Young Writers Society

Plot

In a land where nothing is ever as simple as black and white, the forces of light and shadow face a threat which could mean the destruction of both their worlds. The Sweepers have landed on the planet and they mean to eradicate all evil from its surface.

At first the forces of light rejoiced for the stench of evil had long displeased them and they sent their most wisest and enlightened leader to form alliance with the Sweepers. Except that their leader was imprisoned and two days later the message was returned that he had been exterminated for the past evils of his life.

The Sweepers swallowed cities and their inhabitants. By the second week of the invasion, they held four cities and many villagers and homesteads under their control. The inhabitants were one by one tested and most were eradicated on the spot. Less than one percent were taken back to the Sweeper's ships to be examined more closely and little is known of their fate.

Creatures of the night abandoned their homes and fled to the more rural areas of the continent, finding refuge in the deep forests and swamps of the land. They were joined by many ordinary citizens and even most priests abandoned their churches in favour of their lives. Those who remained behind to pray were mostly slain.

The council of light gathered once more and they agreed that few among them could claim to never have wrought an evil deed but they were still certain the Sweepers would be their salvation. Next they sent a girl child into the midst of the destruction and she was killed on sight for the Sweepers sensed that her potential for destruction was too great.

After this, one of the elders decided that they must fight. There was much disagreement across the council and a split was formed with elder Rhaegan leading his loyal few out into the world and calling to the fleeing citizens that if they stood with him, they would fight the darkness together. This is where our story begins.

The World

Technology is at a minimum with the likes of gunpowder only just moving into common use and electric lighting still a dream not yet achieved. The people are mostly human but a few creatures of the night threaten their existence and so the council of light was formed to combat them - an enlightened sect who transformed themselves by drinking the blood of an angel. What most do not know is that the first of their kind slew that angel to secure this transformation and that is why angels no longer walk the Earth.

The Characters

Please fill out the form below. When you have completed it, I will roll a die and tell you in the DT what your character's inner alliance is. If you are either righteous good or lawful good then the Sweepers will attempt to capture your character. Anything else and they will aim to kill your character as soon as they have been scanned.

The Sweepers carry strange items that shoot beams of light which scorch anything in their path. They are a slow but sturdy race who are humanoid and choose to cloak themselves in dark robes.

The open slots are as follows:

Creatures of the night
1 x werewolf claimed by @Basil
1 x vampire claimed by @Teddybear22
1 x brigand claimed by @QueenAnne
1 x brigand claimed by @Wolfare1
1 x dark knight claimed by @Avalon
1 x thief claimed by @TheWanderingWizard
2 x beggar claimed by @AriaAdams and @TheWanderingWizard

Ordinary citizens
1 x priest claimed by @Lumi
1 x knight claimed by @Auxiira
1 x princess claimed by @pretzelsing
1 x merchant claimed by @Craz
1 x craftsman claimed by @JKHatt
1 x craftsman claimed by @Tuesday

Council of light
1 x elder (in positions of power and know the secret of their beginnings) claimed by @Holofernes
1 x elder claimed by @Rydia
1 x initiate (trained) claimed by @AstralHunter
1 x novice
1 x novice

Alliances - Your outer alliance, the one you choose yourself, is how your character currently feels and acts. However their inner alliance is what they feel inside and they may be fighting this or moving toward it.

1 - Righteous good - They believe they are right and will act regardless of law to follow their beliefs and will harm others if it is for the good of all
2 - Lawful good - They follow the law and believe that the laws are right
3 - Chaotic good - they are kind and have good intentions but believe in freedom and free will
4 - Neutral good - They act mostly for themselves but will help others when it will not endanger themselves or their loved ones
5 - Neutral evil - They act for themselves and when threatened will respond with violence to defend themselves and their own
6 - Chaotic evil - They live to create disorder and will harm any who get in their way
7 - Lawful evil - They have their own set of laws which they will follow by any means necessary but are often honourable in their own way
8 - Righteous evil - They believe that they are right and will do anything to achieve their beliefs

Code: Select all

[b]Name:[/b]
[b]Age:[/b]
[b]Profession:[/b]
[b]Race:[/b]

[b]Outer alliance:[/b]
[b]Inner alliance: [/b]

[b]Appearance:[/b]
[b]Personality:[/b]
[b]Strengths:[/b]
[b]Weaknesses:[/b]
[b]History:[/b]

Elder Rhaegan

One month had passed since he turned away from the Council of Light and forged his own war against the Sweepers. Those who had left with him were few and fragmented: one other elder, an initiate who had shown great potential and two novices whose names he didn't even know.

Others were here now, knights from the village and a scattering of citizens, most with no knowledge of how to hold a weapon, much less use one. It was a start, but how long would it be before they reached their end? Rhaegan had set them to training under the supervision of one of the real knights and he'd sent more messengers out with his word.

We are raising an army to fight the Sweepers. All are welcome to join us.

"A letter has come." Only when he turned away from the fire did Rhaegan realise he had been staring into its flames for too long and he blinked slowly to clear his vision.

"It's from your father."

I have no Father, Rhaegan might have said but he stood up slowly and took the letter from the camp follower. No scribe had come with him from the village so he wrote letters in his own hand and responses came from whichever of his camp followers were quick enough to grab the pigeons. More often than not, the birds were found roasting over an open fire and Rhaegan wondered how many letters went the same way.

"Thank you."

Rhaegan slit the seal with a knife from his belt and stepped close to the fire to read the words. It was a dark night but the words were darker.

"Is... is he sending more supplies?" the messenger asked.

Rhaegan shook his head. What gold and food they would get from the council had already been given and already it was low. He had hoped that some lord might join with them and lend their forces and funds to his own but as of yet, the lords preferred to hide in their castles and pretend the end of the world wasn't nigh.

"My father-" the word left a foul taste in his mouth as it always had. "-sends only his regards and the news that their latest emissary was also annihilated by the Sweepers. He regrets however that they will not be joining us for they still have hope and will send another to treat with these creatures." Rhaegan snorted and crumpled the letter before feeding it to the flames. Better had it not reached him. His father and the other elders of the Council of the Light would send every man, woman and child in their reach and all would go the same way as their most esteemed leader had. They would die.

"Any new arrivals?" Rhaegan asked to take his mind off his darkening thoughts.

"Not tonight, Sir. But some of the men say they have seen eyes watching us from the dark. Wolf eyes, Sir. It's making the men... uneasy."

Rhaegan didn't feel any easier about it but he'd sent the words and if they could fight, he'd take them. The children of the night might be their salvation and he would be theirs. No more hiding. No more running. If thy helped him in this, there would be a new world order.

"I see. Then I will go to the dark, if the dark will not come to me."

"Sir?"

Rheagan adjusted his sword belt and wrapped cloth around a stick before lighting it from the fire. Then, torch in one hand and the other resting on his hilt, he strode toward the dark forest.

Arealas

The wind rushed through the Grandmaster's hair as he sat perched on the highest tower of the settlement in which he was currently recruiting. Dark clouds had started obscuring the moon and the stars, providing the perfect cover for his assignment.

It's nearly time, Arealas thought as yet another blackbird landed next to him, carrying his owner's onyx in its beak. Therin is in position. Now we just need to wait for Jane and her party.

