from his brief run, and his mind sober, Ife was fully aware of what was about him. Standing tall and not letting his chin fall Ife spoke to the man. “Sir, would you be kind enough to tell me what this is all about?” The moon high in the sky catching on his hazel eyes making them seem full of fire and thirst for conflict, but the dark pools of his pupils showing the depth to his darkness. His eyes burned with a raging intensity and the shadow on his body making his size and the flexing of his muscles a mystery. Stepping back a bit to the shadows of the alley, resting his shoulders against a wall to support his frame, he looked the man down. “I do not like, nor would many others, that you are involving yourself in my affairs.”

Anger started to flow openly through his body, and the beast inside him started to claw its way out. Closing his eyes for the slightest moment to hold back the beast, he focused all the energy in his tensing fists and succeeded in trapping the beast in his eyes. This time when he opened his eyes the danger the man was pursing showed it self. It was the only warning Ife was choosing to be fair enough to give him. Catching the man’s eyes he focus on him and made sure the sent of the, the sound of his blood pumping, and the essence of his life were memorized. Closing his eyes the beast within its cage Ife spoke again. “I’ve committed no crime, and unless you are an official or intent on murdering me you have no reason to pursue me. So leave my business to me!” A growl escaped his lips at the end of his sentence.

[Ife]

o.o.c.- we still posting here?

[Blaze]

ooc: I am assuming Storm's post (if she still decides to post here) will mainly be her leaving. Therefore, I am going to continue.

bic:

From the mouth of the alley, the off-duty colonel listened as two sets of footsteps – those of the lieutenant’s and those lighter of his female companion – drifted further away into the night while his eyes focused on the unfolding scene spread before him. A few men had brought torches from the streets to light faces and give those of more humanoid standards a better chance to see in this dark alley. Meanwhile, the rest of the small band of men (consisting of a total of seven or eight men) readied themselves around the suspected Ife – two behind Arcite and three between Ife and Da’mon. Colonel Da’mon said nothing in response to the suspect’s forceful comment. They were not addressed towards him and besides, he wanted to see what the kind-hearted Arcite Mavrick would do when confronted. He and his men were there if the situation did turn for the worst on young Mavrick. Until then, it was the dragonite’s responsibility to handle this situation.

Crossing his arms in front of him, Da’mon continued ‘supervising’. With enough volume to reach the three of his men standing in front of him, he ordered, “Hold positions.” Besides, that man does not like meddlers. A rather humored smirk crossed his shadowed visage. Past personalities were after all hard to part with for all individuals.

Being that the mountain Feuer-Bohrung kept the city at a comfortable temperature for the most part, none of the men were wearing their uniform overcoats currently; Da’mon understood that they were not recognized as soldiers. However, besides that, most the men still wore basically the same thing – the uniform’s pants and shirt included – though some of the men had made their own modifications.

This was definitely an interesting development. Where will you lead us young dragonite? And how will you force us, pub filth?

ooc: also, I'm sorry if it is a bit short. I am leaving this mainly in Arcite's hands... if you don't mind, Mavrick.

[mavrick]

Back in the torch-lit alley, Arcite had once again scouted around him to analyze his current surroundings. There stood one man on the roof standing guard over the unnamed street bum watching the scene below. The man, yet unknown as Ife, was surrounded by six men not including the colonel – Mavrick was included in a trio near the “dead end” of the alley.

After the man’s first inquiry, Corporal Arcite Mavrick fell silent in his ignorance. He did not have an honest answer for this man before him. It was instinct and an order to move which brought him to confront this stranger – nothing more. Even so, unease came over the young soldier Arcite as visible rage filled Ife’s eyes. Animal instinct tells him to run, draconic pride tells him to fight, soldier experience tells him to wait. With a wary resolve, Arcite plants himself firmly in front of Ife not wanting to seem the coward to his fellow soldiers. The dragonite was just about to let loose a makeshift answer for the stranger’s previous question when his next comment had been released – that about involving oneself in other individuals’ matters. Corporal Mavrick came back with a firm comment of his own, one which he has believed for a good number of years already. “Even some good can come out of a little intervention in the overall scheme of things.”

