Myra looked out past the borders of Shiradin, and saw mountains. The mountains that practically surrounded one whole side of the dwarven stringhold, Mightaf Dvergur. How nice it would be, to carelessly travel past those mountains, Myra thought. She knew it was a childish dream. By the time she was eighteen she would be wed to some pompous man and never see what was past those mountains. Myra couldn't help but feel as if she belonged somewhere else though. Somewhere past those mountains, maybe in an elven city. She had dreamed of meeting elves since she was a child. Myra had heard tales that elves existed, the dwarves that occasionally visited Shiradin had told her them. Maybe that was all they were; tales and nothing more.

Myra hoped not. As the people below her in the town began to scurry around she realized that she would have to go back and start her chores.

"Those stupid monotonous chores," Myra mumbled as she headed down the hill, away from her dreams and into reality.

Kal's eyelids were getting heavier. A combination of the sips of ale he'd been sneaking from under the counter and sheer exhaustion were finally taking their respective tolls. He would have to up and leave relatively soon... but, still, it wasn't actually late enough to chuck everybody out yet - if he did, it would be another job down the drain - and there was still the odd drunkard lounging across a rickety table. Or two, in some rather plumper cases.

He cleaned the same glass that he'd been cleaning for the past half hour again. There was nothing else to do, and the meagre work had forced him into taking pleasure in the most simple of simple things. Perhaps, this time, the damned thing would be rid of the grease that had accumulated over its long life.

He sighed. The wind was up again; he would be hard-pressed to find somewhere to pitch his tent now, even in the sheltered parts of the city. He couldn't ask for another room again, not tonight. That would be pushing it. The poor man who ran the "Biggie" - so nicknamed for the quirky measure of one and six-sevenths that the tankards held in the tavern - put him up every now and again, but with a family to feed and house, Kal was really just an annoyance.

The eighteen-year-old fingered the hilt of the sword underneath the counter. It wasn't anything special to look at, but it was long and sharp, and in the right hands it was deadly. It was also worth a great deal more than a year's worth of Kal's regular earnings; previously belonging to his older brother, the metal hadn't rusted in its three hundred years of existance, and it was still as easy to weild as ever. Not that that made a difference to Kal; his swordsmanship wasn't exactly refined. He couldn't swing without missing something... and cutting off something else. He'd lost his fingers more than once, and hadn't that cost him a pretty penny to fix.

"Stupid mages," he muttered, returning to his now-showing-promises-of-cleanliness glass.

"ale," he said tossing a a few coins on the counter.

Filling a tankard, he stole another few glances at the stranger. He was probably at least twice Kal's eighteen years, but beyond that he couldn't be sure. He certainly wasn't a face that you'd *definitely* remember... but Kal was sure that he hadn't been given the chance to try.

"Don't think I've seen you here before." It was neither question nor statement, but Kal hoped the man would respond; along with being bored stiff, a decent conversation was usually a good way to stop somebody from drinking themselves into a trance.

As discreetly as possible, Kal ran a finger along the edge of the sword... again. It was... comforting, somehow.

He pushed the now-full tankard towards the newcomer, before resuming his work of cleaning the glass.

"Apologies," Kal offered, quietly, taking the new coin and twirling it around his fingers lazily. "Don't get many in here whose drink is for pleasure rather than... intoxication." Neither did he serve many who carried such money, but this particular thought was not voiced.

Kal set the new tankard, with the 'good ale', before the newcomer. Who was this stanger? Kal pondered as he stowed the old tankard - still full - below the bar and out of sight. Somebody was bound to want some cheap booze sooner or later, and it would be a shame to let it go to waste.

Once again, Kal stroked the shinless hilt of his sword with a finger, before, once again, picking up a now nearly-clean glass.

He was interrupted for a moment as a drunken, foul-smelling man staggered over to the bar. Before he could even request a drink, Xaul's old tankard was in his hands and two bronze coins in Kal's.

