Life's Journey (The_Gladiator & darkangel76)

Rhonwhyn tossed and turned in her lumpy bed—so different from what she was used to back at the Trine Temple of Gomgoroth—desperately trying to get a restful night's sleep... for once. But it was of no use. Not once since leaving the temple had she managed to sleep well. She supposed part of that was due to the excitement of embarking on her long anticipated pilgrimage while another part, a larger part, was due to all the fears she harbored inside. To say she was frightened to be outside the safety of the walls of her keep was an understatement. Terrified was a better word. As she sat up in the darkened room, she pushed her platinum hair out of her face, her pale eyes straining in the dim light to find the door across the way.

Just then, a shiver ran along Rhonwhyn's spine. Her body shuddering, she brought her hands up and ran them along her arms as if trying to warm herself. But it was of no use. She couldn't get rid of the goose bumps forming on her alabaster flesh, stark against the darkness of the room. Looking back over at the door, she knew that Torth stood on the other side guarding where she slept. The man had volunteered to accompany her on this potentially perilous journey of self-realization and discovery as she traveled the many towns of the kingdom of Ersheath.

Belbarren, the tiny town Rhonwhyn found herself in at the moment was nestled deeply within the woods, almost isolated from the hustle and bustle of civilized life. She supposed there was some charm to such a life—the peace, the solitude and quiet. But, she couldn't help but feel the hairs on the back of her neck rise as jolts of adrenaline coursed throughout her body as she'd traversed through the main roads of the town, with Torth by her side, as they'd sought to find shelter for the duration of their stay. The people had looked at them both, their eyes lingering a bit longer than she'd have liked. She recalled how she'd reached for Torth's hand for reassurance, but the man had brushed her aside, bringing his hand to his hip and settling it upon the handle of his sword resting there.

A part of Rhonwhyn felt hurt by Torth's gesture. But he'd alleviated that by pulling her close, understanding her need for touch and reassurance that he was there for her no matter what. She'd appreciated the bold and blatant act, something that would speak volumes to those watching them as they moved through the crowd of onlookers. Smiling, she'd looked up at him, her expression one of gratitude.

Sitting in her bed, Rhonwhyn, pushed her blankets off her tiny body and swung her legs over the side and let them dangle for a moment. The filmy blue material of her gown flowed over her curves like a gentle waterfall, hugging and flattering, accentuating every feature that was her. Finally, she slid off the bed and stood barefoot on the wooden floor. Shivering, she quietly padded toward the door and placed her hand on the handle. Slowly, she opened the door and peeked outside. Arching a brow, she felt her breath catch in her throat as her heart skipped a beat.

Torth was gone. He wasn't there. He'd left his post without warning.

Swallowing hard, Rhonwhyn felt her mouth suddenly go as dry as a desert. Licking her lips in vain, she wondered where he might have gone without informing her first and foremost. But nothing came to mind. That, in turn, made her worry. Troubled, she slipped further out into the hallway. Everything seemed so dark, so quiet. As she peered up the one way toward where she knew the stairs were she suddenly went stock-still.

Just then, a large hand moved over Rhonwhyn's mouth while another came around her body, pulling her close toward something hard—clearly the one standing behind her. "Don't move or even try to scream, milady, or I'll slit your throat." She could feel his breath against her ear, her cheek as he spoke and then the sound of him sniffing as he took in her scent. "Mmm, like lavender. Tell me, priestess, just how worldly are you?"

Rhonwhyn could feel her entire body shaking as she quaked in the grasp of her captor. She dared not speak, but she twisted her head slightly so as to look into the eyes of the one holding onto her body. Already tears were flowing as her heart pounded hard beneath her breast. She just hoped Torth was all right, that he hadn't been hurt.

Meanwhile, in another room off the hallway, Torth received a small purse of gold. He smiled as it was placed in his greedy hands. "She'll satisfy, I'm sure," he replied coolly. "Clean and perfect for what you'll want of her. You couldn't ask for anything more pure. The likes of her don't come often or cheap." He nodded at the man, his smile broadening as he clutched his gold, making it jingle as he held onto it.

Back outside in the hall, Rhonwhyn just wished she would faint, that somehow she could wake up from this nightmare and be back in her bed in Gomgoroth. But, that wasn't going to happen and now she had no idea what fate had in store for her, what her goddess, Brigantia, had in store for her...

"Now, you come with me and you're real education in life and the world can begin," the man said to Rhonwhyn, his hands grabbing at her body and hair as he began to drag her away down the hall and away from where Torth received his gold.

In life there are two sides to every coin, summer and winter, light and dark, black and white. Some philosophers might say that such balance is necessary. Others sought to skew the balance in one direction or the other. For most citizens of Ersheath, what they came in contact with on a daily basis was the light, the kinder side of humanity. They saw the good people such as the kings and his royal knights. They heard stories of the beautiful priestesses of the order of trine. However life always sought balance, and to balance the scales of life in the kingdoms of ersheath were the thieves guilds.

There were thieves’ guilds or outposts of such in almost every major city. The two largest were in gomgoroth the capital itself, and the second largest was in belbarren major. In the small town of belbarren minor, wherein our story begins there was an outpost of the despurden thieves’ guild. Loosely translated from the dark elf tongue with which the guild masters had drawn its name, Despurden meant “Victors of the darkness.” Whether the despurden guild, based out of Belbarren major, had a connection with those illusive and wicked drow elves was anyone’s guess.

After having found a room in a small inn for the lady Rhonwhyn to sleep, Torth had left his post at her door. Ostensibly he was going to get a glass of wine from the common room, or at least that’s what he wanted people to think. In actuality he had seen something on their walk through the town, he had seen signs, and been approached by what seemed to be a beggar. He had shoved the man away from the lady Rhonwhyn all the while accepting a piece of paper from the beggar out of view of his charge.

In a stolen moment when the lady Rhonwhyn had stopped to buy a fresh baked loaf of bread, he had unfolded the piece of paper with trembling fingers. It held only two things, a time of night, and a place, the common room of a particular inn he knew well from his previous trips throughout the kingdom. The thieves’ guild had business with him, and he suspected what the despurden’s wanted with him.

The trafficking in slaves was not uncommon in the land of ersheath, although it was done in private, in the dark, far far from the eyes of the king and his pesky ever nosey knights. Most of the slaves taken were women, and beautiful women at that. Women trained in the arts of sex were also prized, and even more so women who were thusly trained but did not look like the washed up whores they were. A woman, who embodied all of these criteria, was very very rare. Torth knew all these things, and knew therefore what the despurden guild probably wanted with him. A slow smile had split his lips, it only came down to how much would it be worth to them? Women like the Lady Rhonwhyn were very very rare. He knew well that the priestesses of Trine were trained in the art of pleasing a man, for was not one of the roles of a woman to be a lover in the eyes of the goddess? Yet, the lady Rhonwhyn also looked pure and beautiful, she had not spent years on her back pleasing men for money in a brothel, as one might expect a women with the priestess of Trine’s love making ability to have done. Torth had to fight back a chuckle at the thought of where this spoiled noble woman would end up. It turned out that she would spend her days on her back, or her hands and knees, or just on her knees, after all.

All this and more flitted through Torth’s head hours later after he had met with the cloaked and hooded emissary from the guild, and then later had accepted his payment. Now he was free of her spoiled ass, and off for the open road on his own. What would he tell the temple when he returned there? Should this one be eaten by sea monsters? Killed by bandits on the road, he would have to come up with a good excuse why yet another charge had died on his watch. Lost in his inner thoughts he did not see the figure that stepped out in front of him as he stepped into the alleyway behind the inn. The figure was all in black, which matched the raven locks of hair he kept, cut short. Revealing the delicate points of his ears. There was only one such elf in the area, a half-elf to be exact. His suspicions were confirmed as his eyes flicked to meet the cold gray eyes of the man before him. They were cold eyes, dead eyes, eyes that showed no emotions. They were eyes in which Torth saw his death. He croaked one word, a name, “Brandon.”

In his head he filled in the details that he could not manage to voice, Brandon the black hearted he was known as. Although it was rumored that his given name was Taurean, and that he perhaps had a secret elvish name that no one knew. Not accepted in the human kingdom of Ersheath, nor the elves of kierielle, Brandon had found a home in the underworld.

In those last seconds of his life, Torth wondered how he had warranted being killed by one of the most notorious assassins and bounty hunters in the entire kingdom. Something more was going on here than he had thought, and in those last seconds he knew that he had gotten himself in way over his head.

Taurean left the filth behind in the darkened depths of the street running behind the inn. Sliding his dagger back into his belt, the half elf let his eyes sweep over the surrounding buildings waiting watching. This job was only half finished. Killing the worm hadn’t really been part of the job he had set himself, but it had been satisfying, filthy slime deserved to die. No the real mission was still ahead of him, for he knew Grennen would be emerging from the inn soon with the lady. His fingertips lovingly stroked the handle of his dagger, its smooth surface more familiar to him than the flesh of any lover. The irony was not lost on him that he was hunting individuals that most would expect to be his allies. His lip curled with disgust, these idiots were filth, he allied himself with them usually yes, but all knew befriending him was like sleeping with a viper, it was only a matter of time before you got bitten. Taurean took contracts from the highest bidder, and if that meant one day he killed his former employer, so be it, it was all the same to him, money. Everyone’s head had its price. That being said, he particularly relished this job. There were lines even the heartless vigilante wouldn’t cross, and Taurean did not deal in the torture or enslavement of women.

His gray eyes constantly scanned the surrounding cityscape waiting for his quarry to appear. He knew he probably could not kill Grennen right away, the half ogre would not be easy to kill, and Taurean did not want a fight on the open streets either. He would watch and follow. He would take the brute on the open road, in the trees, which were much more the half-elf’s element than the lumbering giant of a half-ogre Grennen. Taurean could only hope that the despurden enforcer did not have a group of companions waiting for him, that would only complicate the situation.

The man grabbed and pulled, his rough hands hardly gentle as he dragged Rhonwhyn through the nearly silent halls of the inn in which she and Torth had been staying. And Torth... by all that was Brigantia... She hoped he was all right, that harm hadn't befallen him like it seemed to have befallen her. The fates seemed to be mocking her this dark and inky night as they weaved a web full of frightful, yet all too real nightmares. She could almost hear their maniacal laughter as they created intricate patterns of a shadowed and darkened destiny that was hardly welcome as far as she was concerned.

Oh Torth... just where was he? Where?

"This way," the man whispered harshly against Rhonwhyn's ear, his nose brushing against her as he spoke.

Without even realizing it, Rhonwhyn had crinkled her nose as she winced beneath his hand as he continued to cover her mouth. His breath was putrid, rank with the smell of alcohol and meat. The very odor made her want to retch where she stood, the bile rising as he pulled her along without a care. But all too soon, she could see the doorway leading toward the outside. Still... no sign of Torth, her guardian, the one man she'd hoped could help her in this time of fear and terror.

But he was nowhere to be found...

"Keep going, bitch!" the man hissed, his grip tightening as he pushed Rhonwhyn forward.

For the first time, Rhonwhyn let out a tiny whimper, her eyes welling with tears as her feet moved of their own accord. Surely there would be bruises from this assault, marks to remind her for days on end of this night she was whisked away from her life. Just then, her heart began to sink, realization striking hard. Torth wasn't coming. Something was wrong. Something... At that, the man flung open the door and shoved her outside, his hand still holding her arm tightly.