Arcite watched as the anger began to boil at a higher temperature. He could smell, or sense for a better word, the shift and rise in anger. His muscles tensed and his left foot shifted slightly behind so his jump would have a bit more power behind it. The body followed suit with slight muscle movements making his figure to crouch lower with signs not too obvious of the change. Ife’s warning, though of a subtle standing, was as clear as day to the dragonite ascendant causing a rippling effect in both muscles and scales. Mavrick took it as an open threat and had to force his own beast down.

“As for our identities,” though his soldier called out, mainly in defense of his own position and identity, “those are really none of your concern. However, we have reason to believe you are a threat to the city’s peace. Please come with us quietly and we will sort this out with diplomatic decency.”

The young man’s voice was that of the mild baritone – quieter, with less command than the higher ranked officers, and with less vocal power than Algaësia’s harshest fighters; however, it held a different confidence. It was the confidence of loyal comrade and a dependably honest man. This man is not to be taken lightly though. Cat-like luminescent yellow eyes exhibited their own fire directed as a shield against ignorant threat.

ooc: not really ... gives me something to do... I apologize if I didn't handle it as directly as you would have liked... can't drop character ;D

[dragonfire]

Storms fiery eyes never left that of Vantor’s as he spoke to her in the night. She took in every word and made it paramount to understand every phrase every gesture. Storm was indeed a young woman but she knew what it took to stay alive and gain trust. Listening and learning was never a waste of time.

She could not help but chuckle lightly on his comment of “free will”. Her head turned forward as she stared off into the unending darkness of the city streets, so quiet and peaceful and yet her valiant heart could not calm its rapid beating. Breathlessly, almost a whisper, she released her thoughts…

“Aye, yes…” She said with a soft smile, “not everyone has that luxury…”

She turned back just in time to see the unsettled soldier reach out into the liquid black and pull from it a human hand. Her posture turned stiff as Van inserted orders into the action whipped soldier, who disappeared as quickly as his hand had materialized in the darkness. No sooner had the band of young men dispersed to do the dirty work, did another man make his presence known beside them both.

Storm could only stare with humor in her eyes. It was no longer a time for small talk. The sensed arrogance of both men was typical in her mind, almost comical. Her eyebrows raised slightly as Vantor turned her from the hasty meeting of old friends to face the local pub once more, or at least its general direction. Her soft pounding feet on the cobble stone seemed to match that of the pounding in her chest. The rush of duty and commitment to her homeland seemed to make every muscle in her body full of life, passion and lust. Storm craved it; wanted it…almost as much as the Fire Lord desired his endless blushing beauties.

Looking onward she turned her neck in Van’s direction as he spoke and she nodded in an approving manner. Storm was pleased with the progress they had made and anxious to learn of what occupation she would hold in the Military of Fire.

Their soft worn shoes made the alley way full of choirs. That of hushed drums. They slowly echoed off of the sleeping village and carefully into the waiting night. Storm continued to talk quietly with the friendly soldier all the way down the shadowed street. As quick as they rounded the end of the block, the town, once more, was silent.

[Ife]

I am the one that condemns myself
Why must every one else too?
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------


“As for our identities…” Ife knew he was one to have a short temper, but he never knew to be so quickly put to the point of wanting to rip some one’s throat from their body, but the man’s next statement made Ife chuckle. “Those are really none of your concern. However, we have reason to believe you are a threat to the city’s peace. Please come with us quietly and we will sort this out with diplomatic decency.”

“For one sir, I believe it is my concern if you believe you have the right to take me away to some place. I do believe I should know who it is that is taking me to some place where I would assume you wish to “question” me of some sort. For all I know you could be the gang Darza. I quiet frankly wish not to be just carted off by murders. And the information as to where I’d be going would be nice as a matter of fact. Second, if you wish for “your identities” to remain secret do not tell me I’m a threat to the city’s peace; that tells me you’re a soldier or like I said a band of murders. And lastly, this is anything but decent.”

