Attack on Dun Medwe

[Saint]

Miles and miles of Le'Chery grassland swept out to either side of the main road. A sight that Rivin was most familiar with, green grasses swaying in the wind, and dark clouds on the horizon. The movements of air creating a wave like effect on the surrounding hills. It was often that Rivin would close his eyes and contemplate the size of the lands around his home. It was easy to imagine this space as infinite, ongoing and never ending. The Le'Chery grasslands were a visage into the past, a land of little change and little gain. Rivin and his father were on their way to Dun Medwe, one of the small villages on the way to what could be considered the areas Capital. His family would toil on their farm for months, only to bring the majority of their harvest to the Dun. From there it would be processed and shipped off to Le'Chery. Though the town wasn't the largest, it was still in need of outside imports. Without the tiny villages in the region the people of Le'Chery would probably starve. That was one of the reasons that Rivin took pride in his work. He knew that his effort might go unappreciated, but it still contributed to the bigger whole.

The cart that his family had purchased many years back had begun to fall apart. It's wheels and seat were in a sore need of repair, and it probably wouldn't be long until something important broke. Sighing he looked on down the road and let his mind wonder. It wouldn't be long now until they reached the Dun, and then they could proceed to get their goods unloaded at the general store. His thoughts continued to drift, and he found himself thinking of the hero's in the stories his father used to tell him. They would take great journey's trekking across the land, saving cities filled with people from dark monstrosities and evil armies. He found himself smiling even though he knew most of what his father told him was untrue. It brought him back to a time when he had wished to be one of hero's sung about in Inns and Taverns. Shaking his head he realized how childish he used to be. His family came first before such dreaming, and Rivin after many years of dreaming had come to accept reality.

Coming back into focus Rivin noticed that the Dun was now only a mile off in the distance. One of the easiest ways to find a settlement was to follow the smoke. It wasn't often that a town or village didn't have some kind of fire going, be it a fire from a smithy's shop, or one for warmth at an Inn. The glaze over his eyes was now gone, in its place his usual observant manner had taken effect. It wasn't like him to go off into wonder land, but every once in a while he allowed himself such a luxury. Though his father was a simple farmer, the man had taught his son how to look at the world and observe carefully. The ability to take in everything and to learn from what was observed. The extent of this skill in Rivin was first discovered in the E'Kraune. That year had been a bad harvest, and Rivin's father and the other men hailing from farms in the surrounding area, had decided that a hunting expedition was in order. People had begun to starve, and everyone was in sore need of food.

Rivin's father had brought the boy along, wishing to teach him something new. The hunt had gone on for over a week or so, when the men had discovered signs of a small heard of deer. They followed the heard a decent distance into the forest, unaware that they were being stalked by something dangerous. It was Rivin who first observed the beast that followed them. With the knowledge that the hunters had suddenly turned into prey, they made camp in the woods. Using the indigenous plant known as the screaming whip, they set a trap for what was following them. When night came they acted as if they had gone to bed, and it wasn't long until the thing that had been following them attacked. It happened to be a web bear, and although a man was injured in the coming fight, Rivin had saved the lives of his fathers peers. Most likely had he not spotted the creature, the camp would have been caught unaware, and men would have died.

Brows furrowing Sivin seemed to grow frustrated at himself for his day dreaming. The cart pulled to a stop and the man child jumped off his seat. Stretching he waited for the shop keeper to direct him in the placement of the corn they had brought. His father and him would stay at the Inn tonight and probably go home in the morning. It wasn't wise to travel the plains in the dark, especially as of late. Rumors had been going around of terrible beasts and human like creatures attacking hamlets around the country side. It wouldn't do for such a thing to happen to him..

