Runeology

[Apostledanub]

The tale I am about to tell has all but been forgotten. The denizens of this world have forgotten what cursed power have brought them to the brink of complete annihilation. Perhaps this was supposed to happen, because they cannot bear the memories of the terrible atrocities committed by the 'blessed one' of Nihluk, the God of the Dead, and wanted to forget...

Riak...

He is the subject of an ancient prophecy that, fortunately, did not come to happen. The King of the Dead was supposed to 'cleanse' the world of all the living. For all eternity, the undead would be the only creatures who would travel this world, removing everything else. All nations, so diverse and glorious today, would become the same. There would be no such thing as 'different'. The world, as we know it, would become barren, the very epitome of all what is dead.

This powerful lich would have succeeded if it was not for Ciel, the Guardian of Life, for he vanquished Riak and banished his soul from this world, leaving him no way to affect this world in any manner. Left without their leader, the undead were lost, as Riak acted as their consciousness. Without him, they were nothing. Riak destroyed the souls of these mindless husks when they were still their former selves, and reanimated them, to serve him until the end of time without question. Their consciousness gone, they were utterly crushed by the united forces of Cinnabor, the Great Empire of the North, and the Londar tribe of the warrior nation of Loran.

However, this was but a minor setback for the King of the Dead, as his soul still lingers on. Riak is plotting his return into the world. What better time to strike than when your enemies have forgotten about you?

Death is upon us...

The world is divided into three parts. First, we have the Great Empire of the North, Cinnabor. The people of this empire have a great legacy, and have worked hard to secure their current position in the world, fighting off many invasions by nations lost in history. Severely weakened by their failed invasions, the neighbouring nations of Cinnabor were ripe for the taking, and were all incorporated into their vast empire. However, not all of the world answers to the Emperor...

How could one forget the courageous tribesmen of the lands to the south, Loran? The warriors of Loran are no stranger to war, as it is a part of life in the tribes. And quite a large one at that. Men and women alike undergo rigorous training as soon as they can hold a weapon. No nation in the history on this world has brought forth as strong or skilled a soldier as the tribes of Loran. The Cinnaborians are grateful for the fact that the Lorans only view their own people as their enemies, for they could have overrun their empire countless times, or every other nation at that. However, such is their culture that the tribes only care about who has the strongest warriors. As a result, the tribes of Loran are locked in a near-constant war. Alliances only last for a month, or even a for a few weeks. They do not trust anybody but their own tribe (Just picture the ancient Spartans and their way of life).

To the west of the Cinnabor Empire is the Western Wilderness. These barren lands are home to wicked creatures, freaks of nature, and cults, the most prominent among them the Word of Nihluk, of which Riak was a former member. No outsider dares travel into the Wilderness, lest they get eaten by the rich fauna of predators, or there is also the possibility that they get found by a cult. What happens next... you simply do not want to know.

Centuries after the famous clash between Riak and Ciel, the King of the Dead has finally found a 'worthy' pawn to prepare for his return to this world...

[Apostledanub]

SETTING:

This story takes place in the classic age of the Middle Ages, though on a fictional world, with magic added into the fray. So I would appreciate it if you keep Final Fantasy-like stuff out of this RP. However, unlike in the real world, gunpowder has been discovered, so you can give your character the most primitive guns to work with.

BIO:

NAME:

AGE:

PROFESSION:

APPEARANCE:

LOCATION (you are free to shape this world together with me, but stick to the base I have provided, please):

PERSONAL HISTORY:

PERSONALITY:

WEAPON(S):

ABILITIES (no overpoweredness):

CURRENT BIOS:

Name: Cale Bloodfyre (AKA Classik, in his tribe.)

Profession: A master thief, but he's also a master of poisons.

Age: 26

Appearance (I'll probably draw him sometime soon ): Half the time, he wears a medieval gas mask (Gaw, I don't know what a medieval gas mask looks like, but his has the same concept as a regular old gas mask, despite the fact they weren't invented back then :x) he constructed for himself. His mahogany-colored hair is an incredible mess. But somehow it manages to stay down, instead of sticking out in all directions. It hangs over his face. His skin is a bit tan, since Cale likes to steal during the day, and cause a ruckus. He doesn't wear a shirt, for whatever reason. Cale's torso is covered with tribal designs along with his family crest tattooed on his back. Cale wears ragged black pants, held together with a belt. His belt consists of several poisonous tools and gas bombs. He makes everyone of them himself. He wears boots for shoes. Cale also wears fingerless, leather gaunts that's equipped with who knows what. Cale also sports a messenger bag or a small belt-pouch which he uses to hold his stolen items.