Ife stood his ground leering at the man. His rage and ridicule stood affront his smile and gleaming eyes. Such confidence in yourself, HA! Ife flooded his arms over his chest. Ife just now inspecting the men around him he noticed most of the pants worn by the men were very similar. Indeed they were similar; he had seen them enough to know they were soldier pants. Ife closed his eyes and shook his head. It was the fire nations military. They were indeed people he needed to fear; he could very well lose his head for a scrap with these men. All these men were no doubt trained in the techniques of fighting. Ife had little training and had learned from many scraps that he wasn’t the best man for a battle. Ife’s eyes still closed his mouth turned into a grim line. Oh how he hated these people. Always condemning him for what he has done when he already condemns himself. I am put on trial by no one but myself! Ife opened his eyes this time and nothing was there… but the monster he truly was.

“Even some good can come out of a little intervention in the overall scheme of things. Your intervention only mocks the fire military! Now back away from me. I am leaving these lands.” Ife couldn’t control the beast inside him any longer. He turned from the unknown mavrick and leaped high onto the wall of the building next to him. As his hands and feet touched the building side his claws extended and pierced the wall. The black wings on his back ripped through his skin, shirt and shredding the cloak on him. With the next flexing of his muscles Ife threw himself from the wall out into the air of the small alley his wings already opening form his back and releasing one great flap to take him up and beyond the tops of the buildings. The monster inside him was free.



o.o.c.- sorry it took so long...

[Blaze]

The colonel could do nothing but stifle his own amusement at the young soldier boy’s ideal thoughts of peaceful progression. Far more experienced of both ends of arrest, Da’mon perceived Arcite as naïve and still quite childish an unappealing trait for those of the renown Mavrick family. Despite the rising tension visible within the young dragonite’s blue-yellow eyes, as a superior officer, Da’mon thought Corporal Mavrick less than satisfactory a pick for this arrest. Still he allowed Arcite the chance to prove his qualifications.
One could faintly hear the scraping of boots against the adobe wall over the cackle of torches.

Keeping a straight face, however, became far more difficult when the stranger let out an amused chuckle of his own; a subtle smirk crossed over his serious visage. However, it was quickly quelled and full attention came at the ready upon the mentioning of the gang Darza. They had proved a troublesome lot. It was one thing to confront a stranger in a dark alley, but to find a cult of murders when you were alone was nothing but death and perhaps even suicide. To top it off, the sheer comparison of the off-duty group of soldiers to that gang of criminals was far past indignant. Da’mon had left behind that life of pure destruction for that to protect life and worked hard to prove himself worthy of trust. Despite his steady rise in rank, a few of the higher-up still watched this former thief with unrelentless scrutiny. He worked hard and followed the rules hoping to finally be rid of his past reputation and here was this stranger pulling him back in with thieves and murders!

Your intervention only mocks the fire military!

Rage undulated into his previously indifferent gaze matching that within Ife’s own monstrous glare.

“Take him.” His voice came cold. The command was absolute. All men understood the required action.

Through the mask of shredded fabric and blood, Da’mon could see a silhouette cast in fire light descending upon the now winged beast. It was one of his larger men who had climbed the side of the building to just acquire a better view of the whole scene. Luckily he was in the perfect position to take a creature of flight. Muscle mass fell through darkness; he groped for flesh – wing, arm, leg, chest – anything to pull the opposing beast back to the ground where reinforcements waited to help him.

ooc: I apologize if this forces short replies but I unfortunately cannot continue without knowing whether or not his attempt is successful.

[:voice:_:within:]

“Leave child, these matters do not concern you.”

The pads of her soft black string sandals made a small muffle as she made her way slowly across the red marble floors leading away from her father’s study. Her shadow grazed over the marble and turn the marble a deep crimson red; the same shade of blood. Her anger made her feel like it wasn’t her shadow that made the war like color but her boiling blood under her skin. As if the color was from the burning flush in her cheeks. Her teeth so hard pressed against each other matching the strength of the marble beneath her feet. Her soft rasp of struggling to control her breathing echoed in the silence of the empty hallway. The empty hallway… Eyes on the floor, she just continued to walk and walk the massive length of the hallway. Fine tapestry hung from the every on the cream colored walls, each depicting the years of the fire lands history. The years Selena spent up late at night studying each and every one by the soft candlelight played through her mind. She’d leave her room through the maids’ passageways in dirty robes and travel around the manor until she found the tapestry she hadn’t memorized yet. She’d sit there and scan them until the story played over and over in her mind. A picture really was worth a thousand words and more. Selena loved her land and loved to devote to Pyran and her Lord, but her father thought is wasn’t something for his daughter to concern herself. She was meant to find a husband worthy of her and let him be concerned. So it was in the night that she devoted her time to her lands history. The only mystery left to her was the present; there wasn’t a tapestry to study about the new war, about her lord yet.