"As for the ale..." Kal started, but trailed off. He looked at the barrel from which the drink had been taken. It was the same as the other one, but slightly smaller, which was the only clue he had as to its origins. "Honestly, I don't have a clue. Never had any of it. As far as I'm concerned, it smells different and that's where the road stops."

Another fleeting finger on the hilt.

Kal looked directly at Xaul for the first time. "May I ask, why would he who is used to Lords' drink find themselves in here? Rooms are full, by the way, in case you missed the sign."

"As to the 'lord' comment, well... let's just say that not all of the people that have fed and clothed me over the years have known about it. After all," Xaul chuckled, winking at his new aquaintaince, "the best spices are danger and daring, now aren't they? Now get those drinks, you need to learn about the finer things in life."

With that Xaul sat back and stared at Kal expectantly, while emptying the contents of the drunk's purse that he had lifted quietly into one of the many pockets of his battered coat.

The moment he did, he was torn between wishing he hadn't and wishing he'd done so long before. Xaul was right; the other stuff was genuinely synonymous of horse ** in comparison. "Damn you," he muttered, smiling - slightly facetiously - and turning his eyes to those of the older man. "You've forever ruined one of the few perks of the job - cheap drink."

He took a few more small, silent swallows. "So, Xaul. What brings you to this part of the city?"

Suddenly, the door slammed open, and a gigantic brute of a man stomped into the inn. "Xaul Knofker! I want my money, now!" As the ogre screamed, he drew a large club and swung it meanacingly.

"Ah, sheitmonks," Xaul muttered, turning to the intruder. "Look, Telle, I already paid you back, with interest I might add."

"Yeah, but you used my father's money to do it!" with that, Telle lunged forward, demolishing the stool that Xaul vacated just in time.

"Sorry about that, Kal. He'll pay for that," Xaul said, drawing two Katars out of the depths of his coat. "This is something I should have dealt with." Xaul's eyes narrowed, and he smiled unpleasantly as he spun forward to clash with Telle.

((Xaul's fighting style is very acrobatic, always moving and spinning, constantly landing light hits on his opponent. Just a heads up!!))

He grabbed his sword.

Although, to be honest, he wasn't planning on using it - he'd probably hurt the wrong people, kill himself, and let the latest new face walk free. But, if needs be...

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw several of the less drunken men - and one woman - stand, seemingly prepared to fight, for some reason he couldn't quite fathom.

"Out the back!" he ordered sharply. Not only the standees, but the entire contents of the inn - excluding Xaul and the big man - marched military-style through the cellar door, presumably all the way into the street. But, before he had time to reflect on the rather odd phenomenon, he realised that a good ten seconds had passed since Xaul brought out his defense. Probably quite a long time under the circumstances.

He turned back to the commotion, prepared to jump over the bar. But, only if needs be...

((*grins* I've been waiting for a random chance to showcase Kal's accidental magic. Yay. :D))

"What now?"

At Xaul's words, the injured Telle grinned. "I knew that a rat like you would fight when corned, so I brought a few 'exterminators' along. Have fun in Hell!"

Five heavily armed men charged through the door, moving to surround Xaul. Knowing he was about to die, Xaul resolved to die well, although he would have liked to know where Telle had gotten the cash to hire this many mercenaries.

Letting out a brutal battlecry, Xaul rushed forward, throwing as many knives as he could at the men, praying that one would find a hole in their armor. Xaul's eyes were bright as he fought what he was sure was his last battle...

'Rather dishonourable,' Kal commented to himself. 'Six on one. Or two...'

Holding the hilt of his longsword in both hands, Kal steeled himself for his seemingly inevitable end. One deep, shaking breath. Then another, more stable. He stepped into an attacking position... and pounced!

Half a second later, he realised that his blade had gone right through the back of one of their necks, having sneaked under his armour. Half a second after that, he realised that he himself was no longer a forgotten shape in the corner.