"Scream and I cut you. Run away and it's death," the man stated, his voice cool confidence as he spoke, his dark eyes glinting as he watched his captor look upon him with both worry and fright—no doubt the fright was partially due to his shocking appearance. "There, there, beauty," he added, a hand coming up to stroke Rhonwhyn's pale cheek before touching the platinum curls that hung about her slender shoulders. "You're a rare gem, a worthy piece to be had. And had you'll be." He smirked at her, his rough hands moving back to her face as they ran along her neck, down her shoulders, tracing the contours of her collar-bone. "In fact, you'll be had by all. Rumor has it that the Sisters Trine are trained."

Rhonwhyn instantly felt the blood rush from her face. Immediately, her breaths came harder, her heart pounding so hard she thought she'd faint. "Sir, I'm not sure of these rumors, but..."

Suddenly, the man struck Rhonwhyn across the face causing her to fall. He glanced about, unsure if his men had gathered or not. As he looked down upon his captor, he couldn't help but lick his lips. She looked so lovely as she looked up at him with those glistening pale eyes, rimmed red with tears as she began to weep at her situation. Yes, it was finally sinking in. Truth was brutal.

"Next time, I won't be as gentle!" the man nearly shouted, his voice a hoarse and husky whisper.

Rhonwhyn could see the bulge growing in his pants as he looked down upon her and she swallowed hard. Scrambling backwards, her hands clutched at her blue gown, the material seeming so thin a barrier now that she was seemingly alone and in the dark with this horrid brute.

Oh Torth... Torth...

Fresh tears began to fall and Rhonwhyn shook her head. But the man just smirked. He then reached down and grabbed her by the wrist, forcing her to get up. "We're leaving Belbarren," he stated not even trying to hide his arousal. "My men will meet us on the road. It's then that your first taste of true education will begin."

At that, the man began dragging Rhonwhyn through the darker streets of town until they finally reached the outskirts. Oh how cruel life truly was, how evil fate could be! Before it had even begun, her life was finished and she'd be forever ruined. Death would be sweeter now... yes... death.

The morbid thoughts continued to swirl through Rhonwhyn's mind as the tears continued to fall. Fortunately, the dark hid the streaks the tears left in their wake, but it did nothing to hide the fear dwelling in her heart.

There was no moon on this night, nothing to break up the unrelenting blackness. Although to some, the darkness was welcome. Some, like Taurean welcomed the darkness.

Keen gray eyes watched the door to the inn open and two figures emerged. They were both instantly recognizable to the half-elf’s infrovision, the heat seeking sight of the elves. The first was recognizable, all be it not known personally by Taurean. The shape was petite, and clearly under the control of the other. So this must be the Target. Instantly he ran over what he knew of the woman in his mind, short, age, between ages 18 and 30, with a high probability that she fell somewhere near the center of that range, weight…unknown, class, priestess, race, human, fighting abilities…unknown, probably minimal. All in all, he really did not know much outside her name the Lady Rhonwhyn disciple of the sisters of Trine, on pilgrimage from Gomgoroth, this much was either common knowledge in the village, or clearly visible or guessed at by her appearance. He assessed her potential threat to be minimal. Not that she was his target, quite on the contrary, and yet this is how he functioned, each person was assessed as a potential threat in turn.

The second figure, much bulkier, was both recognized and known to the gray eyes of the assassin. Name, Grennen, age, unknown, in his fighting prime, race, half-Ogre, Height: 7 feet, give or Take affiliation: Despurden enforcer, Weapons: probably some sort of blade, plus the giant ax he wore strapped across his back. The weapons were not visible to Taurean, but he knew him, so knew they would be there. Threat level, high. He would not be easily killed. None of the poisons he had on him would work on his physiology, and the small dark elf style hand cross-bow which was the only ranged weapon he had in the city with him would not be remotely affective against his tough hide even if the toxins he had with him would work. This left sword or dagger. This meant that Taurean was back to his original plan of attacking him out on the road, a task that would grow exponentially more difficult as the enforcer joined his team which had to be waiting in the forest for Grennen and his captive.

Taurean wished that he could just kill the bastard now, especially as he watched him run his hands over the woman, and then knock her down. The only emotion that crossed his face was a slight clenching of his jaw and a tightening of his hand on his dagger’s hilt. The problem with killing Grennen here was that Taurean knew there were Despurden eyes and ears all over. A fight between the two of them would not be over quickly, and the half-elf had no desire to combat the entire guild this evening. No, his options were subterfuge, perhaps he could join Grennen’s party and undertake his mission from within, or stalking, and follow his target and plan to take him out as he had originally intended. Both plans had their strengths and weaknesses. Taurean would just have to watch and put into effect whichever plan he thought would have the highest possibility of success.

The assassin affected an air of emotionless calm, but most of that was just that an act. His emotions were buried deep but they were still there, and one thing that brought them to the surface was the mistreatment of women. Everyone had their specific triggers, this was one of his.

Grennen and Rhonwhyn were barely into the tree line surrounding the town when other figures began to emerge and surround the pair. Their numbers swelled until including Grennen there were five members of the party holding Rhonwhyn hostage.

Trailing the pair from a safe distance Brandon categorized or identified them as they appeared. Two appeared to be enforcers like Grennen, one a large muscled human male, the second a half-orc who if possible looked even uglier than Grennen. There was a small sly looking man whom Taurean knew as the weasel, and the last was a woman. Shyra Lath.” Brandon breathed under his breath. And with that name came the realization that she, not Grennen was the brains behind this operation. A high ranking lieutenant of the despurden guild. The plot was in deed thickening, why was such an important woman along on this expedition. Oh, she was cruel enough to orchestrate such an expedition, but why was she there. Was there something more afoot than the mere kidnapping of a Gomgoroth priestess? For the first time Taurean began to wonder if his involvement wasn’t anticipated, for why else would his ex-lover be involved in this situation, if not to try to anticipate his involvement?

The air suddenly seemed so much colder and the night sky so much darker—just where was the moon?—as Rhonwhyn found herself being dragged farther and farther away from Belbarren. The odd town had never seemed more inviting as she watched its silhouetted fall away from her vision as rough hands pulled and tugged her away from the lumpy bed she'd called her own for the night. Her pale eyes darted back and forth as strange sounds filled her ears causing her to tremble that much more with fright.

As if things couldn't get any worse. Already the fates were laughing maniacally, probably holding her dear Brigantia hostage as they smiled wickedly at the web they'd weaved, watching her squirm as she approached the evils that lurked and loomed in the night. Just then a breeze blew, but Rhonwhyn could hardly enjoy its kiss against her skin. Instead it was biting, her flesh forming goose bumps as her flimsy blue gown ruffled and pulled at her body like a second skin. She could feel the thin material sliding against her body as the oafish man's hands wandered a bit too much as he pulled her on his way.

All too soon, Rhonwhyn could see the forest looming in the distance. The trees looked like spindly witches beckoning her to Hell.

Torth... where are you...

Rhonwhyn looked to the man holding onto her, his grip only tightening as they approached the treeline and soon joined his band of followers. They looked upon her with malicious, toothy grins and she half wondered if their desire was to eat her. As she scanned the group, she caught sight of a woman, her head tilting in confusion. How could a woman be so bold as to be a part of such a horrendous crime against a fellow 'sister'? Surely, this could not be!

"Precious pearl smells of lavender," the brutish man bellowed, his hold on Rhonwhyn tight as he pulled her close to his body. He brought his nose against her cheek and inhaled deeply. "A rare find indeed." Just then, his tongue darted out and he licked the girl's face causing her to both wince and whimper, her eyes beginning to tear at his bold actions.

The others in the crowd only laughed at the sight of what the half-ogre man had done, but the woman just rolled her eyes. However, she did nothing to stop the 'fun' and merely made a vulgar hand gesture and waved them all on. But her distaste in their foolishness was clear.

"Ah, Shyra," the man said in mock affront. "Been awhile. Can't blame me or any of us."

Rhonwhyn's heart pounded hard, her pale eyes looking up at the man as she twisted her head slightly. Though, her vision was slightly obscured by the platinum curls that hung loosely in her face. Oh, to brush them away... but she was held fast, her arms bruising due to the hold.

"Wh-where is Torth?" Rhonwhyn finally asked, her voice timid and soft, though despite the terror that was thick within, it still held a light, melodic tone.

"That the fellow you were with?" the brute of a man stated more than asked.

Rhonwhyn merely nodded, her eyes welling with tears to the point where one finally fell along a porcelain-pale cheek.

The man just laughed uproariously. "My dear lady. Lesson number one. Never trust anyone." His grin only broadened as he watched the girl's face turn stark white. "Who do you think handed you over to us?"

Rhonwhyn felt her heart stop almost instantly. No... just no. It couldn't be true. It just could not! She refused to believe it! Shaking her head in both confusion and disbelief she looked at the man and whimpered, choking on a sob that suddenly bubbled up from within.

"It's all right if you cry," the woman called Shyra finally spoke from the shadows. "This time."

The man holding onto Rhonwhyn just smiled and laughed. "Suit yourself. I like it when they cry. I've had enough. I can't wait any longer." At that, he grabbed the girl's wrist and tried to drag her away from the crowd, the others looking on—some laughing, some rolling their eyes—Shyra, however, just watched with cool calm and turned her back waiting for the inevitable to happen and be done while the girl began to make her protests.

Less than a mile into the forest and they already want to stop. Stupid oafs. Shyra Lath could only glare as the over eager Grennen pulled their captive to the side. Much as a part of her wanted to, Shyra knew this one wasn’t wholly pure, and therefore she really had no grounds to deny the big guy his fun.

She gave a simple snap of her manicured fingers and instantly the others in the group came to varying levels of attention. Shyra gave a short gesture, no words were needed and Weasel went with Grennen. The little sneak would watch over the idiot, too stupid to control his urges until they had established a secure camp and perimeter, had he so soon forgotten the last few expeditions? How someone had robbed the Despurden guild of its prized slave hopefuls?

Shyra sure as hell hadn’t forgotten. After all that was the reason she was out in this god forsaken forest rather than in the upscale gambling halls owned by the Despurdens in Belbarren Major. Gone was her flowing dress slit up to her thigh and the red corset bodice that matched the color of her fiery hair. Instead she wore rough traveling clothes designed to help her blend into the forest. Her beautiful flowing red ringlets were swept up into a tight knot on the top of her head to keep it out of her face, with a hat pulled low to help hide the distinctive color.

She hated this, hated this with a passion. However if one thing could be said about Shyra, aside from cruel, manipulative, and power hungry, was that she was loyal to the guild masters of the Despurden guild. They were a means to an end, yes, power, but she saw them as the best path to power she had available to her. Therefore, they were useful to her, and that in turn bought her loyalty.

So why send her, one might ask? The answer to that, as many answers were, was as equally simple as complicated. She was available, loyal, intelligent, and a good leader. On the other hand, she was a lady, beautiful, cunning, and not on the surface suited to such a venture, she very much looked like she would be more comfortable in the gambling halls she was often to be found, running the place, flirting, seducing, and beguiling. So it took more than just the simple explanation that she was available and capable of handling the job that explained her presence.

The Despurden guild had lost 5 prized slave hopefuls in as many months, as well as twice that many enforcers and agents sent to retrieve those hopefuls. Of those agents, only 2 of the bodies had been found. There was something very interesting about the bodies. Both had been killed in the same way, both had been taken with a single thrust directly to the heart. This was not distinctive in and of itself, however one of them had been poisoned through a dart wound in the neck, he surely had died from the poison, and yet he still had that very distinctive thrust to the chest. It was the mark of an assassin, a very specific assassin. An assassin with a particularly wicked dagger that when thrust directly into the center of the heart was guaranteed to take the life of his victim no matter who they were. The particular assassin in question only used that dagger when he wanted to be recognized. For example, when he was seeking to use fear of his reputation to make his target make a mistake, or when he was seeking to heighten his reputation. The Despurden guild did not know why Brandon the black Hearted was involved, or what his involvement was, or if indeed truly he was involved.