Down below, people were hurrying to their homes or locking up their stores. The streets weren't safe during the evening anymore, and there had been several reports of missing or dead people. That is why Arealas took it upon himself to ensure that this town stays under Shaded Hand's reign, and not some murderer or bandit's.

A sharp pain seared through Arealas' shoulder. He knew this pain was slowly killing him, yet strangely enough the ghost form made the pain disappear, at least until he became human again.

Jane's blackbird landed beside him, also carrying an onyx in its beak. Arealas took both onyxes from the bird and handed them a sardonyx.

"Return to your masters," Arealas said, watching the birds fly off into the increasing darkness, "Now, let us begin."

The world around Arealas seemed to grow silent for a few seconds as the Grandmaster changed. The blackness of the world started turning into a more greyish-dark blue, and Arealas could see distant auroras in the sky.

A feeling of freedom woke in Arealas as he finished changing. He saw a roof top nearby, and jumped from the tower with the ease of one experienced in doing this. He ran across the rooftops, stopping only now and then to listen to the voices down below for any information.

After running for a few minutes, Arealas heard a commotion down below in an dark alleyway. There he saw four mercenaries in black and gold livery harassing an old beggar by the name of Felix.

"C'mon, old man! Give us yer silver, or ye'll find that we won't be tha' nice anymore," one of the brutes said.

"Kalem, leave the old man," one of the more sober guards said, "ye don't want to keep the boss waitin', do ye?"

"To Oblivion with the boss!" the brute named Kalem said, "Wha's he gonna do? Kill'us as well? Ye know he won't Ron"

"Don't make jokes like that! Ye know what he's capable of."

"I want this man's silver first!"

"I do not have anymore silver!" the old man exclaimed, "I used it to buy food at the market earlier!"

"Don't lie to me!" Kalem drew his sword and prepared to thrust down.

Yet he never got the chance. Arealas had jumped onto him, his dirks slicing Kalem's main artery before any other mercenary could respond. The other two guards fell just as quickly, Arealas having slashed out with his dirks at their chests.

The guard named Ron started running out of the alley, but Arealas drew his crossbow and felled him a few yards from the main street. Arealas walked over to him, and found a black key in one of his pockets.

So, Arealas fought, This "boss" is hiring mercs to do his dirty work for him. I believe I should go join my men.

When Arealas reached the temple, he changed back into human form. There he saw Therin stalking another party of mercenaries patrolling the streets. The Grandmaster whistled two shrill notes, which made Therin retreat into the shadows and arrive a few minutes later.

"What did you learn?" Arealas asked.

"I believe I just heard where their so-called "Boss" is residing," Therin whispered, "One of them also, misplaced, this letter."

Arealas took the letter, read it, and tucked it into one of his pockets.

"It seems we're dealing with a group of mercenaries posing to be Sweepers," Arealas said, starting to move through the shadows with Therin following, "You said you know where their base of operations is?"

"Yes, Master. I heard one of them talking about a green waterfall and a natural stone wall, and it reminded me of a place I used to go as a child."

"The Basilisk Cavern," Arealas said, "Yes, I too have heard of it. It's in the forest, if I'm not mistaken?"

"Yep. To the south of town."

Arealas looked up and down one of the larger streets in town before hurrying across. "Let's go find Jane and Lewan, and then we go find this boss of theirs."

* *

They found Jane and Lewan on the roof of a brothel in the shadier parts of town.

"Jane, did you find out anything?" Arealas asked as the named stood to greet them.

"Well, not exactly about the murders," Jane said, "but there was something else I overheard close to the Bloody Weasel. {note that is a tavern}"

"What did you hear that intrigued you?" the Grandmaster asked.

"A courier was proclaiming a bit too loudly that a Elder Rhaegan De'lores is gathering an army against the Sweepers."

Arealas processed this information before speaking. "And where is this 'army' now?"

"A day out into the forest," Jane said, "to the east of town."

"I can see why this would intrigue you, Jane," Arealas looked up and at Jane and Lewan, "That is why I am sending the two of you to be my eyes and ears in this new force until I resolve this situation with the mercenary-murderers. I trust you are well prepared for such a task?"

"Yes, Master," Jane said, looking over at Lewan, "We won't disappoint."

"Good, because I don't like being disappointed. If they ask what you do or to whom your sending letters, say that your artisans and sending letters to your parents back home."

Jane and Lewan bowed before starting to move away.

"I shall expect your blackbird in two days," Arealas said, before turning to Therin, "Shall we go find this mercenary leader then?"

Together, Arealas and Therin descended from the brothel roof and into the forest...

Duncan - Walking Death walks into an Ambush

Duncan sighed miserably in the foggy early morning as he cantered along on his newly acquired horse. He recalled his latest battles, having to kill a farmer after he asked for shelter for the night. The farmer agreed only to try and kill him in his sleep that night he was lucky that he was a light sleeper, had to be to survive as a Dark Knight. Cause you never know what, or who might try to kill you while you sleep. He was also lucky though, with the young farmer dead and no wife or kids he was able to pillage the farm for food and water for his journey and the horse.

Duncan's horse cantered into a clearing Duncan slowly looked around his old eyes scanning the area. It wasn't until a female voice called out.

"Halt, rider!"

Duncan tugged on the reigns the horse slowing to a stop and he tugged on the reigns for the horse to turn and meet the distinct woman who had two more men at her sides. But more appeared around him from the trees he was almost sure as they appeared that there were more in the tree's with bows and arrows ready to fire and kill him.

"Surrender or be killed Knight!"

"On who's authority?" Duncan said as he dismounted his horse and took steps toward the woman.

"The Semper Fidelis!" she roared with pride, "we maintain this area, and if you want to pass without injury, you will surrender."

"Hey boss check this out, this guy is loaded!" one of the bandits said.

The bandit cuts one of the sacks open and spews gold coins onto the ground then a second cuts the second bag open and spills rubies, emeralds, and sapphires onto the ground.

"I warn you, let me pass and I'll let you and your band of thieves live." Duncan said his body tense and ready for a fight.

There was a round of laughter from the bandits.

"I think you should look again" the woman said, "I have enough men to plunder a village, your out-manned and outmatched."

"That maybe true, I am out-manned, but you are all outmatched. I warn you one last time, let me pass and I'll let you live!" Duncan said slowly reaching for his sword.

The woman grew to have a sneer on her face she raised her bow to toward Duncan, "kill him!" she roared.

Duncan drew as the first man approached the man raised his axe and with expert skill Duncan sliced his throat. The man fell back grabbing throat with a free hand and dropping his axe to the ground. Duncan using all his senses to fight off his attackers heard the wiz of an arrow, he quickly blocks the arrow with his shield as he punches a second attacker in the face. The arrow came from the woman and she was already reaching for another from her quiver on her back.

The fighting became almost like a dance, slash, cling of blades, block the arrows with your shield, take the opening and kill the man and move onto the next. Slowly Duncan killed his second and third victim waiting for him.

-Rowan-

They shouldn't have attacked him. Rowan realized that not five minutes after the fight started. The knight was cutting down her men like they were mere boys, not seasoned fighters. Dropping her bow, Rowe drew her pistol, loaded it, and aimed. No matter how careful she was, though, she no longer had a clear shot. Curse Tyndar for suggesting she save gunpowder!