Location: A flat above a metal blacksmith in Cinnabor. The blacksmith's pretty good friends with Cale, so he lets him stay in his building, despite he's a wanted thief.

Personal History: Cale was raised in Loran, in a tribe of ruthless, barbaric rogues. Each of them were given a name to go by, so it'd be harder to get caught by the authorities. Cale never liked their ways, as they murdered whoever prevented them from achieving their success. They destroyed homes and burned everything when they finished the job. It just wasn't the life for Cale. Thanks to them, he knew how to escape his family's clutches, and he managed to cripple anyone that tried to stop them with his homemade poison. Cale decided to continue his life as a thief in Cinnabor, the wealthy empire. Cale's been known to steal several valuable trinkets and heaping amounts of money. It wouldn't be surprising if Cale was one of the best thieves in Cinnabor.

Personality: Cale's...not really the fighting type. He doesn't really like to fight, but he loves running and moving about. Cale hates to stand still. He doesn't like fighting because he doesn't like taking the effort. He's a tad lazy, and he feels that fighting is harder than running, or free-running. He's observant, and quick to move. Cale is a bit immature, but he knows where to put his respect.

Typically, Cale would choose to just hang, if he had nothing to do. But he does whatever he needs to do if he really REALLY has to. So he's your typical lazy, not-so-serious, completely underestimated thief.

Abilities: As a thief/rogue, he's an incredible free-runner, and he's a bit faster than your average man. Cale knows how to fight, too, he just doesn't use his combat skills often. His family taught him to be the tribe's apothecary, so not only does Cale know a number of poisons, he knows a number of elixirs and other helpful potions.

Weapon: Whatever he has up his sleeves. Or belt. upon his belt are several poisoned needles, gas pellets, smoke bombs, and anything else that has to do with poison. His gauntlets, on the other hand...Well he likes to change their features from time to time, so it ranges from spewing rope, to blades or claws.

[Apostledanub]

NAME: Vernan Firestone

PROFESSION: Spellcaster

AGE: 71

APPEARANCE: His hair has been coloured gray due to his age, but you can find some black here and there. His long mage robes are mainly red, which adds to the fiery aura surrounding this mysterious man, and made from the finest silk. Around his chest and his legs, his robes are coloured white, with a line of red crossing those parts vertically in the middle. The backside is decorated with a fiery-looking flame.

LOCATION: The Emperor's palace in Cinnabor

PERSONAL HISTORY: Vernan hails from a rural village on the southwestern border. Because the villagers did not trust the Lorans, and because the Western Wilderness was uncomfortably close by, all villagers were trained in some form of self-defense. Though they couldn't possibly best a raid party of Lorans, or an attack by Wilderness creatures, it made them feel safe. Because Vernan wasn't particularly adept at handling weapons, he tried practising magic. It would seem that he was very talented, and his fame grew over the years. Tales of his abilities, impossible feats and wisdom reached even the Emperor, and he contacted Vernan. How could he ignore a mighty fire mage who has managed to save his village from a fierce dragon from the Wilderness? Vernan joined the Emperor's court, serving as a magic instructor for the military, and the palace's source of wisdom.

PERSONALITY: Vernan is an observer, and will speak with strangers only if he deems it necessary, or if somebody needs some good advice. Though, in private, he opens up, and he can't stop telling stories about his village and what he has managed to accomplish in his life. Vernan will never insult somebody, and respects his enemies. He has won fights just by not underestimating the enemy, and preparing himself adequately. To strangers, he seems pretty severe, but to people he knows, he is very friendly.

WEAPON: Vernan channels his power through an enchanted obsidian staff. As obsidian is a type of volcanic glass, Vernan figured there is no better material for fire magic staves. As a result of the enchantments placed on the staff, his spells pack more of a punch. To fit the rest of his outfit, the head of the staff is a flame, similarly shaped like the flame on the back of his robes.