The heavy lump slipped from his sword, and he turned in terror to face the next attacker.

"Look Out," Xaul shouted, spinning and launching another three throwing knives which embedded themselves in the ear, shoulder, and hand of the mercenary who had been about to stab Kal in the back. Xaul flipped over to Kal, placing a slight wound on Telle's arm as he passed.

"Hold still, blast it!" Telle was panting, out of breath from the pain and from chasing Xaul around the inn several times. He glared at the two remaining mercenaries. "Well? Kill them!" As he spoke, he unslung a crossbow from his back and took aim at Xaul.

"Ah, crap. Kal," Xaul muttered without taking his eyes off Telle, "I'm all out of throwing knives. Any ideas as to how to survive this? If you can take Telle, I'll drop his nursemaids."

There was a thud as Kal's shoulder met Telle's stomach, and the two crashed to the floor. Kal jumped up, prepared to (try to) end it, but there wasn't any need: Telle had hit his head on the bar and was seemingly unconcious, both club and crossbow strewn across the floor.

Kal turned back to Xaul, expecting a similiar, if slightly bloodier scene.

Turning, Xaul sheathed his katars, and rushed over to Telle, who was moaning and beginning to stir. Allowing the wave of rage that he was floating on to carry him, Xaul picked up the much larger Telle as if he weighed nothing, and began brutally beating him, screaming at him for information about how he had found Xaul, where he got the cash to hire mercenaries, and why he had thought that he could get away whith this. All the while, blood flew into the air, and still Xaul rode his personal hurricane of berzerker rage...

((Sorry about the delay. I've been dealing with an ISP change and holiday stuff, but now i'm back!))

He was distracted by a noise from up the stairs. The owner of the inn, no doubt, come to sort the commotion...

Several things became clear to Kal in one instant: there were many bloodied, dead men lying around, their innards coating the floor; the old man was going to get down there in less than ten seconds; there was a powerful mage only a few streets away - he could be called within a minute, and if he were, both Kal and Xaul were dead men.

Xaul didn't seem to be taking anything but his incadescent rage into account.

Quickly, Kal brought out his second most treasured possesion after his sword: a tiny bag, the size of his palm, which could fit infinite things inside it. Hopefully taking the older man by surprise, he elbowed Xaul out of the way, before scooping Telle into the bag with surprising ease. He grabbed his sword and bolted into the streets of Shiradin - whether Xaul would follow to retrive Telle he was uncertain.

((It's fine :D And merry Christmas!))

Seeing Kal lurking in an alleyway, Xaul rushed up to him, noticing gladly that his coat had already begun to shed the blood that had soaked into it. "Look, Kal, I'm sorry, but I think that you might no longer be welcome in the city. I was thinking... well, I need a companion on the road, and you need a place to go... I could teach you how to fight and all that good stuff, too. If you want to come along, then let's grab what you need and head to where I stashed my things. What do you say?"

((Xaul Moves through a city by way of the rooftops whenever possible, so you might want to mention this...))

A miniscule movement inside his bag distracted him. He plucked the object from his belt, and opened it. Telle probably wouldn't be very comfortable in there. In fact, Kal remembered, he might be suffocating... there was an awful lot of junk circulating inside it.

He plunged his arm up to his shoulder into the pocket-sized carrier. "If you can promise me something to send home to Ketrin," he said, rumaging around, brushing what felt like some raw meat and a broken egg, "then by all means... but I have to support my family."

He pulled a scabbard from the bag - it was in the way. "But I have to warn you-" his fingers closed around Telle's large wrist "-that you may have your work cut out." Two arms emerged from the bag: Telle's and his own. "The last time I tried anything... particularly... spectacular," he panted, heaving out the heavy man, "I... cut off my whole hand."

Telle popped out of the bag and on to the ground, moving only slightly, taking with him a whole heap of rubbish (including what may have once been part of Kal's magically regrown hand, courtesy of a rather pricey mage). Kal looked at him, before lifting his eyes to Xaul's. "What do you want to do with him?"