Brandon had left his tenure at the Despurden Guild more than a year previously. Climbing from Shyra’s own bed in the middle of the night not to be seen in the city again. No one, especially Shyra knew his reasons for leaving, but she at least recognized and suspected it had concerned business rather than anything personal with her that had driven him away. After all, their relationship had been about sex, incredible sex of course, but still sex, right? Now the Despurden leadership had asked for someone to investigate Brandon’s potential involvement. Before she could be asked, Shyra had volunteered, for all knew hell hath no wrath… like a woman scorned.

Grennen dragged the lady Rhonwhyn off a little ways into the trees. Far enough away to be out of ear shot of the others. He wanted to make her scream, but knew Shyra, that buzz kill, would make him stop. There wasn’t no one gonna hear them this far out from the village, there weren’t nothing but miles of forest surrounding them, or so he thought.

Two sets of eyes watched the half-ogre, as he began to bend her slowly over a log, taking his time about it, slowly, almost giggling to himself at her discomfort. His hand slid down her back towards her upraised bottom. Both sets of eyes looked away from the sight as they cased the area. The cold gray eyes knew what they sought, while the brown ones were flicking around rapidly, trying to pierce the inky darkness trying to do as Shyra had commanded and protect the half-ogre from any potential threat.

Five against 1 were long odds, even for someone as skilled as Taurean, however they had divided themselves. Divided themselves without his prodding no less, and suddenly he was faced with two against one, and one of those two was distracted. Taurean knew what Grennen intended to do to the girl, after all the brute was not leaving much to her imagination, telling her in agonizing detail what he would do to her. Taurean didn’t even think that the lunkhead even knew that many words let alone how to weave them together in such a vivid picture.

The weasel on the other hand, was much more of a threat. He was good, sly, illusive, well-trained, and would not be easy to kill, especially not in the time he had available to him. Shyra had done her homework and had picked one of the best for her team. He knew that The Weasel and Chron, the bald human enforcer had been her choices for the team and that Grennen had chosen his half-orc sidekick to go with them.

Taurean considered his options and decided that his best option was to incapacitate The Weasel. He moved on silent feet, slipping closer, and hand cross-bow in hand. His night vision gave him a distinctive advantage over his opponent and he used that and every ounce of his training to sneak up close enough to the man crouched in the tree. There was one shot, a single click almost inaudible but very distinctive. The weasel jerked his head up at the familiar sound; inadvertently making it even more assured that the dart would take him in the neck.

The Drow sleep poison worked quickly, and seconds later, the small human was out, sliding slowly out of his tree to hit the ground with an audible thud. Taurean cursed inwardly, hoping that Grennen hadn’t heard the unintentional noises, but suspecting that although dense, and engrossed in his soon to come pleasure, he was likely neither that dense or oblivious. Tensing the half-elf waited and watched almost holding his breath waiting for the half-ogre’s reaction if any.

"No... no..." Rhonwhyn whimpered as the brutish man grabbed at her wrist and began dragging her off further into the forest. He was careful to hide his prize just beyond the tree line so that he'd have some privacy, but just close enough that his traveling companions could hear her screams.

Rhonwhyn was beside herself, her mind frantic as her heart thumped harder and harder, her breaths coming quicker and quicker. Just what was happening? Could this be real? And Torth... just... No! No! She couldn't accept the betrayal! Not after all the reassurance he'd given her when he'd volunteered so kindly to escort her on the most important and meaningful journey of her life. No, what she'd heard had been a lie! A cold and brutal lie meant to shake her and cause her mind to muddle.

"Please, don't do this!" Rhonwhyn pleaded, but her words were lost to the night air as she was tossed atop a log.

The bark was rough and it scratched at her porcelain-pale skin. Rhonwhyn could already feel the sting where protruding gnarled branches cut and tore at her flesh, pulled at her snowy hair as it hung in her face and over her shoulders. She could hear the man laughing behind her as he moved and shifted, one hand always touching her body... grabbing, groping, squeezing, bruising.

"Stop this madness!" Rhonwhyn begged, but all she heard was bellowing laughter mixed with vulgar language and brutal descriptions. Colorful words that left out no detail of what was about to happen. She could feel hands slowly appreciating her form, doing their best to drink in ever curve and angle. Slowly they slid along her body until they rested upon her backside.

"Oh, I'm gonna enjoy this," the man roared, his pants already undone.

Rhonwhyn whimpered, tears streaming down her cheeks as she glanced over her shoulder, though her platinum curls barred the way. "No... please, no..." she begged, her head shaking in protest.

Without further hesitation, the man bent over Rhonwhyn's body, his weight heavy as he leaned against her. He licked her cheek and nibbled her ear all while grinding against her, though thankfully the thin, filmy material of her gown still provided a small barrier between their bodies. But that heat... that horrible, terrible heat. She could feel it and as it tried to engulf her, she could feel the bile beginning to rise. Just then, the man's hands moved to grab at the flowing blue gown, reaching and tugging it up.

"Oh yes, my lovely," the man said against Rhonwhyn's ear. "This will be indeed be sweet."

As the man yanked Rhonwhyn's gown upward, his body pressed against hers—flesh against flesh—he suddenly heard a thud. Jerking his head around, he squinted his eyes to peer into the darkness.

"What the..." his voice trailed as he tried to see if something was there, if something might have happened. "Oy!" he shouted out, but there was no answer. "Damn it," he muttered before looked down at Rhonwhyn who laid there defenseless, helpless and sobbing over the log. "I'll be back for you," he said gruffly as he stepped away, pulling up his pants just a bit but leaving them open. Before walking away, he gave her backside an appreciative caress that ran down until his fingers touched the backs of her thighs.

As the man slunk off into the darkness he made his way to where his companion had been stationed, but as he approached he noticed a crumpled silhouette at the base of the tree. Clearly something had happened, had gone wrong. Was this a result of an animal? A bite of some strange creature? He could only begin to speculate.

Peering out into the darkness, the brutish man's stance shifted, his senses becoming more alert. "Anyone out there?" he called out. "Trying to interrupt my fuck?" he added. Pausing a moment, he smirked. "You can have a go at the bitch after I'm done... but only after. I captured her. It's only fair that I get first round."

Grennen looked around, his eyes trying to pierce the darkness as he knelt next to his companion. As much as he had wanted to be alone, he had figured that she had sent someone like the Weasel along with him. Her little spy. Even so, he thought that he was a good one to have at his back, or so he had thought. “Turns out I was wrong.” He muttered.

Reluctantly Grennen fastened his pants; the bitch would have to wait. The half-ogre was none too pleased with this turn of events, but even he wasn’t stupid enough to think pleasure came before duty. He just hoped he got to kill who or whatever had ruined his fun.

The big guy’s knees popped as he squatted down on his heals next to his companion, his hand reaching out to the side to feel for a pulse. His right hand gripped the haft of his long ax over his shoulder ready to yank it off his back at a second’s notice.

Two of his thick fingers found the side of Weasel’s neck and encountered a small amount of blood which appeared to be dripping from a small puncture wound in the neck. However, he felt the strong pulse of the carotid artery under his probing touch. He took this as a good sign, the little one was merely unconscious or paralyzed or something of the like. Shyra would not be pleased if her latest boy toy were killed.

Speaking of boy toys, this stank of Shyra’s old flame. Only he dealt in the drow sleep poison, which Grennen, who wasn’t as dumb as he looked, suspected had been used here. The behemoth spat on the ground, the warm spittle splattering all over his unconscious companion. He wanted absolutely nothing to do with The Black Heart; there was one nasty piece of work if ever he knew one. A fine match for Shyra Lath, come to think of it... a perfect match made in hell.

Before he could stand up, he heard the distinctive hiss of metal on leather, the sound of a blade being drawn. The crouching giant lurched as if to rise, but before he got far he felt the kiss of cold steal along the side of his neck. “My my Grennen, it has been a long time since you and I last met.”

The over large Adams apple of Grennen bobbed up and down as he swallowed. His initial thought was proved to be accurate. “What are you doing here Black Heart?” he managed to bite out. Able to keep the slight hint of fear out of his tone but not trying to hide the disgust and anger, the outrage that Brandon had spoiled his fun.
“Oh my dear Grennen, I am here to make sure that you have a really really bad day.” The half-elf said with a deadpan tone. He pulled back the sword to decapitate the half-ogre, but he moved faster than he expected.

Taurean’s blade whistled through the air, but rather than being rewarded with the satisfying thwack of hitting flesh there was only the swish of hitting air Grennen had rolled forward away from the blade, the wind of the blade’s strike Buffeting his face. The half-ogre moved much faster than the assassin anticipated and was already coming around, his long-ax sweeping out with a single handed backhand chop, which turned into a two handed sweep as Grennen got his free hand onto the haft adding to the swing of the blade.

Taurean didn’t dare try to block such a tremendous swing, his slender sword would probably snap from the impact of such a strike, to say nothing of the arm. Skittering backward, the half-elf sucked in his gut and arched his back, the ax’s razor sharp tip barely scoring the leather armor Taurean wore under his tunic, rather than slicing him in half. The strike impacted the side of a tree, slicing cleanly through half the substantial trunk with a single crashing blow.

Darting in behind the strike Taurean countered, hands rolling over and over, his blades dancing in a pattern that the half-ogre would be unable to predict, sword and dagger working seamlessly as extensions of the elf’s arms. The hulking Grennen got hit half a dozen times in that initial attack pattern wicked slashes and stabs, that had to more than sting, but none of which were even remotely life threatening.

As Grennen brought his ax back in the other direction his hands shifting positions to swipe the other way, he was again too slow as Taurean rolled beneath the blade coming up behind the hulking grennen and glanced a blow off his rib that he had intended to find his kidney, and a slash along the back of the column like thigh which failed to do what Taurean had intended and hamstring the oaf.

Taurean knew he could do this all night, running in circles around the behemoth but he knew also that it was only a matter of time before the others realized something was amiss and come and investigate. Therefore he stepped up the intensity of his attacks hitting Grennen again and again, using his superior night vision and faster speed to his advantage. He didn’t go completely unscathed, for as he closed in for the kill he elected to take a blow from the haft of the ax rather than from its bladed tip. He heard the crunch as it slammed into his side and was nearly slammed off his feet as he felt the sudden pop that suggested that at least one of his ribs had cracked if not broken.

Fighting through the pain Taurean leapt forward after ducking the wild backswing following that blow. Grennen had thought he had the half-elf so the next swing had been hasty, over confident, and the half-elf easily avoided it. He felt the breeze of its passing ruffle his hair before he came back to his feet and struck. The sword in his left hand came down slicing cleanly through Grennen’s right arm, and oh how the big howled with pain. The howl only lasted a couple seconds before he went silent as the life was snuffed out by a well-aimed thrust of that wicked dagger.

Moving gingerly, Taurean left the body of Grennen and the unconscious form of The Weasel behind. He hadn’t the time to go back and kill the Weasel, plus, he didn’t need a Despurden contract on his head, No one would miss Grennen, on the other hand, The Weasel, or Shyra, they would most definitely be missed and The guild would want blood. Best to just find this priestess and get the hell out of here before Shyra caught on that something other than fucking was going on out here in the trees. The woman wasn’t stupid, she would know well that howl of Grennen’s was not the cry of a tremendous sexual release; it was the cry of incredible pain.
Sheathing his blades Taurean approached the place he had last seen the priestess his eyes sweeping the area, seeking her out unerringly.