Selena stopped in front of her favorite tapestry and lifted her eyes from the ground. This was the one of her ancestor and the lord of his time standing next to each other. This was the day her ancestor rose her family to become one of the highest-ranking families in all the land. –He wouldn’t force me to be ‘a lady’-. Her eyes roamed his dark tanned skin from the years of fighting and the deep smile. He loved his land just as much as Selena; though… he could do something about it. A breeze grazed her skin and lifted a few strands of her hair. She momentarily ignored the source of the cold air and kept her head raised high and proud to her ancestor. Though when a deep throat cough met her ears she turned her head quick to catch her father’s eyes. Quickly she darted her eyes to the floor and whispered a soft apology to her father. He just frowned and walks past her with the deadly grace of a gazelle. She knew her father was far from practiced but he was still good enough with his gift to put her easily in her place. Hanging close on his heels was Zellock’ver Deaz; her father’s closes ‘friend’. He gave Selena a lustful look as he quickly passed her. Selena was no fool to think that if she didn’t find a suitor soon that met her father’s standards she would be married off to him. True, he was quite a handsome man and swift with his words, but the second his ring graced her fingers she would have no independence, nothing to own the name Selena to.

Her hesitance earned her the escort of one of the maids to the dinning table. Dressed in her black robe as norm she followed the traditional proceedings of the formal dinner and only spoke when spoken to. She was introduced as always to all the lords, ladies, and army commanders that showed and she knew exactly, maybe better than her father, who each and every one was when spoken to. It wasn’t uncommon to be commented on her politeness and properness. She knew though that the words only met the standards her parents had set. When the dinner was done Selena pardoned her self and swiftly made her way to her room. Something in her suddenly seemed wrong; she felt as if her throat was closing and needed air. Her eyes quickly darted from one side of her perfect room to the other. She couldn’t stop the sudden wave of nausea and claustrophobia. She ran to the gothic style doors leading off onto her balcony and fumbled with the door. It was now when there was sudden need to open them that she just could figure out how to get the flaming things open. Her hand slipped and a sharp decoration on the door cut her palm open. Cursing her parents for insisting on the doors when they made up her room, she ran quickly to her closet and ripped open a trunk. Deep under a bunch the child garments from her youth was the rags she was looking for. Not able to wait long enough to completely change she just threw her garments as best she could over her robe and ran quickly back to the main of her room. Fumbling with a segment of her wall until it suddenly gave away with a soft groan and squeal of the hinges. Her sandals made no nose against the cement flooring of the maid passages. Not giving a glance at any of the maids she past, and them not giving her one, she ran as fast as she could without tripping down the long hallways, quick turns and narrow stairs. It wasn’t long that her memorization of the halls led her to one of the few doors that led to the streets.

As she burst from the building the cold air ripped into her skin and made her already weak knees shake. As the cold burned deep into her lungs, eyes closed, she felt a feeling of calm come over her. Her throat gave way and consumed the air with a dying hunger. Her gasps of air were barely audible to her ears. Finding her peace quickly as she always did when the sudden panic attack hit her she opened her eyes and reached for the door back into her home. Only when she saw the group of big men not a foot from her and a monster up in the air did she realize she came out the door that she couldn’t get back into and was really far from the high section of town. This was the door the maids left only during the day and when they needed to go get alcohol. Her mouth opening and closing rapidly she was unable to breath all over again.

“Dear Pyran protect me…” Her soft words came out as her body gave over its weight to gravity and her mind turned black with faint. Her body fell quickly into the nearest man; a soldier unknown to her.


o.o.c.- sorry for jumping in her, but it was an opening and I was looking for characters like yours

[mavrick]

The men attacked. Corporal Mavrick stayed where he was attempting to bring the beast within under control. Arcite knew his dragonite form was too large for the small back alley and therefore an unwise course of action. It took him a moment before he was ready to join the colonel’s men in the attack. However, even as he prepared himself to help in bringing the demon back to the ground another more unforeseen factor moved itself into his path.