"There, that should do," said Xaul sitting back and imagining the indignity that Telle would suffer. Turning, he tossed Kal Telle's belt pouch (which he slipped another gold coin into) and weapons. "Since you saved his life, these are yours. I wouldn't have wanted his death on my consience anyways. Consider that your first payment. As to your ineptitude with a weapon (which was rather clear), I think I can beat that out of you. But listen," commanded Xaul, holding up a hand as he saw Kal begin to agree to the propisition, "there's something you should know, first. I'm a thief. I have honor, and will never steal from one who needs it more. But if you're someone who loves the law enough to ignore the sight of some rich bastard trampling the poor and sick, then go back to your pathetic life.

"But if you want to 'adjust' the Karma of some people, then let's get your stuff and we'll have your first lesson in fighting. What do you say?"

"Screw law," he finished, his tone losing its softness. "It's made by the rich, for the rich, and without consult of anybody else."

He grinned at Xaul. "We off, then? I already have everything I own with me," he explained, patting his leather pouch.

((Random question: How tall is Xaul? I keep almost typing "looking down" or something similar... and then realising that I don't know which direction Kal's looking in at all :D))

As Kal came stumbling out of the woods, out of breath and covered with leaves, Xaul nodded at him. "Not bad. You move pretty well for a barkeep. Now,het out that sword of yours, and let's see how you can fight!"

When Xaul saw Kal hesitate, he sighed. "look, kid, there is no way that you can hit me, and I promise not to hit you, so let's do this."

((I updated the chara. page for Xaul, so if you need anything else, lemme know!))

Xaul seemed to misunderstand his hesitation. Reluctantly drawing his sword, he muttered, "It's more that I'll hit myself." Nevertheless, he cast one last look at his fourth finger on his left hand - the only one he hadn't cut off before - and leaned into a defensive stance. That much, at least, he knew.

He waited for Xaul to start.

((Thanks. :D))

"You're dead. Lesson one: try to ancipate my moves, not react to them." as Xaul spoke, he realeased Kal, allowing him to retrieve his weapon.

This time, Xaul manuvered Kal into a mano a mano. When Kal glared at him over their crossed blades, Xaul winked, and spit into Kal's eyes. while Kal tried desprately to clear his vision, Xaul kicked him in the inner thigh, making it clear that he could have hit Kal in the crotch.

"Lesson two: never fight fair. An honorable fighter was dead the minuite he touched his sword. Fight only to win."

Now Xaul backed off, allowing Kal time to think. When the youth began to move in Xaul's direction, Xaul threw the stones he had picked up off the ground. all five hit Kal in unprotected areas.

"Lesson three: always have an ace in the hole. if those had been any of my throwing knives, you'd be dead. Now, try to hit me. I won't attack.

The stones came out of absolutely nowhere. Kal found time - amongst the pain - to be proud of himself for not exclaiming aloud.

And then it was back to the pain.

"Lesson three: always have an ace in the hole. if those had been any of my throwing knives, you'd be dead. Now, try to hit me. I won't attack."

'Ha,' Kal thought, 'what an invitation.' Exactly how was he supposed to attempt to hit Xaul? He moved like a swallow, darting here and there and everywhere else, seemingly. He was so... quick!

Kal forced himself to think. Anticipate moves, don't fight fair, ace in the hole...

Knowing fully that Xaul would somehow tell exactly what he was about to do and stop it before it happened, Kal lunged forward, longsword slashing through the air. With his free hand, he pulled off his infinite-capacity pouch and tried to open it out sufficiently so as to fit Xaul's head inside it... and swept it round in the generally correct direction, bits of tent falling out of it.

Ducking easily under the sweeping bag, Xaul quickly closed in, blocking Kal's clumsy sword swing and diving back, giving the youth a chance at redemption.