Everything had been a whirling blur to Rhonwhyn as she laid there strewn atop the log, its branches grabbing and scratching at her tiny body as tried to twist and turn to see just what exactly was going on. Finally, she managed to slide down off the thing, though the rough bark scraped her pale and delicate skin. Wincing, her blue eyes tearing as she letting out tiny noises of pain, she fell to the ground. Her legs felt lifeless and wobbly, so very weak. Biting down on her lip, she reached for one of the branches and hoisted herself up, her gown fluidly cascading back down over her body, covering it from view.

Rhonwhyn could hear the scuffles and thuds and knew that a small skirmish had broken out between the oafish man and another. But with whom? She could scarcely tell. Her eyes weren't very well adjusted to the darkness of night made darker by the trees that surrounded her and made a canopy blocking out any light the starts could hope to provide. For a brief moment, she looked up to the sky, her thoughts shifting to Brigantia. Quickly, she mumbled a soft prayer.

When Rhonwhyn tried to see what was happening—after hearing loud shots that made her fear that death had just occurred—things had suddenly gone quiet. Had the fight ended? And... who was the victor? As her teeth began to chatter, she could feel her body shudder both in fear and as a sudden chill ran along her spine. Slowly, she walked forward, taking tiny steps toward where all the horrific sounds of the fight had just taken place. A part of her wondered if she mad for daring to give in to her curiosity, but another part of her knew that trying to run or escape would end in futility. She'd only be captured again and no doubt her treatment upon retrieval would be that much worse.

Oh Brigantia...

Making her way through the pitch-blackness of the forest, Rhonwhyn stumbled over tree roots and finally was able to see the silhouette of someone approaching. Immediately stopped in her tracks, her hands clasping together as her slender fingers laced themselves nervously before finally moving upward to twist themselves among the loose snowy curls that hung about her petite shoulders. She was shaking, trembling, her crystal-colored eyes searching for more than just shadow as the figure approached.

Meanwhile, Shyra had heard the loud shouts of Grennen, her eyes flashing almost maliciously at the sound. If she wasn't mistaken—and it wasn't often that she was—she could swear that the brute was dealing with more than a pleasure romp in the forest. She clicked her tongue in disgust that something terrible might have occurred. Could the priestess be giving him more of a fight than any of them expected? It was possible. The Sisters Trine were trained in many things. It was possible that the girl had some fire hidden beneath that pretty and dainty exterior. Perhaps... No. No. More than likely something else was going on. Not wishing to delay, she narrowed her eyes and headed for the tree line, her feet light and near soundless as she made her way toward the howling sounds she'd heard mere moments ago.

Rhonwhyn swallowed hard, willing her feet to move until finally they did. Moving ever forward, she suddenly reached out into the inky dark. She had no idea who might be there, though she was sure it wasn't the bellowing brute. "H-hello?" she whispered, her voice wavering, almost faltering as she sniffled.

Shyra made her way through the trees, she could just barely make out the figures in the distance. But the one? She could easily tell who that pretty miss was. The stark contrast of white on black, like some angel walking amidst the dungeons of Hell... how ironic! She instantly knew who that was. But why was she walking about so freely? It could only mean one thing and she didn't like the thought of that one bit. Suddenly, her eyes caught sight of a crumpled form. Briefly, her eyes widened. But only for a moment before they narrowed. In an instant, her mind went to one man and one man only—Taurean.

Shyra’s eyes narrowed even farther as she examined the body more closely. It was clearly a Taurean kill, both the single kill thrust and the distinctively angled slashes all screamed of the half-elf. She spat the gesture of frustration in stark contrast to her ladylike appearance. “Stupid oaf.” She cursed the idiot Grennen for his stupidity. “Just had to have her didn’t you.” She snarled at the corpse.

Taurean, it came back to that name. She refused to call him that ridiculous Moniker Brandon. She refused to pander to the myth, she knew the man and it was the man whose heart she wanted on a platter. Why was he here, what was his involvement, what if any stake did he have in rescuing the little strumpet?

Her eyes lifted from the body of Grennen. If Taurean got Grennen that meant that he had to have gotten Malic as well, again, she refused to call him “The Weasel.” He had a perfectly good name. Her eyes briskly cased the area and she spotted the crumpled form.

Rising to her feet she moved over to Malik’s body, kicking Grennen as she passed, muttering “Stupid oaf.” Kneeling beside Malic, she reached to turn him over. His eyes were closed as if in slumber. Her fingers found the side of his neck, in a similar all be it much more feminine and delicate touch. She let out a soft sigh of relief when she found the pulse beating strongly under her fingers. Lifting her head she let out a loud hoot, mimicking the call of an owl to call the others to her. She briefly considered rushing after Taurean, but if she did, he would have all the advantages. She could not outmatch him in a one on one fight; she would have to out think him. He was alone with a naïve priestess, how difficult could it be?

He watched her fumbling approach; it was obvious she could barely see in the dark. That being said she showed guts trying to investigate the noises she had undoubtly heard. Stupid, but brave….he thought. He needed to get her away from here before the others showed up. He was a skilled fighter, but he was packing bruised or cracked ribs and there was three of them. Taurean was fearless and ruthless, but… not stupid.

His hand caught hers as she fumbled for him. Her hand felt smooth and soft, definitely not the hand of a woman used to hard physical labor. His hand dwarfed hers, yet was still delicate, with the callouses of sword and bow contrasting with the naturally smooth complexion of his half-elven heritage. “Easy there.” There’s a rock in front of you.”

Taurean wasn’t sure if that was the best introduction, but it was indeed practical. His words were hushed and he spoke in a clipped manner as he was trying to speak quickly. He wished in that moment that he had the skills to put her at ease. “He is dead, come with me if you do not wish to spend the rest of your life as a whoring pleasure slave on your back in a brothel.” That was likewise short and to the point. “I can see in the dark.” He added after a second as he began heading through the trees, tugging her along by her hand.

He lifted her hand to his shoulder, “It will be easier to follow my movements this way.” He said. He swore softly as he heard the distinctive owl Hoot. “That is no owl, come on; we haven’t the time to discuss this.” He said cutting off any potential protests whether she had any or not. He really did not want to knock her out and carry her off; it would significantly slow their progress.

The trees closed in around them as he lead her through the forest, deeper and deeper, praying under his breath that she would not make this more difficult for him. He could hear twigs and leaves snapping under her footsteps. She was in bare feet; could she not be any quieter? Still, she hadn’t complained…yet.

Rhonwhyn almost shouted out the moment she felt the warm hand grabbing her own. But she thought better of the situation and quieted herself, stilling her tongue and just nodding her head as she heard hoarse whispers curtly explaining the situation and guiding her as to what was going on and what she needed to do. Even still, she did not feel entirely safe. She could barely see and her nerves were more than rattled. As it was, her body was shaking, so she tried her best to focus upon the feel of this stranger's hand as it held her own.

The hand was larger than hers, rough though not unpleasant. And the warmth... Oh Rhonwhyn could easily relish that given how cold the air felt as it rushed over her body. Despite her fear, she took solace in that bit of warmth, that tiny bit of contact she had with another who, for reasons unknown, seemed concerned for her welfare. Whether his concerns had an ulterior purpose, she didn't know nor did she care. She could hear other noises in the night and feared what those might bring along with them... the others, other beasts? None were appealing, so she figured it best to obey.

It was difficult traipsing through the forest in the cover of the night, the moon nowhere to be seen. Rhonwhyn wondered if that was a curse or omen, a telling sign of things to come. But no matter, she needed to concentrate on her task at hand and that was somehow following her guide and savior through this gnarled forest without being detected. He'd alluded to the fact that others were close by, that they might be being followed. The very idea made her blood run cold, her heart skip a beat. She feared what might happen if the others found out about the scuffle, that she'd gotten away.

Just then, Rhonwhyn shuddered, a chill rippling through her body as she moved closer to her guide, her hand—now gripping his shoulder—clutched him more tightly. She pressed herself against him, her feet moving of their own accord as she tried her best not to stumble or make any noise that might give them away. So many times, she felt her mouth turn into a frown, her blue eyes pricking with tears as she worried that she might be a burden or worse and get them both caught. But she wasn't used to such travel nor being treated in such a manner. Never in all her short life had she been pursued like this, in such danger. Never had she been on the run or in fear for her life.

Rhonwhyn could feel the soles of her feet being cut and scratched as she followed her new guide. Several times, she had to bite down on her lip to stop herself from calling out, from crying. But, no. She had to stay strong... at least for a little while longer until they were both out of danger and could thus rest a bit easier.

"Thank you," she whispered so very softly as they moved deeper in amongst the trees. Thankfully, it seemed like the sounds she'd heard earlier were becoming quieter. But whether that was because they'd gained ground, lost them or something else entirely, she wasn't sure. It was too difficult to see and she wasn't used to such situations. Never had she anticipated such a thing could happen to her, yet... here she was in the black of night with some strange man trying to run for her life.

Rhonwhyn gazed up toward the treetops toward the sky, but she could not see a thing. She knew the stars shone above the make shift canopy, but the moon... it hid itself this night. Swallowing hard and licking her lips, she prayed silently to Lunaria. She then tightened her grip even more on her savior's shoulder.

"Where are we going?" she asked him, trying her best to stay quiet and ensure no one could hear. She moved closer still, leaving no space between herself and him, taking advantage of the heat and the touch. It gave her small comfort as fear tried to consume her whole, it's teeth gnashing ferociously as it tried to tear her apart.

Taurean felt her moving behind him. Slowly moving closer and closer. Had she no sense, if they were to get into a fight she would impede his movement. He gritted his teeth and just barely managed not to push her away. It was more than obvious that she was frightened. The girl was shaking like a leaf on a tree, and even the cold hearted assassin couldn’t blame her.

There were a hundred things he could have said, that he wanted to say to her heartfelt thank you, whispered in that soft lilting voice, melodic even at the level of a whisper. They ranged from, “Shut up and stay quiet,” to, “don’t thank me yet, we could still be dead before morning.” And anywhere in between. Fortunately he had enough sense to keep those thoughts inside his head. He was also still trying to be quiet, so his hand merely lifted to settle over hers. Covering the small delicate fingers he gave it a squeeze, which he hoped conveyed, all of those things and more, but most especially that he had heard her and he wasn’t merely ignoring her.

If you asked Taurean why he had even bothered to do such a thing, he probably would not have answered, but deep down, the assassin knew what it was like to be scared, to be alone. To be…. Cold. He stopped abruptly. He felt her pressing even closer even before he stopped and his stopping had her crammed against him. Without words he stepped away from her and sliding off his own forest cloak he rapped it around her slender shoulders. It was his turn to whisper near her ear, “We’re going somewhere safe.” He answered her final question with that simple statement. He trusted her to trust him. He knew she would have to be taking a lot on faith here, but there wasn’t a lot he could do about it right now. He needed her to trust him, and he didn’t have time to wheedle her into trusting him. He had no choice but to demand it. It was trust him or die, there really was no middle ground in this situation. He hoped if nothing else the cloak would help her chattering teeth, if she wasn’t talking the enemy could just hear that probably.

It wasn’t long before the trees gave way. The waters of a small river lapped against and spilled over its banks, running quicker than normal thanks to the recent rains.

