October 19th, 2008 by Chris Frost

Chapter 1

A haze of smoke permeated the bar that was so thick that, if it were not for the occasional opening of the door, not a person inside, sober or inebriated, would be able to see. It was also noisy. Patrons yelling at each other across the table, loud excessive uses of swear words, and half-drunken statements. Finger pointing, hands and arms waving wildly caused fights to nearly break out in tandem. All of these scuffles though were quickly ended by a patron or a fist meeting an unsteady facial area.

Then there was the uncleanliness of the place. Ashes of smokes and dirt littered the floor. The sound of stickiness came from under foot as spilt ale and other beverage’s residue clung to the bottom of boots and shoes. He knew he could never get used to it. He was a prince unlike these common folk around him. He should not have to. For just a while though, he would have to travel as a commoner though. It is difficult he thought, but he has been doing all right for the past half turn. Yet he had to make a brief stop here for the moment, seeing as how he lost his bearings, he wanted to get a bit of information, some food and a place to lay his head for the night.

“You jus’ gonna sit der an’ stare or yous orderin somethin’? said the gruff looking bar tender of intimidating size.

Obviously caught in distracting thought the young man jumped. He stammered at first, mentally off balance as what to say to the large man whom shocked him with appearance, standing at what he summarized to be nearly eight feet. A vest covered this giant’s upper body but did not conceal the hairs sprouting from his chest, arms and back. Keeping the brown leather pants on this fellow, besides its noticed tightness, was a belt made of some kind reptile skin with a buckle that had a symbol of an enraged boar. What had his attention more then all these, was the large battle-axe he carried on his back like an ornament.

“Oh, umm, yes. I’d like a glass of water, thanks.”

With a grunt, the bar tender asked, “Not from round’ ere’ uh?”

The young man looked at him as he put the glass down and replied, “No sir, is it that plain to see?”

“First off kid, ya doesn’t look, act, or order like a drinkin’ local guy. My guess, you an overseas kid lookin fer some luck in wealth or somethin’.” the large man said.

The young man the bartender was speaking to looked of little more then average height, showing a slight muscular build, clean-shaven with straight black hair cut to the length of his ears giving the impression of being as though a strict hygiene were practiced daily. His clothes were relatively clean considering the travel on the dusty roads on foot and a bit expensive looking as compared to the other patrons in the bar who all looked shabby and unkept.

“I guess you know your patrons well, sir. So, if I may ask, where is this wealth to be found?” the young man asked, trying to make conversation.

“The name’s Pigres. Everybody calls me Pig though, not sir’.” he said looking at a glass he was whipping. “What kinda action is you lookin fer?”

“What kinds are there?” the prince asked thinking to himself what could Pig possibly mean.

“There’s the kind that can get you in a little trouble . . . ” Pig said. He then placed his hand on the bar palm up. “Then there’s the kind that aren’t cheap to hear bout’ and could get you killed.” he said a bit quietly.

The young man reached into his pants pocket, pulled out two silver coins and placed them in Pigs hand. They stared at each other for a moment. The young man pulled out two more silver coins, slapped them into Pigs hand, and said, “You drive a hard bargain for gossip.”

“It’s more than jus’ gossip, it be reliable information straight from the horse’s mouth.”

“So?” he replied sarcastically.

“Yeah, well it seems that a fight is a brewin’ in the south between the Velurians and some ‘ardskins.”

“Ardskins?”

“Yea, you know.” Pig tapped on the lacquered wood bar.

“Oh, Hardskins. Over what?” the prince asked questioningly. This had been his first time of him hearing of a Hardskin, and he wondered what it looked like. Most of his life he had been only told stories of monstrous types of things. However the worst he had ever come across in his short life was a huge snake, the length of four men, and it was in a box.

“That’s the thing bout’ it, those tree-lovin, ground kissin nuts are bein’ very secretive bout the real reason why. They claim it’s because the ‘ardskins are invadin’ their territory.” Pigres said.

“Why isn’t that the real reason?”

“’Cause the ardskins lands are supposedly miles from the Velurian border, an’ you know how them prissy Elur types are, they won’t leave their precious forest if they could help it. But they seem to be willing to travel a few miles jus for a fight.” The prince has never known any Velurians personally to know what Pig meant, just the few things he heard in stories.

“Well, thanks for the information. Be well.” he said as he rose from the chair.