Matters were getting worse. The knight was somehow making their weapons disappear, and it was getting harder and harder to find good quality steel these days. Lowering her bow, Rowan screamed to her bandits to retreat, taking off into the woods towards the trail they had previously decided on- the one that would be hardest to follow them. A breeze stirred in the trees, making them rustle, and Rowan stopped running when she heard voices up ahead.

Tristan was sleeping on a small pile of blankets on the ground, and Rowan almost growled. Where was Kellah, who should have been taking care of him? Gesturing silently for Tyndar to keep the rest away, Rowan slipped forward, into the shadows of a great tree. In the darkness, she was nigh impossible to see. Rowan caught sight of Kellah close to the fire, conversing with someone in a dark hood. The cloaked person handed Kellah a small bag, and she hurried off into the darkness. A need to jump out and protect her son rose in her gut, but it was as if she was rooted to the spot. The person in the cloak drew a dagger, and without hesitating, walked to Tristan.

He jolted awake and yelled, "Mama!" It was as if his voice was the push she needed to get moving. Rowe leapt forward, crashing into the would-be assassin. Taken by surprise, the assassin fell, rolling hard. With a well-placed strike, she knocked the assassin out cold and ran to Tristan.

In the commotion, the Fidelis had slipped into the camp. A hush fell over everyone.

"Get away, all of you." Rowan's voice was barely more than a growl. "GET AWAY!" They dispersed slowly, some laying a hand on her shoulder, offering her some comfort.

Tristan was crying. His little body shook in Rowe's arms as she held him. His threadbare tunic was covered in blood, and his skin was pale. The assassin's knife had plunged into Tris's stomach when Rowan had tackled him. As tears dripped down her cheeks, she lifted her son's shirt and pressed her hands to the wound.

"Please, live." And then Tristan was gasping, gasping for breath, for air, and she knew it was over. She bit her lip to keep from sobbing aloud. Hearing a sound behind her, Rowan whirled around, and locked eyes with the knight from earlier. Letting Tristan's body slump to the ground, she strode over to him, seething.

The moment she came to a stop, she brought her hand up and slapped him across the face. The blood left a print on his face, but she was past caring. "How dare you follow us to our camp, after all that you have done! How dare you show your face to me. Look!" She stepped aside so that the knight could see Tristan's body clearly. "Look at what you have caused! You take our weapons, our lives, and still, you want more! Did you think you would walk into my camp and gut my men? Did you think I would let you leave before I had your head in a trophy case?!" Her voice became a hiss. "Perhaps you think to better the world by killing us. But you do not see- your kind never see. Are we to be content with out lot in life, to be sentenced to working until out backs are hunched and our bones are decaying?" She turned away to hide the tears in her eyes. "You will pay for what you have taken from me. You will pay." With one last glare, she ran into the trees, wanting to be far away before she broke down crying in front of everyone.

Solak Nazaretian

Solak sat in the corner of the tavern, listening to the babble of voices around her. A group of alarmists sat next to her, announcing the end of the world, and declaring that the world should worship the bringers of the end. They seemed to have a particularly artful story of one of their friends walking into the supposed light of the Sweepers and being embraced by the cloaked figure. It was all rather poetic really, even if she didn't believe a word of the tale.

She sipped at her drink, her eyes flitting to the group next to the fire. What they didn't know was that they were charged an extra fee for the warmth of the flames. She had tried to talk to the tavern owner about it, but had recieved a rather depricating reply that put in question the validity of her knighthood. She had retorted with a piqued remark about the quality of his service and they had left it at that. Even if it was the supposed end of days, he didn't want to lose any customers.

Solak stood, dusting off her tunic as she did so. She meandered to the stables, hand on the hilt of her sword. She didn't see many people in these times, even if she wanted to, but she wanted to make sure that Shiloh was safe in his stable before bedding down for the night. He was a good horse and she made sure to treat him well.

The sounds fo a scuffle drew her attentions to a side street. A man with a scarf wrapped around his head seemed to be being accosted by a group of men. She sighed, drawing her sword from the hilt very slightly.

"Good sirs," she called. "I doubt the man has done much to merit this treatment." They stopped, turning to stare at her. The one leaning against the wall sneered at her.

"Move along, lassie. Unless you want to keep us company. Then, by all means, stay." His sneer turned to a leer as she grimaced. She took a step forward, drawing her sword.

"I have no desire to stay in the same town as filth of your likes. Please leave the man be." They stopped sneering as they took in her sword and stance.

"Missy thinks she's something special, does she?"

She rolled her eyes. Truly, the world created some obtuse beings. "Missy thinks she could beat all of you in a fight and then have you arrested." They twitched at that, eying her up and dropping the turbaned man.

The first one lunged at a nod from the one against the wall, but fell almost as soon as her hilt hit the back of his head. The other two, just as hasty, were left with a broken forearm and maybe a dislocated shoulder. She wasn't too sure. The last one looked at his lackeys and seemed to arrive at the conclusion at it wasn't worth the concussion, pushing past her to leave. She waited a few minutes, then sheathed her sword.

Striding over to the man they had been accosting, she extended a hand to help him up. "Are you alright? You shouldn't walk alone if you can't defend yourself."

He gripped her forearm with surprising strength, using her to swiftly push himself up. When he lifted his head, he was grinning.

"Aye, who said anything about not being able to defend myself?" His accent was a mix of everything, and his breath smelled like oranges.

"Clearly it was my mistake, then. I'll call them back for you." She responded with an a smirk.

"Pah." He said, waving her away and moving as if to leave. "My apologies, miss. By all means, call them back. Don't your panties in a twist if I don't grovel in gratitude."

She grinned. "I didn't expect gratitude. Never do. And very technically, it's sir, if you want to stress a title." She shrugged. "I just supposed your mare would be a little upset if you didn't return."

He had his back turned to her, but now he looked at Solak over his shoulder. His eyes glittered, and there was something that struck her - maybe it was the light, the way he stood, the way he smiled like there was a secret only he knew - seemed familiar.

But then he spoke and the vision was ruined. "Again, my apologies. Miss. I'm guessing I should owe you a drink, then?" His smile revealed a missing tooth near his cheek.

"If you really want to. I want to check up on Shiloh first, though." She turned towards the stables. "I would like a drink though. I don't talk to people that often, and you seem interesting." She smiled, humming slightly. "Your call."

She didn't hear his reply, but felt the weight of his gaze on her shoulders. Then, as she neared the stables, she heard a bellowing laugh in the direction that she had walked off. She took as him agreeing and sported a lopsided smile as she scratched Shiloh behind his ear and fed him a handful of oats. He had been her gelding since she had been in training. A fast runner and a good judge of character. Once she was sure he was bedded down properly for the night, she turned back to the tavern.

The man was waiting for her next to the door, slouched against the wall. In between his fingers, he twirled a gold coin, which caught the light of the torch over the door and winked. He didn't seem to notice her. Now that he was out of the shadow of the alley, Solak could see him clearly. He was gangly, with skin that was accostomed to the burn of the sun and a dark slash of hair that was visible when his head stooped low. Scars marked his shoulders and open chest, and every reasonable part of his body glinted with gold jewelry, some of them weighted down with stones. A large colorful feather adorned his ear, along with an array of studs and hoop earrings.

He didn't look much better in character then the men she had scared off.

"Well, I can definitely see why they were trying to rob you." She smirked, her hand resting on the hilt of her sword by habit.