ABILITIES: Vernan is a pretty accomplished fire mage, rumoured to be peerless. He is able to do about all imaginable things with fire, like conjuring perfectly round circles around an enemy, or group of enemies, preventing them from escaping, forming huge and long walls of fire, releasing fiery rings of fire when he is surrounded, creating an animated dragon-like flame, and of course, the simple ball of fire. Also, he has mastered the art of teleporting, but because of his old age, it isn't as easy as it formerly was, as teleporting requires quite a bit of concentration and energy.

[midget948]

OOC: Ah, but where are teh weapons sections in the bio?

You could make a video game out of this story

Name: Cale Bloodfyre (AKA Classik, in his tribe.)

Profession: A master thief, but he's also a master of poisons.

Age: 26

Appearance (I'll probably draw him sometime soon

): Half the time, he wears a medieval gas mask (Gaw, I don't know what a medieval gas mask looks like, but his has the same concept as a regular old gas mask, despite the fact they weren't invented back then :x) he constructed for himself. His mahogany-colored hair is an incredible mess. But somehow it manages to stay down, instead of sticking out in all directions. It hangs over his face. His skin is a bit tan, since Cale likes to steal during the day, and cause a ruckus. He doesn't wear a shirt, for whatever reason. Cale's torso is covered with tribal designs along with his family crest tattooed on his back. Cale wears ragged black pants, held together with a belt. His belt consists of several poisonous tools and gas bombs. He makes everyone of them himself. He wears boots for shoes. Cale also wears fingerless, leather gaunts that's equipped with who knows what. Cale also sports a messenger bag or a small belt-pouch which he uses to hold his stolen items.

Location: A flat above a metal blacksmith in Cinnabor. The blacksmith's pretty good friends with Cale, so he lets him stay in his building, despite he's a wanted thief.

Personal History: Cale was raised in Loran, in a tribe of ruthless, barbaric rogues. Each of them were given a name to go by, so it'd be harder to get caught by the authorities. Cale never liked their ways, as they murdered whoever prevented them from achieving their success. They destroyed homes and burned everything when they finished the job. It just wasn't the life for Cale. Thanks to them, he knew how to escape his family's clutches, and he managed to cripple anyone that tried to stop them with his homemade poison. Cale decided to continue his life as a thief in Cinnabor, the wealthy empire. Cale's been known to steal several valuable trinkets and heaping amounts of money. It wouldn't be surprising if Cale was one of the best thieves in Cinnabor.

Personality: Cale's...not really the fighting type. He doesn't really like to fight, but he loves running and moving about. Cale hates to stand still. He doesn't like fighting because he doesn't like taking the effort. He's a tad lazy, and he feels that fighting is harder than running, or free-running. He's observant, and quick to move. Cale is a bit immature, but he knows where to put his respect.

Typically, Cale would choose to just hang, if he had nothing to do. But he does whatever he needs to do if he really REALLY has to. So he's your typical lazy, not-so-serious, completely underestimated thief.

Abilities: As a thief/rogue, he's an incredible free-runner, and he's a bit faster than your average man. Cale knows how to fight, too, he just doesn't use his combat skills often. His family taught him to be the tribe's apothecary, so not only does Cale know a number of poisons, he knows a number of elixirs and other helpful potions.

Weapon: Whatever he has up his sleeves. Or belt. upon his belt are several poisoned needles, gas pellets, smoke bombs, and anything else that has to do with poison. His gauntlets, on the other hand...Well he likes to change their features from time to time, so it ranges from spewing rope, to blades or claws.

[Apostledanub]

Approved.

QUOTE (midget948 @ Jul 21 2008, 04:49 AM) [snapback]5763[/snapback]

You could make a video game out of this story

That a compliment?

-----------------------

Rankor, tribal leader of the ancient Londar tribe that helped vanquish the King of the Dead ages ago, was seated in the grand wooden throne in the Elder Hall. He looked at the plain flat wooden ceiling of the hall while he was contemplating the everyday business of tribal life. The Londar tribe was no ordinary tribe. They are most easily the most ancient tribe in all of Loran, and the rest of the tribes feared them. Only a few times have other tribes attacked the Londars, and every single time, the invaders were crushed. Never have they lost a battle (not counting the invasion of the world by the King of the Dead). Life in Loran would be significantly different if the Londar tribe were aggressive, but fortunately, they are surprisingly peaceful.