A feminine figure blocked his view of Colonel Da’mon. In the torchlight, a she seemed to have walked out of a wall in his peripheral vision. But the way she got there was not of any significance at the moment. She was literally in the line of fire. Arcite picked up on her breathing noting her panic and sensing – not to mention understanding – her fear. Her dark hair flowed to the mid of her back while her fair skin glowed in the red of the flames from behind black dress.

Time slowed. He watched the scene progress with luminescent eyes. The demon floated higher into the air. A bulk of muscle descended slowly upon him. Men sprung to action in slow motion. Colonel Da’mon watched from the opposite side of the alley potent rage seeping from him. Young beauty stood frozen in the middle of it all.

Ears pricked at the soft plea for protection, for a safe haven, from the divine. Gravity took hold. Her honey brown hair turned red rippled with the slightest downward movement. Her black dress folded in on itself as her legs gave under her slender weight. Instinct took over. Arcite moved into her falling figure with outstretched arms. Muscular arms folded around her form holding her to his chest. Time started again with the soft touch of her body to his own.

He quickly scanned for an opening. The only way out of the foreseeable battle zone was up and out – passed the demon of the hour. With an instant in thought on his knees, he made his choice. From a half-crouch, Arcite Mavrick leaped to the opposite wall hoping to find the girl safety.

[Ife]

The physical Pain is nothing
Compared to the deep throb
Down within my soul

The ripple effect Ife had caused brought life suddenly to life. As he moved for his escape, so did the men to follow. Ife had not thought the men on the ground would be able to grab him from the sky. Their bodies forced to obey the laws of gravity. However as Ife looked up from the various weapons coming his way he saw a body, a very large and muscular body, falling down upon him. Ife was not strong enough to pull the man with him no matter how hard he tried. He knew that if he were to rid himself quick of the man and be freed from the scene he would have to knock the man off. From the build the building the man would not be able to get an easy grip on his body
With split seconds to react, Ife projected his body so that as the man fell upon Ife they would crash into the wall on the side of the ally. With only moments to for the man to get his grip on Ife slick skin from blood and sweat and then rushing into the wall he was only able to cause a relatively decent sized gash in his chest. Ife let the man go and fall down to the ground. Blood flowing from yet another place in his body, Ife was barely able to dig his claws into the building to stop his downward momentum. Running only on adrenaline, his feet claws ripped into the building and pushed him up the slope of the building. Sharp chips of the building fell down into the ally on the men along with his blood.
Ife made it on to the top of the roof. His chest barely able to bring him enough oxygen and it heaved up and down. Only briefly pausing, he rushed started again and rushed off the edge of the building to help bring wind under his wings to help him glide rather than use more energy than necessary to fly.
I need to find shelter to wrap myself up and rest. Then I’ll need to feed. Not here, no… far away. Must move… must keep moving and never stop… never.

His bleeding forgotten by a deeper pain waking in his chest. His wings taking full force that his body could give him and flew off as fast as he could to the city borders and away.

o.o.c.- sorry it took so long and sorry if its not the best... I'm very unused to my characters from being away from them so long

[Blaze]

The brute of a man descending upon the winged beast was quickly warded off. He was suddenly pinched between stone and the mass of demonic muscle with the hard smack of his back against the wall accompanied by a groan. Da’mon’s soldier had quickly lost his wind and nearly his sense, but continued to grasp for anything to pull Ife down with him. His fingers were successful in clasping around flesh, perhaps an arm; unfortunately, he failed to keep a tight grip of his quarry. Ife literally slipped through his fingers and the bulky man fell unceremoniously to the alley trash below

With a terrible clashing of discarded items, the first wave to take the troop’s opponent down fell to the side. Immediately after this man was out of the way, a manipulator conjured his flame from the torches in the small space. The beast was having trouble breaking the downward momentum transferred by muscle and gravity providing ample opportunity to strike. However, as he let loose a tremendous fire attack, the demon regained control allowing him to escape the blaze.