He looked up, surprised. His green eyes darted to where her hand rested, then back to her face. He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Hey, now, I am but a humble merchant."

"I'm sure." Her voice positively dripped with scathing disbelief as she eyed the plethora of accessories draped around his neck. "Do I get a drink, then, or are we just going to talk?"

He shrugged, and his hostile stature dissolved into a loose, easygoing confidence. "I wouldn't be a man to keep a woman from her alcohol, eh?"

He pushed the door open, and the sound of breaking glass greeted their entrance. She tensed, her eyes darting to try and find the source. It wasn't hard. A group of men were leaning over a table, grabbing collars and getting ready to swing fists. Solak watched them for a second then sighed and turned her back on them. She moved to the nearest free table, waving at the serving girl.

The man sat down languidly but improperly. With the other hand slung over the back of the chair, he held up two fingers and said with ease, "Two bottles of firewine. Wait, no." He cast a look Solak's direction, then he turned back to the serving girl. "Firewine and some ale. I still want that bottle, though."

The girl disappeared. Solak looked at the man with some measure of displeasure. Firewine wasn't exactly a casual alcohol. He caught her look and smiled, metals on his body twinkling.

"So, what's your name, miss?" The serving girl returned, placing a large metal cup in front of Solak and a large bottle, partly scorched on one side, in front of the man. With little hesitation and practiced hands he uncorked the bottle and took an impressive swig. Solak caught a whiff. She covered her gagging by sipping her ale.

"Solak." She watched him take another swig and raised an eyebrow. As the ale hit the back of her throat, she pursed her lips. They watered the ale down less than she had expected. "What's yours, before you become so inebriated you can't speak?" She cocked her head at him.

He wiped his mouth with his arm and sighed in contentment. "I think... it was Rohan. Yeah, that's it."

"And you're a merchant?" She eyed his apparel doubtfully. It seemed incredibly fine for a wandering merchant, even one with a lucrative business. And firewine didn't seem a merchant's drink.

"Don't forget the humble part," Rohan said, not noticing her suspicion. "Ah, this is making me hungry."

He reached into some hidden pocket in his pants and pulled out a half eaten orange. He took a large bite, juice running down his chin. He wiped the liquid away with his vest and interchangeably went between his orange and the bottle. Solak had no idea how those flavors mixed.

She eyed him with distaste. "A humble merchant who totes gold on his body like I do steel. That would be a first." She took a gulp from her ale. "Oh, and who takes firewine like simple water." She let her suspicion drip into her voice and writhe in sarcasm.

He paused, the bottle to his lips. "Who'd you say you were, again, miss? You're not one of those people who play at honor and run around takin' care of petty pickpockets, are ya?" He watched her reaction. "What do they call themselves again? Oh yeah, knights."

She paused for a second, her eyes staring at him over the rim of her tankard. He could see an ember of anger smouldering there, but when she set down the mug, she smirked. Pushing back her chair, she leaned over the table. "Who do you take me for?" She growled. Standing up faster than he could follow, he found himself doused in ale as she passed him, her scabbard tapping against her leg in time to her furious steps.

Elder Rhaegan

The dark was not an unfamiliar territory to Rhaegan as it was for most of the elders and children of the light. He had grown up in the dark, on the dirty streets of Granthia and the children of the night had been the blanket he wore when he slept. The dark held no fears for him and walking away from the camp and into the forest was almost like shrugging off a set of restraints.

His stiff back moved into a position that was fluid and ready, halfway to a fighting pose. He relaxed and he looked for the eyes that made his men uneasy, but that wasn't how he felt. Rhaegan almost didn't recognise the emotion, but he was excited. It had been long since he'd talked with one of the children of the night, long since he had good reason to. His father had put a stop to his old friendships not long after reclaiming him, but people couldn't be owned and none knew that better than the children of the night.

"Here comes a light who hopes to shine in the darkness." The voice was low and mocking with more than a hint of a challenge behind it. Rhaegan couldn't see where she was, but he heard where she had been. The barest rustle of branches told him she wasn't there any more, but circling. Moving around him like the noose of a trap.

"There's light enough here already," Rhaegan replied, his tone conversational as if he always slipped out to woods in the depths of night. "Look. There's the moon." Rheagan raised an arm and indicated the pale light which filtered through the sparser branches.

"You dare to mock me?" Rhaegan could hear the growl in her throat and he felt some of that old fear creeping in. Werewolves were fierce when you angered them and they were quick, as quick as him, as strong as him, more on edge than him.

"No, I meant to talk with you and wanted only to point out that this is your territory and not mine. I came to you and I do not bring trouble. I came alone."

"Because you are foolish. I've seen you lightmen, how you think that nothing can touch you, that you are stronger than all who stand in your way."

"All of us?" Rhaegan asked. "Have you seen all of us? I am Rhaegan Lightfoot. Have you seen me?"

That was the name they called him in Granthia, before even he knew what his true heritage was, but he was quick and quiet and he was prettier then. Before he got his scars.

"I see you now," the voice growled but it was somewhat softer.

"And I see you." Rhaegan smiled as his darting eye found her at last and he knew she had only been found because she wanted to be. The men had seen eyes watching from the trees because she wanted them to. "Come with me," Rhaegan said. "We have a common foe, otherwise you would not be here. You are the first of the night children to join us, but you shall have a tent in my own section of the camp."

"I prefer sleeping outside," the werewolf protested as she crept toward him.

"Don't we all."

Serena Oswin

Pushing back the strands of hair that had fallen into her face, Serena smiled at the gent that was currently wanting her attention. Her eyes locked with his and he walked to her. "Are you looking for some comfort?"

The man nodded eagerly, his hands scrunched the hat that he held until it was a wrinkled mess."Yes."

"Then follow me," Serena said, holding out a hand for him to grasp.

She took him to her room upstairs. The brothel wasn't much, but it was all that she had. After her family had been killed and her maker left her, she didn't have a single possession left. She had found that being a prostitute was one profession that could keep her fed and 'somewhat' safe.

After entering the room, she dropped the gent's hand to close and lock the door. When she turned back to face her customer, she was surprised to see him sitting on the bed. He hadn't removed a stitch of clothing, which was odd. Putting on a seductive smile Serena let one hand gently play at her chest. "Now, where were we?"

The distance to the bed was short, she could see that the man had grown fidgety. His hands were now grasping and un-grasping his hat. He swallowed like it was difficult, "Uh, you're a vampire, are you not?"

Serena hadn't tried to hide what she was, but she didn't try to openly tell people either. "Yes, I am...why do you ask?" She had taken a seat on the bed next to the gent, she had made sure not to touch him yet. Yearning was part of the experience as well.

"I was uh...." He looked from her eyes to her mouth to down at the floor. "Wondering if you could bite me." He quickly looked back at her face to see her reaction.

Serena's smile did not waver, "Why would you want that?"

"I have a friend that said I would enjoy it." The eagerness in his voice was starting to come through. Most people thought that a vampire bite hurt, but they were misinformed. A vampire bite was actually one of the most pleasurable experiences that a person could have. There was a special part of the venom that made all pain turn to pleasure in the brain. The few that had survived to tell the tale could only compare it to sex.

"Ah, yes, you would enjoy it." Serena let her gaze wander from his face to his neck. She knew he was growing uncomfortable, but she was enjoying this. She hardly got the chance to watch men squirm for her bite. "But that is only if I choose to bite you."