The Elder Hall is pretty small, as it is only used for Gatherings of the Elders. Still, it is decorated heavily, as a rich and ancient tribe as the Londars can certainly afford it. Leafgreen carpets covered the wooden floor, and on each of them, different animals of strength and valour are depicted. Heads of lions, deer and minotaurs were carefully fixed against the walls, as a testimony to the amazing strength of the heroes who slew those grand beasts. In the middle of the hall stood small, plain wooden chairs with four legs, meant for the Elders to sit on during a Gathering.

Rankor's train of thought was broken by a spy who came bursting into the hall. He quickly ran towards the throne on which Rankor was sitting, and knelt. The spy took a moment to catch his breath. Rankor said nothing and just stared at the spy, wondering what would be so important for him to disturb the tribal leader.

Finally, the spy spoke, trying to keep his voice under control: "Blessed Leader, you asked me to spy on the Sinan tribe in the west, and I have come to tell what has happened. One of their villages, the one I happened to reside in, has been raided a cult of necromancers. I, myself, have barely managed to escape with my own life. I have seen all of the villagers' corpses being carried away by the wicked monsters... no one survived."

Rankor was greatly disturbed by this news. Since the defeat of Riak at the hands of Ciel, the necromancer cults of the Western Wilderness had been thought disbanded, and now they have attacked the Sinans, of all people, renowned for their savage strength, even among the Lorans. For a while, he was searching for reasons behind this attack. The spy was still waiting for a response.

"Bring me paper, ink and a quill. Quickly."

The Londar tribe recognized the value of communication by letter, and today, they are the only tribe to have learned writing. As swiftly as he could, the spy went looking for materials with which to write, and brought them to Rankor. The tribal leader wrote this letter:

Hail, great Emperor of the Cinnabor Empire,

A spy has reported necromancer activity in the west of Loran. A whole village has been slaughtered, and their corpses are nowhere to be found. My agent claims that he has seen their corpses being carried away by the necromancers. We both know what this means, great Lord. The necromancer cults are up to something, and that can't be in our best interests. I recommend reinforcing the borders of your empire. We must prepare for battle.

These are the words of Rankor, leader of the Londar tribe.

"Carry this message to the Cinnabor Empire capital. See to it that this message gets delivered to the emperor as swiftly as possible."

Solemnly, the spy answered: "Yes, blessed leader."

As he saw the spy exit the Elder Hall, Rankor thought: We are in for trouble...

[midget948]

OOC: Hurrr, i drew him :3 --> http://i255.photobucket.com/albums/hh122/c...oodfyrecopy.jpg

"HEY! COME BACK HERE!" The obese butcher cried as Cale jumped off of his meat stand and onto roof tops, escaping with pounds of meat in his arms.

"Haha, catch me first!" Cale laughed as he ran. He jumped several buildings until he was a long distance away. Cale dropped down into a narrow alley, nearly landing on a rat. "Shit..." He cursed. The narrow alley went deeper into the tangle of buildings, and eventually stretched into a wider pathway. Cale followed this pathway up to a very red brick building. He climbed the bricks that poked out from the building, and slithered into the slightly open window. Which was two stories up.

"Jesus, gotta clean up this room..." Cale told himself as he entered his bedroom, he kicked several books, papers and glass trinkets out of the way. He could hear the clanking of the blacksmith's hammer, which was one of two downsides of living in this place, the clanking, and the immense heat from the furnace. Cale walked to the flat's small kitchen, creaking the weak floorboards with his boots. He wrapped his stolen food in animal skin, and stored it in his pantry of other stolen goods, vegetables, fruits, pastry...

"Cale, Cale!" The blacksmith called from downstairs. Cale turned his head. "What's all this ruckus outside, huh?" He yelled. Cale exited the kitchen and swiftly slid down the railing of the stairs.

"Nuthin' important. The fat butcher down on McArthur is probably yellin' and complainin'. Bet they're lookin' fer me." Cale casually said as he took a seat at the table in the corner of the room, meant for customers who waited for their products. He put his feet on the table and leaned in his chair.

"Geez, Cale, why do you keep stealing from that guy? You know how persistent he is."

"He's got the best meat around." Cale simply answered.

[Apostledanub]

The Emperor sighed. "For the last time, Baron Variss, I will not give you Baron Fungdren's lands!"

Baron Variss's unique throbbing vein on his head began doing what it does best. Seething with anger, he almost yelled at the Emperor: "But we both know what an incompetent pig he is! All he does is eat and sleep and ordering his people around! I will treat them better! I simply NEED those lands!"