[hiss the villain]

The inn in question was a two-story affair, and while it was well-maintained, all the love and care in Valucre couldn't hide the fact that it was beginning to age. The porch sagged when stepped on, oft eliciting a creak from the boards and a weary groan from somewhere deeper in the foundation. The interior was plain; though it carried a solid familiarity that spoke of long years of dignified service. The tables were always clean, the ale wasn't watered down (much), and though the common room was rarely filled to capacity, not an afternoon went by that it did not see a handful of regulars and a few travelers.

Today, however, a man sat at one of the tables that lined the far wall who had never been there before. He was a remarkably plain man; the lines of his face were gentle, his features fine, but there was an edge about his eyes that stopped him before "attractive". Short-cropped brown hair framed a slightly-too-narrow face; the hands that rested on the table, too, seemed just a shade too thin to be healthy. His physique was difficult to make out, swathed as he was in a forest green cloak. His shield, a three-foot tower, leaned against the tattered brown rucksack he had slung under the table, turned inwards to hide the skinned corpse, staked hand and foot over a crimson field.

The arms of the Butcher King were not well known, but it would not do to have people asking questions about where Ventis had managed to come across the Bulwark. He wore the Vigilance beneath his cloak; he often did, the aged armor had become like a second skin in his years of combat with it. Heartseeker, a plain blade sheathed in a plain scabbard, also leaned against the table. Both his shield and sword were within easy reach, but judging by the smile that crinkled around pale grey eyes when the serving girl whisked towards him with a foaming tankard in hand, Ventis was not here for trouble.

He went largely unnoticed by the regulars- or, if he did catch their attention, he lost it quickly. An armored man was nothing new in these parts; the Dun sat between Le'Chery and E'Kraune Forest, and was thusly a regular stop for merchant caravans, travelling mercenaries, or any number of other sights that most small villages would consider extraordinary.

Ventis, for his part, had little in the way of a destination. He had served for a time as a guard for a caravan- his contract expired somewhere near the Lantern Steppe, and the warrior had declined to renew it. Rather, he had struck off to the northwest. Eventually, this led him to the Soothsigh river. This, he followed north until the forest loomed before him. Supplies low, and his back aching, Ventis had caught sight of the rising pillars of smoke that signified civilization. He had only just arrived- the dust of the road still clung to his rucksack, and as the spellbreaker lifted the tankard to his lips and took a deep draw of the rich, yeasty ale, he seemed to slump in on himself.

Fatigue began to lift; tense muscles began to unknot themselves. The grey eyed man nursed his ale like that for some time, seated with his hands on the table, cradling his drink.

His eyes, however, missed nothing. Whether it be paranoia or long-bred warrior's instinct, grey flats never settled in one place for long. He scanned the common room once every handful of seconds- this appeared to be automatic, as the faraway look in his eyes spoke of a man distracted.

He shifted, leather groaning, and metal creaking. His mind was indeed elsewhere- on the disturbing rumors he had heard from a travelling tinker. After having swapped pleasantries, and a few coins to mend Ventis' battered cooking pot, the man had unleashed a torrent of words. Through the verbal onslaught, Ventis managed to catch a few golden kernels- most especially, that the forest he had so nearly stumbled into was struck through with aberrant creatures. Briefly, the spellbreaker entertained thoughts of tracking them down; of clearing the forest of their ilk. These thoughts he dismissed quickly.

After all- it wasn't his problem.

[Saint]

Rivin heaved the last of the sacks filled with corn onto the pile. It had only taken him the better part of a half hour to unload the goods, and it was nice to see the deed over with. The boy rubbed his hands together to get the dust off and set off towards the Inn to meet his father. The Inn seemed to get even more decrepit and structurally unsound every time he visited the old place. He went to the door and opened it easily, slipping inside relatively quickly as to escape notice. The familiar smells and sights of the Inn overtook him, and a smile found its way to his lips. Eyes searching the confines of the establishment for his father, but it didn’t seem as if the old man was there yet. Rivin's continued to observe his surroundings, his eyes roaming from one side of the building to the other. At last he found an acceptable table, or at least one that wasn't falling apart from use. Walking towards the back of the Inn he took a seat at the table in subject.