She hadn't fed yet, but she knew that she could easily find one of her regulars. They frequented the brothel often enough for her services. She pulled her gaze back to the man's face, it was starting to show worry. She only had a few more moments to decide, but she didn't need them.

"Alright, I will feed from you tonight, but you will tell no one of what happens between us this night." She put a little more oomph into it. Vampires were supposed to be dark mysterious creatures, she didn't want to detract from the lore about her race.

The man's face lit up and he titled his head to the side while pulling down his collar to give her access.

Serena chuckled. Tonight may turn out to be a very good night.

Ion Brennan

It was disheartening how few members of the Council of Light had decided to join their resistance movement.

Earlier that month, Ion had been with his mother, enjoying a meal and afterwards, a conversation. But then the summons came. While reading it, his mother had worn a thoughtful expression, in contrast to his countenance of concern. When she finished, he expressed his worry, but she told him it was her duty.

Duty.

Her love for him had made her slightly reluctant to leave - that much Ion knew - but it wasn't enough to prevent her from leaving anyway. He hoped, prayed, that she would return, but he knew she would not.

For a while, he was sad and mourned his mother's death, but then he moved to the next phase: anger. The Council had known her attempt at negotiating with the "Sweepers" (as they were now commonly called) would end as poorly as the rest, but still they sent her, and others thereafter. So, when Elder Rhaegan separated from the Council because he refused to "justify murder with blind hope", Ion joined him.

As it turned out, he was one of the only three who did.

These thoughts whirled around inside his head, leaving him brooding beside his bonfire. When Elder Rheagan emerged from his tent, it came as a pleasant surprise to Ion, since he had not yet had a chance to speak to the man; however, the Elder clearly had other matters on his mind, for he simply strode away. Ion would have dismissed it as insignificant, since the Elder disappeared occasionally, but it was after dark and a messenger had arrived a mere minute before.

For a moment, Ion simply sat there, wondering what to do, but eventually, his curiosity got the better of him. He rushed inside his tent, threw on a black cloak, and exited, circling around to the left and trailing the Elder from a reasonable distance. The various bonfires dispersed throughout the camp cast flickering shadows onto everything, so he needn't fear being spotted.

Once the Elder reached the outskirts of the camp, some of the soldiers and merchants elbowed each other and began talking worriedly, but Elder Rheagan himself was unfazed. It seemed he was at ease in the dark as he was in the light...

Ion circled some distance to his right, making sure not to step on any twigs or leaves, and when the Elder stopped, so did he. The camp was far enough behind them that the fires were but lights shining in the distance, meaning that the rustle of leaves they had both heard was likely an indication of something sinister skulking about.

A low, female voice spoke to the Elder, seeming to taunt him, but Elder Rhaegan replied with composure. The conversation that ensued seemed to be flat, but the snippets of "moon", "territory" and "trouble" allowed Ion to decude the concerned Creature of the Night was in fact a werewolf. He had heard and read of horrific tales of their violence, so he made doubly sure to remain downwind of her at all times.

They continued speaking for a while longer before the werewolf finally showed herself. She did not appear as ferocious as Ion had imagined, and for a second or two, he wondered if they too were, after all, human like the rest of them - at least partly. But then he realised what could happen if he underestimated somebody like her, so he decided upon being cautious of her.

The two were heading back into camp, the werewolf following slightly behind the Elder, when Ion remembered he was spying. Moving silently through the forest cost him some time, but after reaching the camp again, he easily darted back to his tent. He stowed away his cloak and waited for about thirty seconds before the Elder arrived.

"Everyone, meet our newest member," the Elder called from outside. "I expect you to treat her with respect, as you would anyone else."

Ion had meant to feign surprise at seeing the werewolf, but when he exited his tent, his surprise was real. Her body was quite normal, and though she was somewhat attractive, her most prominent feature was that of any wolf - her eyes. They were deep green, almost like jade, and the pupils were large slits. It seemed he was the only one who had actualy moved closer, so her eyes were trained on him.

"Err, greetings," he said, approaching her slowly, but politely. "My name is Ion Brennan."

He meant to extend his hand and began to, but he quickly reconsidered the sensibility of the gesture, earning him a suspicious glare. Not wanting to get off on the wrong foot with a being that could - and if, circumstances were appropriate, would - kill him, he bowed instead. The werewolf's suspicion lessened a little.

"You may call me Teal."

"You must be hungry," Elder Rhaegan told, more than asked, her. "Stay here with... err, Ion, and I shall be back momentarily."

Ion felt a stab of pain at hearing the Elder's hesitation, but he hid it behind a nervous smile.

"So, do we just stand around, or...?"

It took Ion a moment to realise the werewolf - Teal - was speaking to him. "No, of course not. Do you want a tent? I can quickly find one for you-"

"A dark patch of earth will do just fine," she snapped. "If that's not too much trouble."

"There is one over there," he pointed next to the Elder's tent, feeling foolish. "Shall I get you a blanket, or are you fine with the cold?"

The look she gave him could either be expectant or derisive, but Ion had difficulty discerning which. Fortunately, the Elder returned with a bowl of stew and saved him from having to guess.

The three sat down around the fire, and Elder Rhaegan politely waited until after Teal had wolfed down her stew before he began the enquiries.

"So, what convinced you to join our cause?"

Wisp

He stood with his back turned to an abandoned house, observing the bakery across the street. He wasn't quite sure what he thought of the smells coming from it. On one hand, they seemed pleasant enough -- he could feel no weird taste appearing in his throat like he had when he'd passed a garbage disposal a couple of days earlier -- but on the other hand, it was making his stomach, or something close to it, behave strangely. He surely disliked the way it seemed to twirl around under his skin, especially since nothing he tried managed to make it stop.

A woman passing by tossed a coin into his hat on the ground, and pulled him from his thoughts. Observing her -- her appearance was pleasing enough to the eyes, that much even he could tell -- he slid down the wall behind him and sat next to his hat, crossing his legs. Behind her, as if carried towards him by the breeze, lingered the sense of desire for adventure and the forbidden, for an affair more passionate than anything that was waiting for her back home. For a while, as he let those wishes surround him, Wisp entertained himself by thoughts of fulfilling them, getting up and charming her somewhere far from her husband, and disappearing soon enough after.

Then she walked around a corned and he shook his head, reached to take the coin, and observed it with a slight frown.
Money was still a concept he wasn't quite familiar with. He had observed humans enough to be able to tell that they used it to get other things, but past that it was just very odd. It never seemed to stay in anyone's possession, unlike the things bought with it. Wisp had seen a blacksmith sell a shield to some tall knight earlier that very day, but then gave away the money he had gotten for it, so he could afford a tool of some sort, yet once he'd done that he didn't go to find the knight and demand his shield back -- the tool seemed to have the same worth, or the general rule was that the bought thing belongs to the knight, regardless of what might happen to the money he gave for it. Wisp was struggling to wrap his mind around it.

"If you aren't planning on spending that, I could use it."

He looked up at the man who spoke to him, his fingers automatically curling around the coin. "What?"

The man -- older than the woman who had given Wisp the coin, he noticed, and not dressed in nearly as expensive clothes -- gave him a smile and slowly sat down next to him, sighing as he arranged his legs in a position he found comforting. His wishes weren't burning as strong as the woman's; he seemed to have simple desires, dreams of a few silver coins and a safe place to sleep, rather than explosive encounters with mysterious strangers.
"I haven't seen you around before," the man said, and Wisp shrugged.

