The Cave

Kendrik's eyes darted wildly between the others in the cave. He bared his teeth and pulled the rapier away from the stranger's neck, pushing the stranger forward. "There ya go," he said. "Got what I wanted anyways. Now I'm over here, and ya can't do nothing about it." He raised his rapier and pointed it at the former hostage.

Jaron, in the meantime, peered over the edge of the rock just in time to see the arrival of someone wearing a mask in the shape of a fox's head. It seemed to gleam in the bits of moonlight that peeked out from the dissipating clouds, tracing the intricate designs. The figure stood still, watching silently. Feeling his stomach drop, Jaron quickly moved back behind the rock and curled up into a ball.

"I'm going to take a wild guess and assume that maybe we aren't already friends here," he said. His voice had a thick German accent, though his words were understandable. "But I would like to point out that it's dumping buckets out there and the storm is only going to get worse, so unless we want to fight it out and leave the last man standing to get shelter, maybe you might want to learn to share. Just a thought, we can do it the fighting way to," the figure shrugged.

"I prefer not fighting," James added, looking to the new arrival - who was equally strange and suspicious as the others, but spoke reason. "I just want to rest."

"Well then why shed blood, eh?" he spread his arms wide and his tone seemed friendly enough, though the mask was reason enough to be tentative. "Let's just put the weapons away, shall we?"

Kendrik snarled, but set the tip of his rapier against the ground. "If ya stay on that side of the cave, we'll be fine." He pointed the rapier at the half of the cave closest to the storm, which was now rebuilding strength. "Dunno if I can trust a guy with a mask."

"I don't know if I can trust a guy with a drawn rapier," he countered coolly. "And I think weapons are considerably more dangerous than masks, don't you?"

"I'm not using it," Kendrik said. "And I'm not hiding any." He emphasized "hiding". The person with an accent almost as strong as his was dressed in thick, dark clothes; perfect for concealing a weapon. The mask didn't remove Kendrik's suspicions either. It looked like something that would cover a dead person. Kendrik had seen enough of the dead.

"And my mask isn't hurting anyone either, now is it? No more than your rapier there."

"Yep," said Kendrik. "So I won't put down my rapier. Unless ya set down your mask. And weapons, 'cause ya got to have some."

As the hound and the masked man continued their argumentative banter, James slowly inched himself up to the wall of the cave, just a small distance away from the reach of the pounding rain. He wasn't going to expend extra energy posing as a threat.

He leaned his head against the wall of the cave, letting out a deep sigh. Everything hurt.

"Sheathe the rapier first."

"Take off the mask first."

Jaron knew that Kendrik could keep this up for a while. So he'd be stuck here. Waiting. Watching. The fox's muscles felt stiff, and he had the sudden desire to leave his hiding spot.

He crawled out from one side, taking care to avoid the gaze of the man with the creepy mask. That's when Jaron saw the once passed-out man, now slumped up against a wall. Approaching, Jaron sat down beside the man and waved.

He shrugged and pulled the mask off his face, shaking out his hair as the hood part of it comes away. He's got shoulder-length blond hair and icy blue eyes, obviously of Northern descent. The stubble of a beard shadows the lower part of his face. Most would consider him quite handsome despite the long scar that mars his countenance, extending diagonally in a perfect line from his left temple to his jawbone on the right side of his face. "Satisfied?"

James would've let out a sigh of relief that one of them finally started to be agreeable in their stubborn standoff, but his attention was drawn by the fox that had come up to him. It was... quite adorable actually. But he had a feeling that, much like the talking hound, the fox was another talking animal, and probably the hound's companion. With a strained lifting of his hand, he waved back, unable to take on much more of a warm countenance than to try to look less tired.

Kendrik hesitated for a few seconds. The man was handsome and, were it not for the scar, the hound would've thought he'd never been in a fight in his life. Yet that giant scar hinted that the man was a soldier.

Still, Kendrik had made a deal. He sheathed the rapier.

In the meantime, Jaron kept on sitting by the passed-out man. He wasn't sure what to say, but the man looked tired and battered enough that Jaron guessed he didn't have to say anything. Which was a bit of a relief. Jaron pressed his knees against his chest, resting his non-prosthetic hand on the ground. The prosthetic arm hung limply at his side.