“Your not actually gonna go an’ get involved in that mess, are ya?” he asked. The prince shrugged and sook his head.

“That’s a dangerous situation to poke `round in. I wouldn’t if I was you… uh… what’s yer name anyway kid?”

“I’m Dallen.” he said and walked out the bar.

He was glad to finally be out in the fresh air, and showed it by taking in a deep breath of it and releasing it with a sigh. It was late into the afternoon and all the bustle of the people started to die down. Many were on their way, or making last minute errands, before going their homes to rest. He figured he should do the same, considering he traveled on foot all day and night for two days from Solcade to Portcrest and was feeling a need to rest on a comfortable bed rather then the ground. He didn’t remember seeing an inn when he arrived, but then again he wasn’t looking for one. Figuring there might be a few further towards the inside of this town, he started walking. The sky’s color was beginning to fade from its daytime azure to an evening purple Dallen noticed and felt a bit home sick. Daydreaming soon took hold on his mind, remembering what it was like back home on the small continent of Avaris. The cold seasons were beautiful especially when it snowed. The small white specks would cover the bare trees and make them blend with the white marble castle walls perfectly. In the warmth of the hotter seasons, the plants and birds would return and bring back the liveliness to the city that was quieted by the cold. During the day, clouds passing over would paint shapes or fade apart on their beautiful blue canvas and then disappear behind the mountains.

“Hey! Watch where you are going!” yelled a woman waking Dallen from his daydream walking.

“I’m so sorry madam.” he apologized, noticing that his trip into his memories had knocked a strangers belongings to the ground and almost sent the person with them. As quickly as he realized what he had done, he knelt down to the floor to pick up the things he caused the woman to drop.

He picked up the fruits and other foods wrapped in linen, wiped them off with his shirt sleeve, and placed them back into the cloth sack she was carrying, all the while apologizing. Dallen could not look into the face of the woman, feeling embarrassed, but felt he should keep with his humble demeanor.

“Excuse me, but do you know where the nearest inn is?” Dallen asked as he handed the bag back to the woman.

Squinting her chubby face, she looked off to the docks down the road. “Go straight down here,” she pointed with a free hand “and when you reach the red house with the crates in front make a left into the alley way. Can’t miss it.”

“Thank you very much. Have a good night.” he said.

At first glance the young woman did not pay attention to how strikingly handsome Dallen was, but she did notice as he looked at her while apologizing and picking up her items. She stared for a moment into his face, looking at his black straight hair that fell to the sides of his head, his light unblemished complexion on a clean shaven face, sharp chin that led from his well-rounded cheeks, and the bright sparkling blue pool for eyes. She smiled, “And you also.” He began to walk off toward where she had advised as she continued on her way.

The young prince eventually arrived at a shabby place with a dirty red sign with white writing that read ‘Ginsis Inn’. Trying to look inside through the windows was impossible because the glass was as dirty as everything else around. Not knowing what to expect of the place, he entered cautiously, holding the hilt of his of his sword, concealed under his coat, and opened the door.

Upon entering, he saw nobody in the room. There was a small worn out couch to his left and just above it was an exact painting of the nearby docks. Dallen closed the door and walked toward the clerks’ counter, but saw no one there. A bell sat on top of the counter, looking as worn and badly used as the rest of the place, so he tapped it once gently with the palm of his hand. To the left there was a staircase leading upstairs, likely to the rooms. He rang the bell again and walked over to the bottom of the stairs, to try and peer up the candle lit hallway. Impatient, he rang the bell repeatedly until someone yelled at him.

“Will you please stop that!” a short old man said snatching the bell out from under Dallens hand.

He was a balding short man, standing no taller then Dallen’s stomach, and looked as old and worn as the bell and couch. The only visible hair he had was a long gray beard and long hairs coming from his ears and nose. Looking like they were just tossed on his faded gray pants and white shirt hung loosely on him. His gnarled and wrinkled fingers wrapped around the bell as if trying to protect it from the impatient man’s constant badgering.

“Sorry, I didn’t see anyone around.” Dallen said placing his hands in his coat pockets.

“Well what do you expect? A bunch of people just lying around in here or in the room they paid for?”

“Good point. Speaking of rooms do you have any?”

“Of course I have rooms.”

“Available rooms, I mean.”

“Maybe.”

“If there are any I’d be willing to pay for it.” he said patting his pocket so the coins could make themselves known. The old man realized this and he slowly placed the bell in its original place and walked around behind the large wooden desk. Dallen heard the ruffling of papers and mumbling from the old man and after a few moments the Inn owner looked up and held a key in his hand.