"I wasn't around before." He saw the man raise an eyebrow, and hoped his explanation would be enough. "I wasn't born here," he added. "I only recently arrived, not quite by choice."

His own words stung, and triggered the memory of those last words of the elders of his kin. Your actions could've harmed us all.

"I figured," the man cut his thoughts once more. "You're in my usual spot."

Confusion -- that was a feeling Wisp could name, and which he got accustomed to experiencing. He felt it as the man said those words, and automatically looked down at the ground he was occupying. It didn't look much different from any other part of the street, but it seemed to be important to the man. With a mental shrug, he pulled himself a few inches to the left, giving the man more than enough space to take his spot if he wanted to.

The man laughed instead. "You really are a foreigner."

"Yes, I just said--"

"My name is Felix." He said and shook his head lightly, offering his hand. Wisp shook it after a moment of consideration, and met the man's quizzing expression as he looked up. "Do I get to hear a name in return?"

"...Oh." He smiled. "Wisp."

Felix's eyebrows raised. "What kind of a name is that?"

He allowed himself a moment to think about it. Names, those of humans, held little meaning to him. His true name, had he been able to pronounce it, would make more sense, both to himself and to the others; the names of angels simply fit their carriers, and everyone could feel that upon hearing them. Back home, he never needed to introduce himself -- no one would ever call him by a wrong name, because there was no way for anyone to not see what his true name was. Yet here, names apparently came with explanations.
"Foreign," he said finally.

They sat next to each other in silence for a while, observing the people go by. Some of them gave them more small silver coins, which remained on the ground between them, and others just ignored them. Wisp listened to their wishes and fears, to their deepest desires and worries, as they passed him, but didn't allow any of them to truly reach of affect him. There were few wishes he was still able to fulfil, those of very simple and material nature that could've usually been fulfilled by the humans themselves just as easily, and hearing all the others made him feel trapped and restless at the same time.

"More of them are willing to part with their coins nowadays," Felix muttered. "With the Sweepers doing their cleaning all around, everyone wants to be good at heart."

Wisp turned to look at him again, noticing the man's glance towards the coins and feeling his longing to take them.
"They're yours," he said, stopping himself before saying he has no use of them. That would certainly ring strange, too strange to be excused by a foreign upbringing. "It's your spot, after all," he added instead.

Felix took the coins and counted them, and, after what seemed like a short battle with himself, returned half of them back on the ground between them, giving them a gentle push towards Wisp. He picked them up, figuring refusing would only raise questions. As much as he could tell, Felix shared no blood with the murdering thieves who called themselves enlightened -- but nonetheless, Wisp knew how human ears and tongues worked, and how quickly odd news traveled. Keeping quiet about who he truly was, now more than ever, was something he could never make a mistake with.

"You need a man by the name of Aeralas," Felix told him after a few minutes. "The King of the Beggars. If anyone can teach you the ways of this life, it's him."

Wisp considered it. Titles of humans were irrelevant -- but if that person had earned one, it probably meant he was in some way important, or in some way powerful. Without a clue of who that king exactly was, Wisp couldn't tell if that power came from a source related to him and his kin or had nothing to do with it -- but getting to know the city and its rules, and blend in with the humans around him, sounded like a good enough start. He nodded once.
"How do I find him, then?"

"You ask the right people," Felix said mysteriously. "Or, more likely, he finds you." He got up, and Wisp mirrored his action, but the man shook his head. "Unless you want to come to the market with me and spend that silver from your hat, we part our ways here for now. I can't take you to him. You're on your own as far as that goes."
*

Wisp stayed behind as the human walked away, deciding he had nothing to do at the market. He hadn't bought anything yet -- although he had left a few silver coins in some person's garden after taking their clothes from the basket they were collected in -- and he couldn't see the point in doing so.
So, instead, he put the money in an inner pocket of his vest and put his hat back on his head, and walked the opposite way of the one Felix left in. He could've as well tried finding the right people, whatever exactly that might've meant. Alternatively, he decided as he turned a corner and reached the edge of a forest, he'd just walk around and hope that the king would find him, as Felix had said he was able to.

He approached a tree to observe a bug lazying on its bark, and that was when he felt them.

On the other side of the forest, or somewhere within it, angels' blood ran through humans' veins, making Wisp's own feel like fire. Without a warning, the mark on his hand felt freezing, burning with the kind of coldness he didn't think was possible. He clenched his teeth not to scream, staggering into the tree and clasping his right hand with his left. The mark didn't look different in any way, but he was well aware of what just happened. Its binding was usually unnoticeable -- there, present and reminding him of what he did and what was done to him, but never more than that -- yet now, unintentionally and at the tug of anger that still drove him against the enlightened humans, he had to have reached for his magic, his own desires overriding his common sense.
Well, he thought grimly, as the pain faded and he could breathe again, at least now I know I won't be trying that ever again.

He pushed himself from the tree and frowned at the forest. Somewhere in there, there were people responsible for everything. Somewhere in there, if he could find a way to overpower and kill them, maybe awaited his way home.

Without another thought, he strode in their direction.

Arealas Nostra

Arealas and Therin followed a pig run through the groping undergrowth of the southeastern forest. The darkness that had painted the night black was punctured by the occasional light posse of fireflies, blinking rhythmically at the two thieves.
"How far until we reach the Basilisk Caverns?" Arealas asked, eyes darting from side to side occasionally.
"Not much longer," Therin said, "If my mind's not deceiving me, it's about half an hour onward still."
"Keep your ears and eyes open. We don't know how close these mercs are."
The two thieves continued in silence for a few more minutes, before the sound of someone stumbling through the undergrowth made them hide, slowly drawing their weapons.
Arealas nodded his head in the direction of the commotion, and the two of them stealthily crept forward.
Suddenly, breaking through the bushes, was a rugged looking man, very similar in appearance to a beggar. By the looks of it, this man hadn't noticed either Therin or Arealas, and was making his way blindly through the forest.
When he got within a few feet of Arealas, the Grand Master shot forward, spinning the man around, dirk against his throat.
"Who're you?" the Grand Master asked as Therin also rose and stood beside him.
"Let me go, for I am not the one you seek," the man responded.
"I'll ask again: Who are you?" Arealas ignored the man's statement.
"I'm... Wisp," the man said after a few seconds.
"A unique name, I'll grant you that. How do you know whom we seek?"
"I... I, just do. I have a knack for this sort of thing."
"Are you a hermit, then? Or a drunkard?" Arealas asked, pressing the dirk slightly harder against Wisp's neck.
"I am a beggar," Wisp replied, adjusting his posture.
Arealas looked at Therin, who shook his head almost immediately.
"I have never seen you on my streets before," the Grand Master said.
"Your streets?" Wisp sounded slightly perplexed.
"Yes, my streets. I am Arealas Nostra, King of the Beggars."
Wisp was silent for a while, before speaking. "Felix told me you'd find me."
"Is that so?" Arealas released Wisp, who stumbled forward, "And how do you know Felix?"
"We shared a begging spot earlier today."
"And why are you out here, in the forest?" Arealas asked, sheathing his blades.
"I have my reasons," Wisp responded.
"Well then, if you don't wanna to reveal your reasons, then I'll advise you to return to the town."
With that, the Grand Master and Therin started continuing towards the Caverns.
"Wait!" Wisp called, sending several fireflies spluttering away, "I can accompany you."
Arealas turned around, and Therin whispered in his ear. "I don't like this one."
"What harm can it do?" Arealas whispered back, "If he dies, then we need not worry about him anymore. If he survives, well, then he might be useful."
Looking at Wisp, Arealas spoke loudly. "Very well," he said, "but keep up, stay silent, and don't die."
Wisp nodded before joining the two thieves as they went deeper into the forest...