Now it was the Emperor's turn to lash out: "I will have nothing of this nonsense, Variss! Return to your own lands, before I have you executed!"

Variss seemed to calm down. Slowly, he stepped towards the doors of the throne room. Before he exited, he turned around to face the Emperor again. "I swear... you will regret this." Then, he got out of the Emperor's sight.

--------------

The spy took no time to gaze upon the magnificent palace of Cinnabor's capital. The Lorans are almost never distracted from their business. Because he didn't know the way around, he asked a guard, and as quickly as possible, he made his way to the throne room. A palace guard, wearing very heavy armour, decorated with a lion's face, stopped him when the spy attempted to enter the throne room. "What do you want?"

The spy showed the guard the message he was carrying, and simply pointed at Rankor's name. The guard immediately apologized, and allowed him to enter the throne room.

This time, the spy could not help but be in awe. The walls were made out of the whitest marble he had ever seen, in a strange contrast to the dark walls of the rest of the palace, made out of ordinary stone. A bright light fell through the small, but numerous windows, and because those windows were all different shapes, the light created the most beautiful patterns on the floor. Countless rugs covered the walls, carrying the famous symbol of the Cinnabor Empire: a roaring lion. The throne itself was grand, and painted a dark red. Yellow roaring tigers decorated the sides of the throne.

The Loran decided he had enough of this sight-seeing, and stepped towards the Emperor. "A letter from Rankor, Leader of the Londar Tribe."

While the Emperor was reading the letter, the spy could read his worries. When the Emperor was done, he let out a sigh, and said: "There are dark times before us... you!"

The guard who the Emperor was speaking to jumped. He nervously answered: "Yes, my liege!"

"Call Vernan!"

"Yes, my liege!"

The Emperor turned his head towards the spy again. "Dismissed." The spy calmly walked outside. The sight of the villagers being slaughtered by the necromancers shocked him at first, but now, he is eager for battle. How can you be a Loran if you do not crave battle?

The Emperor, on the contrary, was worrying. I hope the necromancers are not up to what we think they're up to...

[midget948]

"Welp, I'ma go running." Cale said as his boots made a thunk on the ground. By running, he means free-running all over the city, which is what he does just about everyday. He waved to the blacksmith and walked out the door, the bell ringing as he closed it. The moment he stepped outside, Cale jumped up to grab a hold of the rod that held the sign that said "Rurik's Metal Shop", and jumped again to grab onto the metal rod that stuck out of the building to hold the lantern. From there, Cale was able to step onto the first story window, then latch onto the third-floor window from there. Cale then jumped to the rooftop of the shop.

All morning, Cale jumped over buildings, jumped through merchant stands, looped in and out of rooms containing unsuspecting citizens, and other juvenile tricks around the city. Of course he wasn't caught. There's just about a ton of freaks who do the same thing, but Cale was probably the only one who did it more than anyone. Good thing Cale was near impossible to catch.

[Apostledanub]

OOC: 'Rurik's Metal Shop', eh?

-----

Vernan was taking a nap in his chair when the guard came knocking at his door. It took about two minutes of persistent knocking and "Master Vernan, are you there?" to wake him up. He grabbed his trusty staff, and slowly walked towards the door. Apparently, the guard could hear the thud of his staff when it hit the floor, and said: "The Emperor wants to see you, Master Vernan. I think it's urgent." Vernan answered with a quick "Thank you.", and went on to the throne room. These cold halls do my old bones no good, he thought. Of course, he could just teleport, but he thought that to be impolite.

With much difficulty, he managed to open the door to the throne room, and steadily made his progress towards the imperial throne. Once he deemed himself to be close enough, he stopped. The Emperor beckoned a guard, and made him give Rankor's letter to Vernan. When he finished reading, he too was filled with worries. "Your Highness, we have to take action!"

The Emperor looked rather annoyed, and answered: "Yes, I know that. I need you to pay a visit to Rankor. Find out what you can. Punish those necromancers. And while you're away, I have received complaints about a thief who has been stealing from the merchants in Lionclaw City for quite a long time. Recruit him to our cause. We may need someone like that, if the need arises."

Vernan was quite surprised by the Emperor's last answer, but said nonetheless: "As you command, Your Highness."