Colonel Da’mon scoffed at the embarrassment his company and therefore himself suffered. This capture was becoming far more troublesome than he had expected. The naïve Corporal Mavrick was on a roof out of the way and still his men failed to accomplish one arrest.

Despite all their efforts, the unnamed beast escaped to the sky roughed up and bleeding. Da’mon looked to the roof. Perhaps the young Mavrick boy would prove himself now?

[mavrick]

With a soft thud, Arcite Mavrick landed safely on the roof with precious cargo in arms. The corporal breathed heavy from the adrenaline now rushing his system from when the winged demon in attempting to escape the descending hulk had nearly collided with the young dragonite. Half kneeling, the man gently laid the woman on the course flat roof sliding his firm arm from behind her back and his hand from under her head.

Turning quickly, yellow-blue eyes fell upon the beast now breaking away from the group of off-duty soldiers. Tossing his jacket and shirt aside, Arcite took his stance grounded between the rogue and his newly-found charge. He deemed the roof big and strong enough. His feet were rooted wide and his center of gravity supported low. Hands clenched into fists remained steady in front of his chest held by sturdy arms parallel with his thighs. Pain boiled up through him. Attempting to perform the transformation as quickly as possible, the young man grunted against it.

Light skin transitioned into black. His slender face began to elongate into a muzzle and a tail pulled itself from his backside. Arcite’s body protested against the abuse. Nearly unbearable pain ripped through his body. Bones snapped and grew and muscles stretched.

Larger cat-like eyes spied Ife’s arrival on the roof ahead of him. The dragonite fell on four partially formed talons with his tail weaved carefully around Selena. Small scales began to appear out of his flesh. His uniform pants stretched around this new form seams almost to the point of failure. Ife sprinted to the other end of the roof. Desperate, Arcite pulled back from the pain and in his mind found his center. Fire raged up from his chest springing forth from his muzzle igniting the night sky with blue flames. Pain shot through him from the attempt. With his throat not complete in its transformation of flesh, partially human his throat burned. Unfortunately, Arcite had also missed. A dragonite was not meant to attack mid-transformation and so his attack fizzled out a small distance in front of him. Ife took to the sky. Once again he had tried and once again Arcite failed in the capture.

Now with the quarry out of reach and just barely still in view, dizziness overcame this dragon’s cousin. His knees buckled and with a heavy thwump fell on his knees (and elbows) and then onto the side of his long belly. The transformation was nearly complete, but with his lack of motivation, he now had to endure the pain of returning to his humanoid form otherwise stay on the roof and scare the strange woman who had stepped out of the shadows. Pain overwhelmed him now having previously been dampened by the adrenaline of the capture. Low rumbles transitioned into groans of pain by a young tenor voice.

Beads of sweat dotted his brow and soon he was breathing at the normal pace again. Arcite rolled onto his back with his arms stretched out to his sides. He laid there practically naked with a few scraps from his pants still clinging to his legs. Idly his hand searched and found his shirt; with a sigh, the man covered himself making no other attempt to move for the moment.

He listened to the hustle below. Da’mon’s men were probably now cleaning up the mess and tending to wounded. Besides being one of the more arrogant of Fire’s officers, Da’mon still took care of his men and Corporal Mavrick had to give him some credit for that.

[Blaze]

Closing his eyes, Da’mon directed his attention back to the ground before him. Arcite’s transformation had been impressive but unfortunately still too slow and their quarrel had disappeared into the night sky.

With only a moment in thought about their embarrassing failure as a whole, the Colonel their misfortune from his mind and finally turned back to clean up the mess. Men were bleeding and one broken. Medical assistance was required. Perhaps their only good luck for the night was that the military infirmary was just little down the road.

Making for the group of men gathered around his subordinate who had fallen a good distance, Colonel Da’mon picked up a pole about the size of a javelin. His men parted for their leader allowing him to assess the situation. The man before him was bleeding from a number of scratches but more significantly sat there in an uneven position with a broken leg and arm. Structured as the face was, it was twisted in pain – eyes closed and breathing heavy.