*

They had progressed for five or so minutes, when the flickering light of a campfire and hushed voices drew Therin's attention.
"They're just through this tree line," he said, pointing at the light.
"Do you think they're mercenaries?" Arealas asked.
Therin shook his head. "Too far to say for certain," he said, "but we're not close to the Caverns yet, why would they be camping here?"
"They aren't mercenaries," Wisp commented, making Arealas suddenly remember of his presence. The beggar had been silent until now.
"How can you tell? We can't even hear what they're saying," Arealas said.
"Like I said. I have a knack for this type of thing."
The Grand Master shared a doubtful look with Therin before deciding.
"Well, they still put us at risk of being exposed," he said, "so they need to be silenced."
The three of them silently proceeded closer to the group. The smell of boar stew filled their lungs, and silent words started echoing in their heads.
"Are you sure... Naturally we get sent on this mission... My father is displeased by this intruder in his territory..."
Arealas made a signal to Therin, who crept off to the opposite side of the small camp of eight bandits, one of which was a girl. Three of them (including the girl) were still awake and around the small fire with a stew pot cooking on one side, while the others were sleeping on bedrolls.
"They will not kill us," Wisp whispered.
"I cannot take any chances,"Arealas said, before closing his eyes and changing into his ghostly form.
I always tie up loose ends, he thought, before entering them small camp and accordingly putting out the fire, plunging them all into darkness..

Princess Imara

Hushed whispers echoed the empty palace halls. Ssssswepers. The guards and residents trembled in fright over the spoken sound of the unholy word. They had all witnessed what Sweepers could do to their children, to them, and it wasn't a pleasant sight. They don’t wish to repeat it.

Peck.Peck.Peck.

The sound of a bird’s beak resided on Imara’s window pane. It flew in as soon as she cracked open the window.Tied with a ribbon to it’s talon was a note, stained with octopus ink writing. Gracefully dropping into her lap, the pigeon then promptly flew away,wherever he intended to go. Imara cautiously opened the note with great anticipation,and ironed out the creased edges.It read as follows:

Dear Princess Imara,
It’s time to leave you castle, urgently, as the Sweepers are very near your place of residence. Come and camp with me, in the woods,where we used to camp as little tots. Ice will lead you,just follow the narrow path to safety. Let us fight together,united against a common foe. Leave immediately.
~Rheagan the Elder

Imara gasped and her hand flew to cover her mouth and prevent her from making any sound. She didn’t want to alarm anyone else,even though alarm bells were going off inside her head quite loudly. She hadn’t heard from Rheagan in forever,decades at most, but she thought about him often. Now he was an Elder,as it seemed from his shakily rushed signature. He was in trouble, and she needed to help him defeat their common enemy,and prove herself worthy of being an ally.Ringing a bell outside her room, a bedraggled maid rushed in and looked at the Princess expentandly.

“I want you to pack of all my necessities and most important things into a bag immediately.”

The most important thing to me, its my dear animal Ice, my husky dog, whom I got many years ago. She has been my faithful companion all of these years, and she will lead me to the place.

Ice shifted her position and nodded her head,as if she almost understand the grave danger and adventure that they were about to face.

The servant just nodded and did a slight half of a curtsy. Imara just mentally shook her head, the less information she gave out to the commoners, the better for her and Ice’s cover. After a lengthy bit of time for rummaging through the unorganized dresser and vanity,the servants head popped out of the mess and showed Imara the bag with her belongings. She tested it to make sure it was lightweight and easy to carry. It was good enough.
Then the dear Princess shut the wooden doors of her palace with Ice by her right side, and never looked back again.
__________________________________________________________________________

Traveling under the cover of the night was much easier,because noone’s eyes could sense your presence. And,that was how Imara felt inside,dark,just like the atmosphere,blackness hiding in every inch of her soul. The only visible light was the full moon, which Ice was following it’s glow. Careful to step over all of the protruding tree roots, Imara followed the path that Ice had carved for her.Imposing trees hovered over here, almost like if they were lobserving her. Her legs were getting heavier and heavier with each step she took, and she stopped to rest on a moss-covered rock. Propping her feet up and leaning her head back to relax her neck muscles, she heard a child of the night howling nearby. Ice’s back stood straight and stiff,ready to pounce,her ears ready and her stance alert. She caught a whiff of the wolf’s scent.

“It’s okay girl,” she patted Ice’s back and rubbed her fur.Ice immediatley calmed down and sat back down ,on the muddy forest floor.She wasn’t afraid of wolves,rather,she was very fascianted with them.They were free,free from the confining walls of a palace,free from the expectations of parents,from everything.

"Wherever there is a werewolf,Rheagan must be near” her lips curled into a brief smile at the thought.She was almost there.Getting to her feet,she continued her journey towards the camp.

Rhaegan

“Who said I was joining?” The wolf bared her teeth but it wasn't a gesture of anger, if anything it was gentle. Teal was giving them fair warning that she would not be easily cowled. Rhaegan understood, he understood her much better than anyone he'd met in a long time. The men he dealt with these days made excuses or hid behind their big words, but people like Teal told you how it was straight up.

“I had a vision,” Rhaegan said quietly. The initiate's dark eyes locked on to him immediately and for a moment the boy's gaze was fierce, before he realised who he was staring at. Ion coloured slightly and looked away, into the fire where the flames cried out for more things to burn.

“In my vision, there were wolves and they came to me, but only after I went to them.” Nothing about visions was ever certain and Rhaegan could only tell it how he felt it had been, but now he thought he understood. He'd thought he understood it when he sent that letter to Imara and told her to bring Ice, but there was more to it than that. “There were a whole lot of wolves, but some of them weren't wolves.”

“Let me guess,” Teal drawled. “They were all werewolves and we're all going to come and fight your battle for you because you saw it in a vision.”

“No.” Rhaegan smiled, but it wasn't a nice smile or a happy one. “Some of them were men and they led the wolves.”

Teal snorted and shook her head in disgust. “And you think this will convince me to fight with you?” she asked. “I'd as soon take my chances against them on my own.”

Rhaegan nodded and ran a thumb over the hilt of his dagger thoughtfully. “You'll stay,” he said. “I don't know why yet, but you will. If you'll excuse me now, I think I'll take a stroll before I sleep.”

The wolf shrugged and settled down on her patch of earth, not going anywhere for the moment at least. The bird on the other hand – the other initiates had called him Raven and that stayed more readily in his mind than Ion, which still seemed to sit unsteadily on his tongue. The bird got up and his eyes flickered around the camp, as if searching for something. Rhaegan had seen that kind of searching before, though on the streets, not around a fire with friends. Or acquaintances with common enemies at least.

“What did the vision mean?” Ion asked.