Taurean led her, still remaining silent towards the boat. He had taken her hand into his again. He guided her that way for a moment before he tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow, a trick he had once heard of people using to guide the blind, that way the person could follow the movement of the body, and yet unlike the shoulder, the guide had control of their arm, so could move it to get the follower to swing wide around a rock, or get behind them.

When they reached the shore Taurean knelt and began to untie a boat. He was sure that she couldn’t see what he was doing even though there was a bit more light now they weren’t completely engulfed by trees. However heavy clouds still rode low over the skyline blocking out the stars. Taurean made a slight splash as he stepped into the shallows. He put one foot into the boat holding it steady.

Reaching back Taurean caught Rhonwhyn around the waist, most likely surprising her. He did hope she had the good sense to stay quiet and keep her girly little yips if any to herself. He swung her through the air like she weighed nothing and sat her in the boat. He slid in after her, forced to rap himself around her, arms sliding around her waist, back pressed along her, her ass nestled between his spread thighs. His arms reached and retrieved the paddles and he began to shove them out into the current.

Throughout this entire process Brandon was silent save for a slight grunt of pain when he lifted her as it put a strain on his bruised ribs. Even so he never uttered a complaint.

He had been paddling for a few minutes, propelling them swiftly downstream, before he finally spoke in a hushed whisper in her ear. His breath so close that it actually teased and moved the fine blonde hairs covering the ear. “You can call me Brandon.” He was specific about the phrasing, he always was, he never said my name is Brandon; it was always you may call me Brandon, or just simply “Brandon.” And that would be the entirety of his introduction. However, this once he hoped she had not caught his odd turn of phrase, for they had not the time to begin to answer the wealth of questions she probably had, least of all why he introduced himself rather strangely.

The sound of the water was oddly comforting in the inky black, though Rhonwhyn still had no idea where they were or where they were going other than somewhere 'safe'. Her hand gripped the cloak that had been placed about her slender shoulders, the weight of it warm and its scent a mix of cedar and pine—no doubt the smells of the forest. Just what sort of man roamed the wilds and could see in the dark, she wondered? Truly he must be one with the forest and its creatures... a true wandering soul.

As they neared the water, its rippling sounds becoming louder as they approached, Rhonwhyn could suddenly hear her savior manipulating and working on what she was sure was a boat of some sort. Had he stashed it away or was it luck that they'd come across the thing? She had to admit that given the way the night was unfolding and the way things had suddenly turned since her 'rescue', that she couldn't help but believe in the former. Silly or not, fanciful or realistic... she couldn't help herself and had no choice but to believe. Again, she looked to the clouded skies, her pale eyes pleading to see the stars. But it was no use. They were nowhere in sight and once more she found herself silently praying to Lunaria

Before long, Rhonwhyn found herself nestled and settled between two strong thighs, each one bracing her and holding her in place as she sat down. As two arms reached about her, their warmth more than noticed by her, she watched them grab for the paddles and begin the laborious work of getting them away from the shore. She was unsure of how long it had taken to get them moving, but that hardly mattered. What did was that distance was put between them and their pursuers... whoever they were.

Rhonwhyn felt a chilling heat run along her spine, a rush of adrenaline coursing throughout her body the further they got, her body nestling closer to the man who told her to call him 'Brandon'. She said the name over and over in her head... a peculiar name for someone who understood the wilds and was able to slink around at night. But, if that was what he was to be called... so be it. Brandon it was.

"Thank you, Brandon," Rhonwhyn whispered softly, her voice almost lost as she spoke. Slowly, she tried to twist her head, trying to get a glimpse of the face of the man who'd saved her. But a breeze blew over the water causing her platinum curls to sweep into her eyes. Immediately, she turned to look forward, her head jerking slightly to try and remove the hair from her eyes.

Licking her lips, Rhonwhyn then slowly raised a hand and pushed at her long hair, moving it so it no longer impeded her vision. Once out of the way, she turned her head again, trying to look at her savior's face all while giving him a smile. She could still feel his warmth as well as the tension of his muscles as he paddled them further and further from the shoreline.

Somewhere 'safe'. Rhonwhyn wondered, exactly, where such a place as that truly was. After everything that had happened and if the rumors she'd heard about Torth were true, she didn't know if she could truly believe anywhere or anything was 'safe' any longer. Could she even trust this man who was helping her? She didn't know, but it was definitely the best option laid before her... she had to hope that somehow Brigantia would see her through. It was all she had and could hold onto.

Without realizing it, Rhonwhyn leaned against Brandon slightly—an instinctive action she couldn't help if she tried. His warmth providing comfort and the touch making her feel safer than the empty air swirling about them both. As she tried to calm down, let herself slowly relax, she suddenly recalled the sound he'd made as they'd gotten into the boat. It had been subtle, but it hadn't gone unnoticed. Biting down on her lip, she twisted around slightly and looked at him, her face one of slight worry.

"Are you all right?" Rhonwhyn asked Brandon, her brow arching slightly as her pale eyes tried their best to find his in the darkness. She knew he was in some kind of pain. The question was... in how much pain was he and... what exactly had caused it. She hoped he'd tell her, especially after everything that they'd been together so far.

Taurean wasn’t sure why he had told her to call him Brandon. He wasn’t out to get her, she had no price on her head that he had taken contract for. On the contrary, it seemed as if he had taken up contract to save her. A contract he was pretty sure he would never get paid for, at a level with which he would like to see himself get compensated for. However, his contract did involve her in a roundabout way, although it did not mention her specifically. The issue then was why did he seek to frighten her with his adopted name? Was he truly trying to scare her? She might not have known who he was; she did seem to have lived a cloistered life within the temple. She might not know the names of all the famous assassins in Ersheath, even the most well-known one.

No, it was probably his desire to keep her at a distance. The less she knew about him the better it would be for her. The less she knew, the less anyone could torture her to learn. She seemed so gentle and naïve. If Shyra or some of the other talented interrogators at the Despurden headquarters got ahold of her, it would be ugly. Strangely, he found himself not wanting that for her. It all came back to that he couldn’t stand senseless cruelty to women. He would kill a woman without hesitation, but he would never rape one, torture her, or commit other such similar acts. The memories associated with such acts ran too deep. Following that thought, Brandon, the over controlled killer clamped down on the racing thoughts of Taurean. They were not separate identities, but more personas, Brandon was just a name given to his assassin’s training. And at the moment, that training would not let his mind go into the past. The memories there were too much, and reliving them at this time served no purpose.

The cool night breeze had felt good on his skin when walking through the trees. It was less pleasant out over the open water, much cooler than on land. However it was not enough to bother Taurean as he propelled them through the water. He could feel the breeze blowing her wayward curls into his face, aided when she tried to turn to look at him. He didn’t have a hand to brush them out of his face, but he didn’t mind too particularly much either. At this point most of his navigation was through sound and letting the current take them rather than using his sight, there really wasn’t much to see.

He knew she wanted answers but Taurean did not dare speak too much yet; he still wanted to put more ground between them and their pursuers. He did answer her question though. “I have bruised, cracked or broken ribs.” He stated as if such an occurrence were commonplace. He could also feel a line of blood trailing down his cheek, probably from where he had impacted the tree trunk. “And various scratches and cuts. Nothing particularly unusual.” He added, unsure why she had inquired, what did she care, and furthermore why he even answered her.

Paddling the boat hurt his ribs, the repetitive movement sending jarring pains throughout his chest, but never once did he complain. Rather his senses were for the most part trained outward, listening to the lapping of the water against the bank. Listening for turns in the river. Feeling for obstacles with the paddles as much as by spotting them with his sight or sensing them with his hearing. He inhaled, and realized that that fool Grennen had been right, that she did smell of Lavender. After he had given her his cloak, this left him in his tunic, with the leather armor vest over it. Both died in greens and browns, with a healthy amount of black thrown in to aid him in being invisible both at night and in the daytime. With her rapped in his cloak, he hoped they were more difficult to see now, that had been another reason he had given it to her, aside from the simple desire to keep her warm.

Nestled in Brandon's cloak and between his strong thighs as he continued to paddle onward and into the night, Rhonwhyn still felt a biting chill trying to settle deeply within her bones. She knew it was fear trying to take its hold, trying to consume and swallow her whole so that it could stand up and be the victor. But, she couldn't let it win. Not when she'd been assured that safety was within their grasp and so much had been done to ensure it all in the first place. Whoever this man was, he'd gone out of his way to aid her. Putting himself in harm's way, risking his life...

The moment Brandon admitted his wounds and injuries, Rhonwhyn felt a pang of guilt wash over her. Though she still didn't understand what was going on or why... after all, why would Torth betray her, assuming the rumor was true? Why? She truly didn't understand how someone could do that to another, especially one who had taken vows to care for and protect that person, had gotten to know them.

Rhonwhyn could feel her pale eyes prickling as tears began to well up within, threatening to spill over and stream along her cheeks. But she managed to blink them back, but only just. As she looked at Brandon, she gave him a warm smile, her hair blowing as the breezes moved and swirled over the water as he continued to paddle toward their destination.

"I... I can help you... a little," Rhonwhyn suggested almost timidly, her voice kind and sweet like a soft melody dancing on the wind as she whispered. Swallowing lightly, she hesitantly twisted where she sat, her hands coming about so that she could touch him—in particular, his torso.

Rhonwhyn's hands rested very gently against Brandon as she closed her eyes and began to mumbled words of ancient tongues. Briefly, her eyes opened and she glanced up toward the open sky—no moon or stars to be seen given the cloud cover—her voice rising just slightly. She was praying to Brigantia, her hands beginning to glow as an aura of soft white light emanated from them. It wasn't overly bright and they glowed, she shifted her body, the cloak she was now donning moving to cover the glow as it shone so that any onlookers would be unable to see it.

Finally, Rhonwhyn's lips went still and she slowly let her hands drag away from Brandon. As she opened her eyes, she found herself looking back into his, her cheeks heating up causing her skin to tinge a pale shade of scarlet.

"It isn't much," Rhonwhyn admitted. "But hopefully it has dulled the pain." She smiled a bit as she blushed, her hands reaching up to tug on the cloak wrapped about her slight body. She pulled it tightly, nestling deeply within so as to hide the heat she knew was residing within her cheeks.

As Rhonwhyn looked at Brandon, she truly hoped she'd helped him in some small way. After all, she owed him her life. He'd saved her life, her honor. He'd helped her when no one else did or possibly could. So, it was the least she could do given the talents she'd acquired back at the temple. Given that, if this aided him, she'd be happy though she knew she'd still have to find a way to repay him for saving her... somehow.

Taurean continued to paddle, from all outward appearances oblivious to her words and actions. But looks were deceiving; he was aware of her every action. He could feel her hands, the shape of them as they pressed against his torso. The left slipping in under the side of his leather armored vest to press to directly over the injured ribs. Even though it was not flesh to flesh, he could feel her touch distinctly. Her other hand had only found its way to the armored vest and he could feel the pressure from that hand but not so much its shape.

One would think healing like she was attempting would require direct skin to skin contact, but no, the magic did not mind if one had on a thin tunic, like what was under her left hand, the thick leather armor as under her right hand, or even if he had been wearing thick metal plate armor. Although For a split second there, Brandon wondered what it would be like to feel those slender hands on his bare skin. Just for the briefest of seconds, before the control that was Brandon reasserted himself and he shut down all such thoughts. She could probably feel the flexing of his muscles as the paddled under her touch, a repetitive motion that stilled for the briefest of instants as she first placed her palms against him.