One of the bar maids came over and asked him if he wanted a drink, which he declined politely and with a smile. Rivin had never even considered to begin drinking, and he didn't think that it would be all together a good plan either. Drinking had only ever brought him and his family trouble, and a liquid that could cause such havoc wasn't something he wished to take part in. Scanning the crowd he noticed a man that seemed to be new in town. Not that Rivin had been there often enough to discern the regulars, but he seemed to have a rather foreign look about him. The man not only had a shield but also a real weapon, not just any mundane sword but one that looked the part of a hero's sword. Or at least he entertained the idea, still romanticizing about the tales his father often told him as a boy. Still, it wasn't every day that an armed man would come through Dun Madwe, at least not one travelling alone. Perhaps a mercenary that had been hired to defend a caravan, but not just a lone wanderer.

The man had piqued his curiosity, but his observations were cut short as he noticed his father enter the Inn. His father came over to the table with a slight frown on his face, something that always seemed to be the norm as of late. “How was unloading the corn boy?” He said this with a slight smirk, and it was obvious that he was poking fun at his youngest child.

“It was fine father, as always it seemed to go by faster than it should have.” A frown passed over his features as he remembered to ask something. “Have you heard any more about… The issues other villages have been dealing with from the U’Kraune?”

Rivin’s father shared the look with his son, it was obvious that they were related. “Unfortunately yes, several other villages have been hit, leaving few survivors and sadness in their wake.” The man sat up again, seeming to decide to leave as soon as he arrived. “I’m going to go get a room; I think it’s time for me to sleep. You can stay down here and listen to the tales of travelers and do whatever else you find fitting.” With a sly wink and a barely perceptible motion towards one of the bar maids, he took his leave.

Rivin shook his head and took the time to look around the room again. That same man was still there, sipping on some sort of drink. Curiosity killed the cat, but for some reason Rivin felt drawn towards the man. Standing up Rivin began to make his way towards him, so that he might better understand the man’s purpose for being in Dun Medwe.

[hiss the villain]

Ventis marked the boy as soon as he walked in. A rangy lad, still rawboned and fresh-faced. He carried himself well, though, and as he made his way past the warrior he couldn't help but wonder at what would keep a farmer's boy's back so straight. His gauntlet clicked when he set his drink down in the midst of his musing- the sound distracted him, and Ventis dismissed the boy in time to avoid catching him in his surreptitious scrutiny. He turned his attention, rather, to the mug in his hand.

The distressingly empty mug in his hand.

When he raised his hand to signal the barmaid, his cloak slid back off his shoulder. Streamlined steel wrapped his arm like a second skin- but at a closer inspection, each section was made up of a series of interconnected plates. The spaces between the plates were hairline- some arcane force had clearly crafted it. Judging by the advanced age of the steel - it had faded and dulled, became pitted and worn - that force must have been ancient indeed. As he lowered his arm, his hand flexed into a fist- the whole of the armor flexed with it, moving oddly with the muscle that rippled beneath it.

An odd sight indeed.

His second tankard clanked down onto the table next to him. Ventis paused to glance around once, then tucked the drink into the crook of his right arm, laid flat on the table. Staring down into swirling amber depths, the spellbreaker considered his next move. Iselyr was nice and all - real pleasant atmosphere, yeah - but Ventis Victorine was starting to itch for greener pastures. He had heard tell for most of his life about Terrenus, the military and economic superpower. Maybe it was time to catch a ship, see how the grass felt under his boots.

Still musing, he lifted his tankard to take another swing. As he did, he caught sight of the same boy from before- this time, though, he was making a beeline for Ventis himself. There was a brief moment of confusion; the spellbreaker glanced left, then right, then behind him.

Nobody around. It had to be him.

The warrior shrugged, setting down his tankard and kicking out the chair opposite as the boy reached his table. Eyeing the lad critically, he nodded silently towards the empty seat.