Kal's next attempt was better, as he threw his bag directly at Xaul's face and charged in after. forced to block the projectile, Xaul had to exert himself a bit to avoid the blow from Kal's sword. 'Alright,' Xaul thought to himself, 'time to end this.'

Xaul flipped backward, but his feet had barely touched the ground when he rushed towards Kal, throwing himself into a dive that he transformed into a double leg sweep, knocking Kal off balance. surprised that Kal had managed to keep his footing, Xaul caught the balde of Kal's longsword in the V of a katar and twisted savagely, wrenching the weapon out of Kal's hands. while Kal was focused on the hand that had disarmed him, Xaul brought his other fist around in a powerful blow that would leave Kal out cold and with a firece headache, something that Kal did not notice until it was much too late.

Suddenly, the oddest sensation came upon him. A strange, icey-cold, liquid-like feeling ran straight through him, circulating his entire body. Everything was silent... dead silent, nothing he could ever remember experiencing before. He couldn't even hear himself, his breathing, his heartbeat... it was all silent. Just for a moment... but a moment was long enough.

There was a loud crack, and a blinding, blue-tinted light, coming from somewhere very nearby. The noise was all back, and he was extremely aware of the harsh whistling of the high winds amongst the branches above him, the hooting of owls, the rustling of tiny creatures between blades of grass. Everything was suddenly in tremendous focus, as though it was brand new to him.

The next thing he knew, he was sitting on the cold, hard ground, exhausted both mentally and physically, the former for reasons he still couldn't really fathom, staring at Xaul, who looked like he'd just been slammed into the tree behind him. In fact, the bark of tree itself appeared to be a little distressed, with bits flaking off it...

Kal was very confused. A moment ago - although it seemed like an hour - the thief had been wrenching his arm from his shoulder... and now he was on the complete other side of the clearing. One of his odd-shaped weapons - Kal didn't have a clue what they were called - was embedded in the ground a few inches from Kal's toes, and the other was still in his hand.

Kal was even more confused.

((Hope you don't mind the manipulation of Xaul. I tried to keep it to a minimum, but it was... fairly necessary.))

With that done, Xaul moved over to Kal, who was sitting in the middle of the clearing with a dazed look on his face. "C'mon, kid. Time to go." As he spoke, Xaul uncovered his small pack from its hiding place and checked it over, making sure that it had not been disturbed. "If the mage in that village of yours is worth anything, he'll have felt your little trick and be coming over here. Let's go, we'll talk about this on the way."

((Sorry about the delay, but i fell off the face of the planet, and it's taken me this long to climb back up.))

He was still confused.

Why had Xaul referred to the mage? Trick? Xaul was insinuating that Kal had used or performed some sort of magic. Which was absolutely preposterous. Several years of learning to read and write, dotted with random tests for such abilities, had proved Kal's incredible lack of talent for anything above knowing how to barter with a pricey practioneer to lower the cost of a new finger or two.

Kal heaved himself off the ground. He had little energy left in his limbs, and his mind was reeling. His head span, and before he knew it he was sitting on his rear again; his brain felt like a lead weight, determined to lay itself on the grass. He tried again, this time with more success.

He bent down to pick up his discarded sword. Slowly. Without tripping over air. When he had finally rightened himself - again, after a rather monumental metal and physical effort - he turned to Xaul, and said as audibly as he could: "Meh... huh? What?"

((Poor boy virtually knocked himself out. He's not used to expending so much energy so quickly :D))

Xaul limped over to Kal, and guided the glass of Lib to his lips. The much taller man was as weak as a kitten! Xaul quickly forced the fluid past Kal's lips, mercilessly holding Kal's moulth shut until he swallowed all the potion. Laying Kal on the ground, Xaul quicky stepped back and waited as Kal's body went into convulsions as the Kynda Lib took effect. Hearing Kal moan, Xaul Grabbed both packs and prepared to move. "Come on, kid. The pain'll leave faster if you're moving. Time to go." With that, Xaul left, knowing Kal would follow.

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