The analytical portion of his mind rationalized her actions. If he was injured he would be less affective at saving her, and she most obviously wanted to be saved, to be kept safe. This was the cynical assassin in him who could not conceive that a big portion of her reasons for healing people, as was the calling of all healers, was to reduce suffering and to help people. A true healer healed because they could, because it was their calling. A healer did not care if they got paid or other such trivial meaningless factors. A healer had once tried to explain it to him. Brandon had merely laughed at the fellow and handed him a purse of gold for his services. He would be beholden to no one; he would not owe anyone anything for a kindness done to him. So it was that he justified her actions in his mind. This was her way of repaying him for saving her, so he would owe her nothing for her assistance because she owed him for saving her life. Never mind that it was part of his assigned duty, she did not know this.

Brandon watched as the glow began to form around her hands, it was different for every cleric, the glow taking on a color that fit the god or goddess and sometimes even the aura of the cleric. The color white for a priestess of Brigantia made sense, for it was night, and during the hours of the dark, the face of the goddess was that of the moon goddess, Taurean could not bring to mind her name. He knew only the slightest bit about Rhonwhyn’s faith, but for the most part what knowledge he had had been enough over the years. He opened his mouth to curse her for causing the light, for doing this now in the open when they were both still vulnerable. He closed it again as she moved subtly, his cloak, that she wore, falling around her to shield the glow from any potential watchers. His head nodded once in approval, perhaps she was not as naïve as he had initially thought.

Taurean could feel the heat of her magic flowing into him. Many healers healed in different ways. He could feel her energy and thoughts focused around his ribs. The healing was controlled in part by her will and in part by the magic, which automatically sought out the worst damage. He felt for the briefest of instances her mind brush his, an action that probably was intended to remove his pain, and the pain caused by the healing. His natural shields were tight and the gentle probing was rebuffed. He would not so easily let her into his mind, even to do such a service to him. To him it was a testament to her inexperience that the magic and her will hadn’t punctured his shields. A very powerful healer could have punched through his mental barriers, or coaxed their way in. High level healing often involved the removing of the other’s pain by taking it into oneself, becoming a conduit for the pain to then dissipate.

Having rebuffed the magic’s request to remove the pain, Taurean was left with the searing heat and burning pain as the magic flowed into his ribs forcibly mending the damage that had been done. He felt the bones grate together as the one rib that was broken knit itself back together. He knew as she pulled her hands back that she had not healed everything, but the sharp pain of the broken rib was gone, and it was all reduced to a dull ache rather than the sharp breath stealing pain of before.

Her eyes flicked up from her work and for the first time their eyes met. The cool gray of Brandon’s eyes was not visible in the night, but his eyes did seem to glow red, the telltale sign of infrovision. That first look for the first time possibly giving Rhonwhyn a clue to whom or at least what Taurean was. For of the goodly surface races, elves and dwarves were best known for the heat seeking sight, and it was more than clear that Taurean was no dwarf. Taurean gave a curt nod, “Thank you.” Was all he said. He gave no information as to how her healing had helped, whether it had been welcomed, just a simple acknowledgement of what she had done. Something about the healing process, Taurean did not really understand how, he was no healer, would have told her how successful she was at healing him, so he felt no need to provide her with information about it. He merely accepted the help and continued to paddle them downstream.

However, though he would not say so aloud, he was glad of her assistance, for they were nearing more difficult waters and he would need his strength and full range of motion. Even now he could hear the increasing agitation of the water, as it lapped harder at the boat and the banks as the river began to narrow, the current picking up speed.

There was a glint shining in Brandon's eyes. Perhaps it had been the way the water merely danced and reflected off of his eyes. But one thing was clear. Rhonwhyn had caught the subtle red hues, those crimson shades as he'd nodded in what seemed to be approval. She smiled warmly, her cheeks heating slightly, and she knew instantly that she was dealing with one of elven blood. In all her years at the temple in Gomgorath, she'd never met anyone of who could call themselves elf. Whether there was reason for that, she was uncertain. But none had ever had the calling nor the inclination to pay homage to the goddess of the triad.

"You're welcome," Rhonwhyn then said, her voice a soft whisper as the water burbled and babbled about the tiny boat that carried both she and Brandon. She bit down on her lip as she tugged a bit on the cloak wrapped about her small frame. Partially for warmth and partially for balance as the currents began to run stronger, pushing the boat faster and causing it bounce about as it flowed along the river.

Rhonwhyn was in awe at how well Brandon seemed to be able to navigate the boat. He seemed to be able to handle the thing well and what was more while under the cover of darkness and while being pursued by others. Though, she was fairly certain the others might have lost sight of them... for the time being. However, though naïve to the ways of the wilds and the world outside her keep, she knew not to discount that those who'd taken her wouldn't be back.

Just then, the boat hit a bump. Rhonwhyn let out a tiny gasp, but she managed to stifle the sound so that it didn't travel far or grow to become too loud. She twisted around to look at Brandon, her face full of worry as the waters became rough and the boat began to rock and bounce, the waves slowly becoming more turbulent. Her thoughts were growing wild with worry and her muscles were tensing. Without much thought, one hand reached to hold onto the boat's edge while the other grabbed hold of Brandon's thigh.

Again, the boat jostled, the currents becoming stronger as the waves started foaming white into light rapids. Rhonwhyn turned her head to look at Brandon for a moment, her body moving to be closer to his as fear set in. Her heart pounded, her breath quickened and she suddenly wondered if their earlier escape had been in vain. Would they now die in the rapids? Would they both drown?

Rhonwhyn's blue eyes welled with tears as the river water splashed up at her face. The water was cold, the jolt of it as it struck against her sending chills coursing throughout her tiny body. She shivered a bit, her platinum hair getting a bit wet as more and more water splashed up as the boat began to bump along the rough water, occasionally skimming against a stray rock or two. Once more, she prayed and this time to Ember to light the way. As she mumbled her words quietly, fresh tears streaming down pale cheeks, her grip on Brandon's thigh grew stronger, her body pressing closer for warmth, for comfort. She could only hope that they'd make it out safely, that soon they'd make it to that 'somewhere safe' Brandon had mentioned when he'd rescued her.

Oh how Rhonwhyn longed for that, wanted that.

Looking back at Brandon again, Rhonwhyn tried to stifle the frighten whimper that threatened to escape her. She just had to hold out a little longer, have faith that he could guide them both to safety. After all, he'd gotten them this far. Yes, she had to have faith. Brigantia and the fates had their reasons for everything. She just had to trust them.

This was not the first time Taurean had been in a boat, judging by the deft way he handled the slim craft. It was also evident that this wasn’t the first time he had been down this particular stretch of water either, for even without much vision he seemed to know where they were. In truth the half-elf could see their progress in his mind. Although he didn’t, he could almost close his eyes and guide them entirely by feel, this is how much he was relying on his memories of this route.

In his mind, Taurean could see the river’s path. He could see the gentle rise and fall of the banks rising up, beginning to loom like craggy gnarled old soldiers glaring down at them. The banks were changing from the soft mud to stone; the water became narrower and deeper here, running fast and roughly. Spray began to buffet the sides of the craft and Taurean was glad that Rhonwhyn could not see the jagged rocks surrounding them like snaggleteeth of some great underwater river monster. He suspected if she could, the fragile-hearted lass would be gripping his thigh even harder than she already was.

Brandon could feel her taunt as a bowstring, fairly thrumming with her tension. He could feel the slight tremors of fear mixed in an almost debilitating combination with shivers of cold. Taurean took a deep breath steadying himself, forcing his own heart rate to remain even and slow. He could not afford to let her tension bleed into him; infect him with her fear and uncertainty. He also could not let his emotions show, for if she thought he was nervous about what lay before them, it would only make her tension ratchet out of control spiraling presumably towards panic.

The truth was, Taurean knew what lay ahead, and as much as he hadn’t wanted a fight with Shyra Lath, he wasn’t sure that what lay ahead was much better.

The boat jostled and rocked as they skimmed and scraped against rocks. This path was treacherous in daylight, only a fool or a desperate man would choose to navigate the troll rapids at night. In that moment Taurean questioned himself, he knew they were desperate, but, he wasn’t sure if he wasn’t a fool as well.

He hoped his deft movements, their mostly silent progress would keep the deadly trolls from spotting them, smelling them, whatever it was that attracted trolls to pray. He knew he should warn her they faced, but he knew she would panic for sure, and he doubted she would remain quiet. He knew if they made it through the troll rapids unscathed, they would face a waterfall. They were not close enough to hear the falls yet, but he could see them in his mind, as beautiful as they were potentially deadly.

His breath brushed against her ear as he barely breathed the sound just barely audible over the splashing rush of the water. “Between your feet there is a broken oar shaft, that can be used as a club. Take it and hit anything that tries to come into this boat. You and I are the only ones welcome in this boat, anything else is to be treated as a threat. Rest assured if something tries to crawl in this boat, it is a threat. And before you ask no, a sword won’t help, in fact it will just make things worse.”

River trolls were as nasty as any variety. Like all trolls they regenerated missing body parts, and even the severed hands and arms could grow a new troll. So in fact a bladed weapon could in fact make things way worse. Blunt edged weapons were somewhat affective. Fire was the only thing the trolls feared, but here on the open water there weren’t a lot of options for flames, so Taurean didn’t even suggest it. He ran through his options, through his equipment, there were some possibilities in his arsenal, but he had to paddle, so for the moment, he would hope she was not as frail as she looked and could defend them if it became necessary.

The boat seemed to move faster along the water's surface as it coursed along, the waves only getting rougher with each passing moment. Rhonwhyn's tummy fluttered as the boat jostled and jolted, her tiny body bumping about as she held on both to it and to Brandon for steadiness. But it was to no avail. She could feel herself tipping slightly one way or another depending on how the boat moved and swayed, unused to such movements and definitely due to not being able to see the path of the river that laid ahead of them both.

Rhonwhyn had all she could do not to shout out in fear as the panic tried to consume and overwhelm her senses. A few times tiny gasps and stifled screams did manage to escape, but nothing that should cause alarm, especially with how loud the water's once babbling, now thundering, sounds rushed about the boat as it continued to glide over the whitening waves.

In truth, Rhonwhyn just wanted to hide, to somehow make the boat stop and all the frightening things around both herself and Brandon to dissipate into a soothing mist. She knew it was a foolish wish, just as she knew it was foolish to turn around and throw herself, sobbing, into Brandon's arms for a comforting hug. He wasn't Torth... he...

For a fleeting moment, Rhonwhyn thought about her previous guardian and how she'd been told that he'd betrayed her. Had he? If she allowed her mind to go calm despite the chaos, she had to admit, that it was the only explanation that truly made any sense. But, to believe that such a reputable man could be capable of such atrocity, such betrayal, such...

Once again, Rhonwhyn's eyes began to well with tears and her hold on Brandon tightened. But her thoughts were suddenly interrupted when she felt his hot breath against her ear, whispering words that she knew very well might save her life, words that sent chills along her spine.

In the darkness, Rhonwhyn dared to let go of the boat's edge while her other hand remained on Brandon's thigh and reached down for the broken oar. For what felt like several minutes, she allowed her hand to feel around the boat's floor until she found what she was seeking. Smiling, she slowly brought the oar up to her lap, letting it rest upon the tops of her thighs. As she let out a soft puff of air in relief, she turned around to look at Brandon, her platinum curls falling in front of her face ever so slightly as her head moved. She gave him a warm smile, one masking the fear she felt underneath though she knew he'd still see it, sense it, feel it.