[midget948]

OOC: Lol, when i tried to think of a name for the guy, the first name that popped into my head was rurik. So i didn't feel like making a different name

Cale ended up back in his flat. Cooking his meat. It was time for lunch, after all. When he sat down in his small area that he called a living room at the table, he sighed. Same old, same old. Thieve, run around, eat, run some more, thieve some more, sleep. Same thing, everyday, he thought. Oh how he prayed that something happens soon. Cale hasn't broken out any of his poison needles yet, not for years.

[Apostledanub]

Vernan walked out the door and closed it. He concentrated deeply, and shifted into a rather ethereal world. In this state, he can see the whole physical world. He pinpointed the location of the main Londar village, and concentrated again. Vernan appeared in the middle of the village. Only some of the villagers were surprised, but the others have become quite used to Vernan appearing out of nowhere.

Big, wooden houses were spread everywhere in the village. Vernan could tell that the townsmith was working because of a monotone clanking sound. An instructor was preparing some children for traditional Loran life. The bowyer was very busy with doing his thing, and so was the fletcher. A merchant was making a deal with the tailor. Vernan loved watching Loran villages live. Unfortunately, now was not the time to do that. He proceeded towards the Elder Hall.

----

Rankor was most pleased when he saw Vernan walk into the hall. The Emperor has not forgotten, he thought. Vernan bowed politely when he reached the throne.

"I am here to investigate", said Vernan.

"Good", answered Rankor. "As you know, a village of one of the tribes has been attacked by Necromancers. None survived. At the moment, I can't afford to send a scouting party there, as recently, we are having troubles with one of our neighbouring tribes, and we will need all of our soldiers. The spy from who I've got this information has already marked the location of the village on this map."

Rankor raised from his throne, and handed Vernan said map.

"Thank you", Vernan said.

Because Vernan now knew where exactly he had to go, he concentrated again.

[midget948]

Cale was leaning back in his chair, chomping away at his meat that was jabbed onto a fork. He had his feet leisurely laid upon the dinner table.

Seconds later, there was a loud, VERY loud knocking upon Rurik's door. Cale practically fell out of his chair in surprise, as he heard Rurik shouting, "HEY! WATCH IT! THAT DOOR'S DAMN OLD!" Rurik fired up a temper as he wrenched the door open. Rurik's eyes narrowed as he recognized the smug, burly Lionclaw guards. There were two of them, and they didn't seem very happy.

"We're here to see Cale. Cale Bloodfyre." The guard in the front glared, matching Rurik's.

"Dun't know who the hell yer talkin' bout....sir." Rurik added. It's common sense to treat the guards with some form of respect, unless you're looking for a nice, cold cell in the dungeons.

"We're sure you do. He lives here. Cale's been sighted several times returning to this building, and today we received a confirmed report. It's about time the rat finds a new home in the dungeons." The guard to the right of the other one practically snarled at his last sentence. Cale was infamous for infuriating the authorities. "If you'd step aside, please, Mr. Rurik." Rurik couldn't do anything without getting in trouble himself, so he reluctantly stepped aside. His eyes bored burning holes into the guards' backs as they stomped up the stairs.

Cale, meanwhile, heard the footsteps coming up the stairs. He couldn't run, he would end up in a goose chase for a long while, and Cale really didn't want to return to his home village. Luckily, the walls where the door was were just wide enough to let Cale stick himself in between them, above the door and out of view. He was pressing all fours against the walls when the guards opened the door with a bang.

"Where are ya, lil' rat?" The two guards stood in front of the doorway, right under Cale. One of the guards walked around, looked in the kitchen, examined the fallen chair, the unfinished meat. "You think he ran?" The guard called out from beyond the kitchen. At that moment, Cale released his hold on the walls, and fell on top of the guard that was still under the doorway.

"Mmf!" That was the only sound he made, as Cale immediately wrapped his arm around the guard's face, muffling him. Cale swiftly used his free hand to grab the small blade on the guard's belt. He stabbed the guard's neck. Cale gently laid him on the ground, careful not to make a sound.

"Mmf? You okay back there?" The guard cautiously asked as he put his hand on his sword and entered the other room. "Shit!" He said right before Cale leaped onto him and slashed the knife at his throat. He fell to the ground with a thud.

"Geez. Good thing you didn't run, they woulda put me right in the dungeons with ya." Rurik said as he entered Cale's flat. "I ain't helpin ya with this one though, Cale." He meant the disposing of the guard's bodies.

"Pft, I know. Any place I can hide these guys?" Cale grinned at Rurik.

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