“Can you walk? The infirmary is not too far.” Da’mon asked.

Here was the problem. This was one of the bigger men in his group. All the men were tired after the recent adrenaline rush and pushing him around would definitely agitate the wounds. It would just be better if he could move himself. He would be able to treat his aches with tender care as he moved rather than him yelling at his comrades to lift off any particular area.

“I’ll make it,” the man confirmed dutifully and with the help from his comrades, he began on his way.

Da’mon turned watching the group of men carefully moving through the dimly lit streets. Dropping his head, the man sighed at the mess that had been made during the short scuffle. The demon had only made a worst mess for himself but at least they had his personal quarry from which to attain answers. Speaking of which, the last subordinate came down from the roof with the ruffian in tow.

“Mavrick’s still up there, sir.”

“I know. Thank you. Take him to confinement,” the man’s leader commanded gesturing to their catch. “I want answers.”

“Yes, sir,” came the response quickly before the man rushed to follow orders.

Immediately, the rough leader turned back to the building lining the alley. Critical eyes scanned up the wall to the roof which hid from view. With a deliberate tone, the colonel called up to Corporal Mavrick. His voice was cut and clear. It was a command.

“Clean yourself up and take care of the woman, Corporal. We’ll take care of the rest.” He paused for a moment in silence before turning to leave the alley. Then he called out behind him.

“You did good.”

ooc: Sorry VW... just wanted to wrap my business up here so I can get out of your way... have fun ;D

[mavrick]

With arms stretched out to his sides, Arcite’s yellow-to-blue draconic eyes stared into the space above him to the cave ceiling protecting this part of the city. Laying there in silence, he listened to the men in the alley beneath him. Acute hearing picked up on the subtle happenings below. He could hear the men leaving and the shuffling feet of men helping a comrade along with the systematic plunk of a staff aiding an injured man walk.

After a moment, he picked up on the mention of his name and then the scurrying of another set of feet rushing away. Staring at the black above him, the dragonite wished only to lay there staring into nothing hoping his body would mend itself quickly. His throat burned and he feared to test his voice, but other than that injury caused by brash split-second decisions, his body was whole. Sweat speckled his tanned flesh and coated his black hair. The adrenaline had released its grip on his body fluids, but his body only throbbed slightly.

Then he heard his aftermath order travel through the still air. He rolled himself slowly to reach the roof’s edge. Waving recognition around the edge, Arcite immediately returned to the flat of his back.

You did good… At the sound of Da’mon’s words, Arcite carefully crawled back to the roof’s edge. He was almost too shocked to smile, but he didn’t smile; facial muscles didn’t have the strength.

Finally taking a deep breath and exhaling it all in an exasperated sigh, the dragonite slapped the roof beneath him pushing himself up off his butt and onto his bare feet. First business, Arcite tied his jacket around his hips to cover himself and put his shirt on. This was the closest to decency he could get to in the circumstances.

Once semi-covered, the young man turned to his charge. She was a beautiful young woman with honey brown hair that seemed to absorb the dim light coming from the streets below and creamy skin that glowed in the same light. Lowering once again, Arcite carefully slid his arms under her slender frame. With her once more in his arms, the dragonite leapt off the roof. His legs absorbed the shock bending his knees creating a soft landing for the most part.

He turned the corner around into the pub. The old man greeted them with a surprised glance at most likely Arcite’s bare conditions. Walking to the bar counter, the young man tried to get as close as he could without making Selena uncomfortable. Persistent pain in his throat, Arcite did not want to push his luck.

“Pants… room… please,” his coarse voice managed and the owner quickly responded. They were taken to a room in the back with a cot. Arcite immediately laid her on the little mattress. He brushed her long hair from her face running his finger along her forehead.

Feeling some weight on his shoulder, the corporal turned to find the owner with a pair of old brown pants and a small pitcher of water. The dragonite nodded his thanks and then the owner left the two some privacy leaving the water on the floor. Arcite put the pants on and dropped the jacket to the floor. His body was soon to follow sliding down the wall to sit on the floor near her honey-crowned head. Eyes closed leaving his body for momentary rest.

ooc: OK... we're good now VoiceWithin ;D