Just then, Rhonwhyn felt something tug her one arm off of Brandon's leg. It took her off guard completely, causing her to slip and fall onto her side. She reached for the oar that she'd almost totally dropped, bringing it about her body to swing at whatever it was that suddenly seemed to be grabbing at them. The oar connected with something hard and a loud thwack resonated in the air. She could feel her own body shaking from the strike, but at least whatever it was that had held onto her let go. Though, as it let go something else grabbed at her now exposed ankle.

Rhonwhyn began to panic, whimpers turning into cries as the tug on her ankle caused her to be pulled to one side of the boat. "Brandon!" she finally shouted out, her voice not too loud, but loud enough. One hand reached for the man while the other tried to swing at whatever it was that was grabbing at her with the broken oar.

The expected attack came after the boat entered a particularly narrow section of the watery cleft, that map makers cleverly had named the narrows. It had another name, the troll narrows, or simply, the killing gorge. Taurean couldn’t see them, couldn’t see the ropy green hair, the jagged teeth and long dirty fingernails, almost like claws, the almost squid like rubbery bodies, but he could hear the chuff of their breathing, could hear those nails scratching at the sides of the boat.

He could feel the growing tension in Rhonwhyn’s body, the priestess’s tension bleeding into her touch on his thigh as she clamped down on the leather of his pants. Despite her fear she had grabbed the oar as instructed, demonstrating she had some degree of poise in a crisis. He had no time or energy to spare to offer her any comfort. Even if he could have, he suspected his comfort would seem hollow and empty in the face of what he knew was all around them.

The actual attack came with the suddenness of any ambush. Her hand was yanked from his thigh, leaving a cool emptiness in the wake of her touch. He could still feel the sides of her bottom and hips pressing against him, but the sudden loss of that death grip contact surprised him. He missed a stroke and they jounced against a rock, a move that may have worked to their advantage for he heard a meaty thwack that had nothing to do with the boat hitting the submerged rocks.

Even though he did not see the strike, it was obvious that rhonwhyn had landed a hit on one of their attackers. Almost an instant later, the priestess’s weight shift, causing the boat to rock dangerously. Taurean swore as his eyes flicked their red glow piercing the inky blackness. He could see the looming shape of one of the trolls coming out of the river water, one hand scratching and scrabbling at the side of the boat while the other had a solid hold of Rhonwhyn’s ankle. He could see the heat in telltale rivulets that meant she was bleeding from the tare of the claw like nails of the beast.

She screamed once for him, a clipped call that was his name. It was a cry for help, a sound of controlled panic. It was obvious that she had cut it off not wanting to attract more attackers but yet she still needed assistance. She flailed ineffectively at the creature holding her, the hurried blows bouncing harmlessly off the creature’s rubbery hide.

It was strange how time always seemed to slow in moments like this. Even though he was moving with lightning speed, there were details that were burned into his mind that were crystal clear. It was strange how the details that stuck out were the least relevant as well. Taurean could see his oar coming out of the water, the right handed instrument turning into a deadly weapon as he swept it through the air towards his left foot where Rhonwhyn and her attacker were struggling. The hiss of the oar through the air was audible. Drops of water spattered through the air, fanning out in an arc as the sweep moved towards its inevitable target. He could see some of the cold drops splatter against Rhonwhyn, some sliding down the front of that flimsy night gown. It was little details like that that stuck out. Her life was threatened and yet he wondered if she was cold?

The side of the oar like a blade slammed into the troll’s arms and there was a snap that sounded like an ax snapping wood as the wood snapped the bones of the troll. The blow had been strong enough to sever the limb that was holding fast to Rhonwhyn. The living limb continuing to claw at her as the disembodied wrist and forearm flopped around.

The troll still clung tenaciously to the side of the boat despite the broken appendage that it was using to keep the death grip. Taurean gave one grunt of effort as his left hand oar made a similar sweep up from the water to connect sidelong with the side of the troll’s skull. There were two snaps with that strike, first the snap of the troll’s neck incapacitating the creature. The second crack was not a good noise though; it heralded the breaking of the oar, the flat blade snapping off the shaft.

Taurean knew this was not good news for them as the boat began to pick up speed as their uninvited troll guest floated away leaving behind his arm. The troll wasn’t dead and the troll would grow a new forearm, for that matter the forearm would grow a new troll. However he could not help Rhonwhyn deal with the arm at that moment, he had more pressing concerns, trying to keep the boat going and from the rocks with his single remaining oar. He had discarded the worthless oar shaft in the bottom of the boat, his now free left hand clamping down on Rhonwhyn’s wrist, strong fingers locking tight as he reeled the woman back in, needing her to not be half over one side of the boat, they were rocking dangerously and although there were likely to be further troll attacks, at this point the current could kill them as easily as the trolls. Taurean did not have the luxury of being able to handle one crisis at a time, no rather he had to try to prevent the disasters in order of potential lethality, and at this moment capsizing the boat was a greater threat to them than the risk of more trolls.

The night was still so very dark and the air so very cold as it rushed over Rhonwhyn's dampened skin. The water was frigid as it soaked her to the bone, splashing about as both she and Brandon were tossed within the confines of their boat as something seemed to grab at them. She could feel the sting of wounds that had formed on her ankle, but she didn't have time to think on those. There were more pressing matters at hand and that was somehow surviving this terrible night gone wrong.

To think it had started with betrayal? Oh what a cruel, cruel place the world was outside the comfort of the temple's walls. It was now that Rhonwhyn desperately wished she could return to Gomgoroth and leave all of Belbarren behind her. But then... what of the fate of Brandon? He was doing her a kindness, trying to help and assist. No, she couldn't leave him now. Not after he'd gone so far out of his way for her. She'd forever be in his debt for it wasn't many that would place another before themselves without knowing the person or the situation upon which they were embarking. Yet, this man...

It was truly humbling.

Rhonwhyn continued to reach for Brandon as her pale eyes watched in vain as he moved to her aid. She could only make out shadow and silhouette, but her ears heard enough above the roaring sounds of the water as they continued to rush along the river. There was a loud crack, followed by a thud and splash. Quickly, she turned her head only to see a large massive shadow floating behind her in the rough waters, her mouth suddenly going dry as her mind reeled with what it might have been that had been grabbing at her.

Just then, Brandon pulled her safely back into the boat so that she was closer to him once more and no longer hanging over the edge. She pushed at her platinum waves that had plastered themselves to her face due to being wet and frantically scanned the boat as fear continued to course through her body. Her eyes caught sight of something strange on board their tiny 'vessel'. It was undoubtedly an arm or something very much resembling one. She had no doubt. Trembling both with fear and from the cold, she pushed at the arm and rolled it over the side of the boat until it splashed into the water.

Rhonwhyn let out a tiny whimper, her body shaking as tears began to prick at her cool, blue eyes. The terror running through her was so real and strong. This truly was no dream and it wasn't going to end. She could only hope that safety and sanctuary could soon be found. Glancing down, she could feel her ankle throbbing a bit from where she'd been grabbed and her body... so cold. But she'd never complain. It wasn't her way.

Suddenly, the current felt as though it were gaining both in strength and speed. Rhonwhyn shifted slightly where she sat, moving to be a bit closer to Brandon, seeking his warmth. Without realizing it, one of her hands moved to rest on his thigh, gently gripping it as the sounds in the distance grew louder. Her ears tried their best to hone in on what it was she was hearing as the boat bumped along, striking against rocks and bouncing along the crests of waves. When realization dawned, she felt a knot form in the pit of her stomach, her grip tightening even more.

"Are we..." Rhonwhyn began when she turned slightly to face Brandon, her teeth chattering ever so slightly as she spoke. "Are we going to survive this night?" Her eyes pleaded with him to be truthful. "I know what I hear up ahead." The sounds of what was most definitely a waterfall just beginning to come into hearing range in the distance.

Taurean could feel Rhonwhyn settle back against his chest, her hand unconsciously returning to his thigh. This one needed a lot of touch comfort, he thought to himself, but he did not push her away either. He could feel her tension still thrumming through her body and could imagine the look of disgust on her face as she threw the arm overboard. Smart girl… it wasn’t the first time Taurean found himself complimenting her in his head for her good work.

He could really only devote a bit of his attention to what she was doing, for the much larger concern was the trials mother nature was throwing up before them in clouds of mist and spray, a foggy cloud that heralded sharp rocks and eventually the plunge of the water fall. Brandon struggled to keep them on course with his single remaining oar, but knew this was not going to end well.

Then came her words, halting, almost choked off with her fright and concern. Again he had to admire that she was not as naïve as she looked, as she admitted she knew well what she heard up ahead.

Thin lips almost kissed her ear so close did he lean in, to speak into her ear so she could hear him over the rising drone of the waterfall. “I have no pretty words for you, and wouldn’t know how to give them if I did. I deal with truth. I cannot feed you a stream of false platitudes; I can only say, dying was not on my list of things to do tonight.” Was there the slightest trace of humor buried in that blunt statement? If so, it was sardonic and buried deep and yet to a perceptive ear, still there. It was little hints like this that suggested to an observer that the assassin was more than he seemed.

Taurean closed his mouth and gritted his teeth as they jounced against more rocks, riding the crests and troughs of every single wave. He wedged his oar against a rock and shoved, trying to turn the boat towards one of the looming banks. There was one chance to evade their pursuers, it was a cave system surrounding these falls that few knew about. The trick would be getting to them alive and unharmed.

The huge rock in the middle of the waterway split the river into two different waterfalls falling in tandem, and was very beautiful, unless you were about to go over them. “Ironic, everything beautiful is also so lethal, it was true for Shyra, his ex-lover, and now was going to be true from this waterfall. The boat striking the rock in the center probably saved the boat from going over the falls, but as it struck the bot smashed into so much kindling and the current swept Taurean and Rhonwhyn into the frigid water.

Taurean was able to take a gulp of air before the current pulled him under. His left hand clamped around Rhonwhyn’s wrist locking them together. He figured the priestess could swim, at least to some degree, but this was not an ideal condition to leave things to chance.

The half-elf’s legs and free arm churned as he paddled hard against the current, which smashed them rapidly into the rock. Taurean swore and hung on to the rock with his free hand knowing it was only a temporary measure. He needed those precious seconds to tell Rhonwhyn what to do. They were still not out of hope yet. Taurean knew the pool at the bottom was large and deep They could probably survive just giving in and going over the falls assuming they cleared the spray and thundering water, which would surly pummel them to death. Taurean had no doubt he could clear the rocks on his own, his lithe grace and athletic ability would grant him at least that, however nor could he abandon the priestess to die on her own. Taurean really wasn’t sure why either, he certainly did not owe her a damn thing, and it went against his survivalist mentality. He supposed it had to do with the fact that he had never given up before, had seen captives delivered no matter what the circumstances, even if she was a rescue rather than a captive, his own code of honor, such as it was, still held true.

Taurean reeled her into his chest, “Grab on, rap your arms and legs around me, we have one shot at this and one shot alone. If this doesn’t work we die, got it? I need you to hold on, and for god sakes don’t hinder my arms and legs. He guided her hands to straps on the leather armor, designed to hold weapons or tools, but which could serve as hand holds too. He waited for her to grab hold before he remotely would consider letting go. Did she even have a concept of what he planned? It sounded foolish even to him. Trying to turn a life threatening fall from a cliff into a death defying high dive into a pool, something that was trick enough on a good day, but while carrying another person? Brandon could feel his grip on the rock slipping, gritting his teeth he fought to hold them, a testament to his strength despite his slender appearance that he had held on this long, as he fought to buy them a few more precious agonizing seconds.