“Your lucky, young man, I’ve got one left. That will be twenty-three tints.”

“Excuse me? That’s an awful much for one night.” the prince said reaching into his pocket reluctantly. One tint was equal to ten flits, and Dallen had been used to seeing places being a five tints and a flit at most.

“That’s the biggest room I have.”

“I didn’t ask for a big room. I just want a room.”

“It’s the only room I have left, so take it or try another Inn. I doubt you’ll find one with a room though, with all the ships that just dropped anchor into town and all.”, the owner said with a wide grin.

“Fine, alright, I’ll take it.” Dallen said exasperated.

“Good. Here’s your key and it’s the last room on the left.” the old man said smiling and counting his money happily.

He walked into the room the Inn keeper had directed and started to remove his long black leather jacket. The room was quite big, surprisingly clean and nicely kept. There was a window that faced out towards the harbor. White curtains covered the window view but the brightness of the two moons and their reflections on the water could still be seen. A large standing closet was on the opposite side of the room. Dallen opened it and saw it was large enough to fit a couple’s wardrobe in. He hung up his coat and brown silk shirt and walked over to the bed, which was also quite large, covered with white sheets, and two very large pillows that made the idea of sleeping very inviting. He quickly took off his dirty boots and black pants. He thought wryly on the pants that his father always complained about. He felt they were a few sizes to big and were uncommon and unsightly of royalty. Dallen liked them because they weren’t confining like the pants and tights that all other royalty strutted around in.

He leaned the sword his father gave him up against the nightstand next to the bed then laid down. Wearing nothing but his underwear, he stared at the ceiling thinking. Thinking about what he would do and where would he go for the next two and a half turnings. It wasn’t like he was given a map or guidelines as to where he was to go, the choices were now his and whether he made it back home in one piece was up to him. If he did make it home what would be said of him? He had always envisioned that he would return home learned and wiser, maybe even making acquaintances that would be useful to the kingdom. Then a thought that chilled him and tingled his spine came too, ‘what if he never made it back home?’ He looked to his right to reassure himself that his sword was still there. “When you get back we’ll put this sword on the wall next to mine and your grandfather’s, and all those before him…” he recalled his father saying to him just before he got on the boat to leave a few months earlier. He knew he could take care of himself out on this journey; he had enough money to make it for the time as well. He knew that he could even handle a few fights, as he was in training since a child by the head of the guard. However what made him uneasy was the unknown. He would sometimes wander around Avaris with nothing but a knife and a food pack, when he was younger. Things were different now; he wasn’t on his fathers’ land where he knew the various creatures that roamed it. He was on foreign soil, where creatures that were in children stories to scare them, and travelers from abroad spoke about might actually exist. Hoped those whom he prayed to would protect and help him to never see any such creatures.

He could avoid them all, or most of them, by simply staying where it was safe for the next two turnings. He couldn’t though, he wouldn’t feel right. Every heir to the throne at some point in time was sent from home to survive two turnings, outside of Avaris, alone traveling to different lands. The family Gar Yun has been on the throne for more than six centuries, proving they were survivors and true leaders. He would go home a man he thought. He would make his mother, father and Avaris’ people proud that he was a Gar Yun and the heir to the throne. He felt tired as he thought all of this.

“Help!” he heard a woman scream.

He turned around to find himself in complete darkness. Reaching out he felt cold stone wall, another scream came, and he followed the direction from in which it came letting the walls guide him along the way. As he continued, some of the darkness lifted, to a point where the hallway now had a faint purple outlining. “Help me.” the cry rang out. He started to move a little faster and with in moments reached an intersection that lead off to his right, left, and continued forward. On each wall was a strange engraving in the wall, and carried a primitive crude appearance. The carvings resembled a crescent with a ball on the top, bottom, left, or right side from what he could make out. A feeling shot through him, though not painfully, as if he should go to the left passage, he did not know why but it was not his choice to make now. “Please someone, please.” The cries were weakening, onward he hurried.