“It meant she'll join us,” Rhaegan replied. “And others. Perhaps her pack or some other with their territory nearby.”

The two children of the light strolled in silence for a moment as they passed the camp followers who were starting to turn in for the night. Most had slipped inside their tents already, but a few curious eyes peered out from around camp fires.

“You've gotta use yak's bone for a shield,” a tall, dark haired man was saying to another whose hair was almost as dark and who stood even taller, his hands spread against the fire between them.

“Too heavy,” the other man disagreed, his golden eyes flashing in the dark. “You want something light with lots of movement.”

“If it's light, the other man will cut through it,” the first man argued.

“If it's heavy, the other man will cut through you.”

The talk looked close to coming to blows with neither craftsman backing down about their superior knowledge and Rhaegan let out a light sigh. He would have to intervene. It was the part of leading he liked the least and he was stepping closer to the men when a piercing howl ripped through the night.

Teal.

Rhaegan's first thought was that some fool had tried to attack the girl and now they'd all be turning on her and the delicate balance he had hoped to foster would snap like a twig. “With me, Ion!” Rhaegan barked before setting off back through the camp at a run.

“What was that?” One of the craftsmen asked. He'd taken up a shield – probably made out of yak's bone – and came hurrying alongside Rhaegan. The other craftsman grumbled something but Rhaegan didn't hear.

“An uneasy crowd was gathering but when Rhaegan reached Teal, there were few people paying any attention to her. Their eyes were turned outward, toward the trees at the edge of the camp.

“That wasn't you?” Rhaegan asked.

Teal shook her head. “Perhaps it's your wolves. The ones you're so keen to lead,” she suggested. There was a wryness to her tone, but her stance was tense, as if she expected the wolf in the woods might just as easily be there for her.

Then a shape did step out of the woods, a tall female wolf with white fur and piercing blue eyes. Behind her walked a girl and Rhaegan didn't need his sharp eyesight to know who it was. He'd remember that way of moving anywhere.

“Imara,” Rhaegan called as he walked out to meet her. “Was that you?” He looked down at Ice but doubted the she wolf had made the call. Surely he'd have recognised the tone if it was Ice.

“Not us,” Imara replied. Her eyes turned back to the woods and then she looked at him. “But you always had a way with werewolves.”

Rhaegan grunted and almost touched the scar over his eye. If only he'd been better with people and then maybe he wouldn't have the scars he had. “Some wolves are easier than others. Some men as well. Come, warm yourself by our fire, it's been a long time.”

Serena Oswin

Retracting her fangs, Serena pulled away from the neck of her donor. "You taste different tonight." She ran her index finger along her bottom lip to catch all the excess blood and licked her finger clean.

Mistral gave a slight chuckle, "Different good or different bad?"

She tilted her head to the side, trying to make up her mind. "Good, I think. I'm trying to place the taste."

"I thought you might like it, it's-"He never got to finish his sentence. The door was kicked in from the outside.

Serena turned to see a figure in a black robe standing in the doorway. Serena sensed that this wasn't a Sweeper, if it had been, both she and Mistral would both be dead. Jumping from the bed, Serena ran toward the figure. Having vampire speed, Serena was behind the figure in just a second. She had her hands around the figure's neck and twisted in even less. The lifeless corpse collapsed to the floor.

Looking at Mistral, Serena saw that his eyes had grown huge with fear. "No time to become afraid of me now. We need to leave."

Mistral pulled his shirt back on and made his way past Serena. Looking over the rails, she saw that everyone in the brothel was dead. Bodies lay strewn about the main room, her friends tossed across tables and the floor. No, this wasn't supposed to happen. Anger gripped her, she has promised them safety in return for allowing her to work there.

She allowed herself to stand still and listen. The faintest of sounds caught her attention. She opened her eyes just in time to see another black robed figure attack Mistral on the stairs. "No!" She rushed to help, but the attacker was already heading for the door.

Falling to her knees next to Mistral, Serena placed her hands on either side of his face. She watched the life fade from his eyes. "No, no, no, no. Not you. Anyone but you."

The sting of tears made its way to her eyes. If it had been anyone but Mistral, she could have let it go, but he had grown on her. He had been a donor for the past five years, and she had grown to like him. He was the only consistent donor that she had had, he was like a close friend to her.

She would avenge his death, it was the only thing she could do. Catching the robed figure's scent, Serena started to run. She would follow the scent as long as she could.

Teal

My heart rate speeds up. The white dog turns to look at me, her blue eyes wide with curiosity. The woman standing beside her talks to Rhaegan, and my gaze keeps shooting from him to the dog. I’ve never been good around other canines, and dogs tend to annoy me. This one, big and pure white, sets me on edge. My wolf raises her hackles, but I keep a blank face on.
The man with the flitting eyes comes into my line of vision, and I risk talking to him. He seems to be something like Rhaegan’s right hand man, so I’ll probably have to deal with him … often. Might as well suss him out now. I turn to him and take one step and suddenly he tenses and watches me from the corner of his eye. I don’t know whether to be a little mad or smug at that reaction. What’s the bet he was spoon-fed horrific stories about werewolves devouring babies, or stealing little girls and killing entire villages. Going through and wiping out flocks of sheep and damning all paths we cross. Pa! We might be Children of the Dark, but we’re not psychos! I mean … who would want to eat a human? Yuck!
“What’s going on?” I ask Ion when I come to stand beside him. That damn dog has watched me the whole time too!
“I’m not too sure,” he says a little shakily.
I huff. “Well then, who’s she?” I snap.
“Princess Imara,” Ion frowns. “I don’t know what she’s doing all the way out here though.”
“It looks like those two are good friends,” I give him a sideways stare. “He probably sent for her.”
Ion tenses a little, his eyebrows drawing together. He looks at me for a moment, probably angry I’m trying to insult him. “Well obviously … but why?” He quickly looks away when my eyes narrow at him.
My thoughts whirl for a moment with all the possibilities. “Let’s go ask him,” I finally say.
“What? No, you have to wait!” Ion tries to sway me.
I sneer at him. “Come on puddy tat, what’s stopping you?” I tease.
Ion tries to stare me down. “I just don’t want to disturb them. I’d rather stay here and not interfere,” he says as firmly as he can.
“Well done,” I clap my hands twice, “for the rhyme and for not giving into peer pressure.”
Ion is left blinking at me as I lope over to Rhaegan and the princess.
“Hello all,” I jump into a pause with.
“Ah,” the princess smiles at me, her dainty voice quiet. Her smell is tainted by darkness. It’s hard to tell if she’s one of me, or one of them. “You must be the werewolf.”
“That I am,” I glance at the dog still gazing at me. “What brings you to this fine clearing on this lovely, dark night?”
“I sent a letter to Princess I –“
“I wasn’t asking you,” I snap at Rhaegan. I look at the princess and wait for her to answer.
“As Rhaegan was saying, he sent me a letter to let me know that some Sweepers were nearing my castle, so I came here. We’re old friends, and it’s nice to catch up after all these years,” Princess Imara smiles at Rhaegan.
“Alright,” I shrug. I bound back over to Ion and smirk at him. “They’re old friends catching up after Rhaegan saved her butt,” I tell him.
I can tell Ion doesn’t know what to make of me as he stares at me with a blank, if slightly confused, expression on his face. I bet his confusion would leave as soon as my wolf showed, though.