The sound of the slap sounded loud in the silence of the night time forest. The harsh contact of skin on skin sounded a second and then a third time before a soft moan of protest came to slumbering lips. Shyra Lath let her fingers linger on Malic aka the weasel’s cheek where she had just slapped him repeatedly to wake him. Eyelids fluttered over brown eyes. They gazed up at Shyra, squinting in the glow of the torch that Chron, the bald human enforcer held beside Shyra. He closed his eyes and groaned again sliding back towards sleep, the drug a powerful pull. However the ruthless Shyra was having none of that and Malic earned another slap. This time it drew a reaction as his hand darted up to catch her wrist as she drew back to hit him a 5th time. “I’m awake for fuck sake, stop hitting me.”

“I know, that one was for being dumb enough to get shot, you’re lucky I don’t gut you like Taurean did to that pisswhit Grennen.” Malic looked Confused.

“Taurean? The black heart is here? Why is he here? Why did he kill Grennen?” His speech was slow, still sleep fogged, however his eyes were clearing, and he slowly sat up.

“That my dear is a good question, but we’re going to find out, the 4 of us.” Malic could only nod, his hands rubbing at his eyes, his night vision ruined by sleep and the glow of the torch. Finding them would be more difficult now that they had had some time to get a head start on them, but none of the others would have been able to track them like he could, so wait for him to wake they had been forced to live with the knowledge that Brandon and their priestess prize had slipped from their grasp.

“Maybe we’ll get lucky and something else in this forest has killed them.” Malic muttered as he slowly got to his feet, having no idea how close to the truth he really was.

Rhonwhyn felt herself choke on nervous giggle as a fresh wave of tears began to fall from her pale eyes. She most certainly wasn't prepared to die, not yet. Not when she still had so much left to see, to do, to learn and now, no doubt, to also experience. Perhaps this dark and surreal moment with Brandon was part of the fate Brigantia had in store for her all along, perhaps this entire escapade into the night. All of it. Maybe it wasn't the intervention of the fates, but merely a fork in what had seemed to be a straight path ahead.

Looking up, Rhonwhyn couldn't see the moon, but she could feel the comforting heat of Brandon's body close behind her—a stark contrast to biting cold water that splashed upon them every time their boat struck rock or bounced wave. She found herself leaning into that warmth, needing to find some sort of peace amidst the chaos, even if only a little. At that, her grip on Brandon's thigh tightened a bit, her body shifting closer. But it was all in vain. Just as she'd moved, her head a mass of damp platinum waves, turning to look back at him, the boat struck something hard. Immediately the boat shattered and she found herself plunged within the depths of frigid cold, her tiny body bumping this way and that leaving her sore and surely bruised.

Rhonwhyn sputtered and chattered, her body trying to shut down as the cold tried to consume and take over. But then, she felt that warmth. Something had grabbed her wrist and was pulling her through the rough currents of the water toward a jagged and jutting rock. Something... something...

"Brandon..." Rhonwhyn mumbled as the water lapped over her lips and she found herself being dragged through the water. Her pale eyes somehow found his despite the darkness, which helped her find an inner strength. In that moment, her eyes, which had suddenly grown heavy, went wide. Alert.

As Rhonwhyn focused her gaze on her newfound guardian, she did her best to give him her utmost attention. The roar of the falls, the direness of the situation, they were distractions to say the least, but his eyes. She found herself drawn to his eyes. Without hesitation, she shifted, her arms and legs moving slowly due to the influence of the cold water on her body and muscles. But she fought on, moving her arms to wrap about his shoulders and her legs about his waist. Stifling a whimper, she rested her head against the crook of his neck, her body pressed close to seek his warmth as well as to obey the request just made.

Rhonwhyn locked her legs at her ankles, deciding it would help keep them closer as they embarked on this daring attempt to plummet over the side of the falls. She saw the dangers, understood the risks. Lifting her head for a brief moment, her eyes connected with Brandon's and she swallowed hard. Without thinking, she leaned close and gently, yet briefly, pressed her lips against his before pulling away once more.

"May Brigantia guide you," she whispered with a nervous and watery smile before resting her head against him once more. Her entire body shook from fear and cold, her breaths hot against his neck as she shivered and panted. Just then, her grip about him tightened. "I... I'm ready," she added before clamping her eyes shut and sucking in a sharp breath of anticipation not knowing what would happen once Brandon jumped.

Taurean could feel her obeying his command as her eyes met his, giving him her trust in those eyes. It was too dark to see the color of her eyes, however his still glowed with the warm red hews of his heat seeking sight. She cuddled close to him; there was no real other way to describe it. In any other circumstance, this had the potential to be a very intimate position. He could feel the clamp of her bare thighs around his waist as she pressed her cheek into his neck. He wondered if she wore smallclothes, did she have an under garment? He told himself he wondered for her sake, so perhaps she was not so freezing under that gown, he told himself it had nothing to do with his own curiosity.

This train of thought was only allowed to continue for a few heartbeats, an almost infinitesimal span of time before his control shut out such distracting irrelevant thoughts, they would deal with the fallout of hypothermia in due time…one calamity at a time.

She lifted her head and he felt the full softness of her lips press to his. Again, one might wonder how he had any time to remember the small details like that, but as mentioned before it was strange the details that stuck out to you when your life was threatened. He didn’t so much kiss her back as not turn away. It happened so quickly that she did not really give him a chance to react, and if she had kept up the kiss, let the heartbeats it lasted stretch into seconds his reaction might have been different. He felt the corners of his lips twitch so slightly upward, he doubted she could see it though. Whether the smile was from the kiss, or from her words, no one could say. “I’m not sure its Brigantia I should be praying to, something tells me my doing such could only make things worse…someone that pure wants nothing to do with me.” His words were a sardonic mutter as he swung his legs up and prepared to launch them into the current.

As she tightened her grip, and indicated her readiness he let go with his hand and planting his booted feet on the rock shoved them out and into the current. He adjusted his body so he would cut through the water as best he could, hoping the added drag of rhonwhyn wouldn’t hinder progress.

Rhonwhyn could feel his every muscle tensed under her, in the position they were in, her feminine core was pressed to his abdomen, whose muscles were tight as a board, providing her a stable platform to lie against. He had opted to do this on his back, doing his best to keep her out of the water. Waves continued to splash over her, but for the most part she remained out of the water, save for her arms and legs.

Taurean could sense the edge approaching, could feel the water becoming more shallow as they neared the edge, the water transforming from a deep channel to a wide fan of falls, the water running over a smooth lip of eroded stone, pounded by thousands and thousands of gallons of water.

Taurean’s muscles tightened even farther. He would have one chance for this to work. He could feel his back slam into the rock bottom before the water tried to carry them up away from the rock ledge he desperately needed. He couldn’t just let them flow head first over the falls on top of the water, he somehow needed to launch himself outward.

Luck was with them as the wave they were riding crested and they were dropped again towards the bottom. Taurean took a deep breath and purposefully let himself go under the water, taking Rhonwhyn with him and sincerely hoping they would come up again.

Taurean could feel the backs of his hands scraping over rock and then nothing. The nothing skimmed down his body. Shoulders, where the stone lip brushed Rhonwhyn’s hands. Then then down to where he had curled up his legs. Taurean’s entire body flexed with the shove as he slammed his boots down onto the rock lip changing their trajectory into out and down rather than just down.

Suddenly they came free of the water, its pounding fury reduced to a wave of chilling mist. Taurean had to admit those first few seconds were frightening as he waited, holding his breath, waiting for the jagged rocks to tare through his body, and impaling him on their unyielding fury. However the expected end did not come and they lived for a few more precious seconds.

Taurean began to angle his body, using in air acrobatics to angle his body in a smooth arc, turning their fall into a back dive into the water, or so he hoped. Again, he had no way to know if they would miss the rocks at the bottom until they hit. Call it luck, call it the goddess, call it Taurean’s skill, but they did not hit rock; they impacted the surface of the pool, their elongated shape cutting its waters like a knife. The impact was jarring but they had achieved an angle that meant they did not strike the surface flat on, a proposition that could have broken bones. Even so their momentum drove them deep under the water.

The impact pealed Rhonwhyn from Brandon like the rind off an orange. However he was able to catch her around the chest with one strong arm once again, towing her towards the surface as he kicked towards fresh air, his lungs beginning to burn with the need for oxygen.

Breaking the surface Taurean gasped for air, his legs working to tread water as he pulled Rhonwhyn up as well his arm still locked solidly around her, like a band of steal around her front, pressing into her breasts and pressing her back into his chest. Despite the location, there was clearly nothing sexual about the way he held her, it was simply a way to keep her up while they both tried to catch their breaths. Taurean allowed himself one brief second of relaxation, his forehead pressing into her back, nestling in the nest of sodden curls as he fought for air. They were hardly out of the woods yet, but for that single stolen handful of heartbeats they were safe.

The water was freezing, like a thousand teeth gnawing and biting at her tender flesh as she tightly held onto Brandon. Rhonwhyn could feel the current getting stronger, the roar of the falls getting louder and she knew the inevitable would soon be upon them both. Bracing herself, her tiny frame trying to stay close to her new guardian, she clamped her blue eyes shut and inhaled deeply what she was sure would be her final breath.

The wind was nearly as loud as the falls as they finally launched over the edge after a final plunge beneath the icy waters of the rough flowing river. Whether it was the work of the Brigantia or the interference of the Fates, Rhonwhyn hardly knew. But she knew she owed the moment and her life to this man who held her tightly as the winds rushed and howled in her ears and the water from the mists and spray engulfed them both as they plummeted to what seemed their death.

The moment they struck the water below, Rhonwhyn felt her body pull sharply away from Brandon. Desperately, she tried to reach for him, her small hands stretching in vain as her body felt slow and encumbered. Suddenly, a strong, warm arm wrapped itself about her body and pulled her close. Without hesitation, as if a moth called to the flame, its gossamer wings spreading as if beckoned to welcome the heat, she moved in Brandon's direction. She couldn't see him and had to trust him to pull her where she needed to be, her legs kicking to help make things easier.

Coughing, sputtering, Rhonwhyn could finally feel herself against her new guardian. His heat and weight as he held her against him was most comforting. Her own hand came up and held onto his as held onto her, keeping her afloat as they bobbed in the frigid waters. Turning slightly, her pale eyes sought his.

"Th-thank you," Rhonwhyn chattered, her alabaster flesh breaking out into goose bumps as they floated in the pool of water at the base of the falls. She then glanced up and finally about them both. With the sky still being dark, she couldn't see overly much, but she knew one thing—she was cold. So terribly cold. "D-do you kn-know where w-we are?" she then asked in a soft voice, not wanting to complain about how cold she was. After all, they'd just been through so much, narrowly escaping who knew what with their lives... and who was to say if they were even safe where they were. Wherever they were.

Rhonwhyn certainly had no idea where they were now, though she could tell it was far from Belbarren. But how far? Her grip tightened about Brandon's arm and she suddenly shifted and twisted her body so that she could look into his eyes even though it was difficult to see. When she finally faced him, her body pressed against his, she took a moment to catch her breath. Her heart was pounding hard as she shivered and chattered, her lips no doubt turning bluish from being cold.

"D-do you th-think we're s-safe?" Rhonwhyn then asked her voice barely whisper. As she spoke, she dared touch his face with her one hand, a bold move she knew. And as quickly as she touched him, she pulled it away. Licking her lips, she then waited for Brandon to answer her question. It was the one question she feared the answer to.

Swallowing hard, Rhonwhyn said a quick and silent prayer to Ember—one filled with hope to see the light of dawn, to hear the birds of early morning, one that they'd somehow make it through the night unscathed and in one piece.