At the end of the hallway was a small dirt floored room. A large green-brownish skinned man sat unmoving, perhaps sleeping, but the prince could not be sure. At lest to Dallen it looked like a man, for a reason unknown to him all became blurry as he tried to focus on him. Not too far from where he now stood, a young woman laid chained to the walls by her hands and feet. A white shimmering gown, browned by the dirt and filth, adorned her body. The fair skin of her hands had stains of grime over it but he knew it was soft to the touch under it all. Fiery red hair flowed near endlessly from her head falling onto the floor, and through this sea of fire he saw the outlining of her face. Her cries did not stop until she looked up at Dallen, hope filled her auburn eyes, and she reached out to touch him. He took a few steps forward to take her hand in his, when it all became blurry.

He suddenly awoke to the loud clamor of crowds of people talking. He guessed it to be about midmorning when he looked out the window from his bed. He could not recall the dream he had the previous night, but he did know he was still as tired as he was before he went to sleep. He got up and went to look at what all the noise was about. Outside he saw quite a few men getting off boats and walking to the town. They looked like adventurers of some sort, all armed with means of defending themselves and rendering harm to others. He quickly went to the washroom, cleaned the sleep from his body, and clothed himself. Putting his sword in the sheath on his back, he left the inn. On the main street were probably more than sixty of them in his estimation, all armed with weapons, standing around talking to each other. They were all different in size, shape, appearance and some in race. The few that stood out were from a distance some semblance of human but as Dallen got closer he knew right away these were not people he’d ever seen before. One that caught his eye was that of an Auron, whose body appeared to be that of a muscular male but going from the neck up or waist down the similarities started to blur. From the neck up its face was covered in a thin amount of dark colored straight clean hair. Its nose looked larger than any Dallen had seen and along with that its ears stuck out a bit and were narrower than a human. On either side of this creature’s head was a horn that curled upward and stopped sharply just above his hair that lay pulled back and bound neatly together with leather straps behind his neck. As the prince watched this being talk he also noticed its mouth and jaw to be larger and his voice to be deep. Across the Aurons shoulder, down to its hands, a line of straight dark hair started narrow and widened as it made its way to his knuckles. Dallen counted five very strong looking fingers gripped around the strap of a leather bag that lay on the ground. As Dallen continued to look on in amazement his eye widened as he saw that this creatures legs were massive and the exposed foot wasn’t a foot but was a large hoof.

Dallen saw Pigres standing in front of his bar and walked around towards him.

“Good morning, Pigres.”

“Hey kid. Ya see this? Look at all of em’.” he laughed

“What’s so funny?” Dallen asked, confused.

“Member’ that fight I was tellin ya bout yesterday? Well, all these folks and whoever’s are volunteers. The King of Veluria best ta have a fortune in the likes of a small kingdom for any who come back. Come back alive I mean.”

“I still don’t see what’s so funny.”

“What’s funny are the all the kinds who showed up. They must be hopin fer a large reward.” Pigres said rubbing his chin. “Ya see over der? Those Auron, the guys with the ‘orny heads, they don’t normally hang round humans. Oh, oh, look. See that guy mumblin to himself there? That’s a gifted type there, an they don’t take well to others. There are lots of characters ere that ya wouldn’t see tagether wit each other.” he said watching a female amongst the crowd in particular.

“I would figure that to be a good thing, them all coming together for a purpose.” the prince said thoughtfully.

“A good thing? You must not get around much. I don’t know any folk who’d trust an Auron. Same goes for those tricky Purians too. Now she a pretty thing ain’t she?” he said nudging and looking in the direction of a young lady in the group. She looked at Pig and smiled. The tiger-like beast sitting at her feet also looked in his direction.

“I guess.” Dallen answered indifferently.

The smell of the sea came as a breeze flowed through Portcrest. Crowd or not the locals were going about the beginning of their daily routines. Dallen noticed the sounds of the city were growing and movement between him and the mass of volunteers began to become blocked. Soon sounds were added and now he lost anything distinguishing the locals from their visitors. From his vantage point Dallen could see at that someone had come to the group and had everyone’s attention.

“I need to have a look Pigres.” Dallen said though he was already in mid-stride, making Pigres loudly sigh and follow his weaving through walking traffic.

Standing in the midst of a large huddle was a man, a bit taller than Dallen, with dark golden hair that looked neatly cut around the shoulder and matched his clean shaven look. The range Dallen now stood was only close enough for him to catch a word here and there but with barrels being rolled, carts being pushed or pulled and all other sorts of sound it made it that much harder to hear. Around the neck and to the floor the man wore a cloak of dark green, enveloping him in whole besides his head. After a few moments of straining to hear what was being said, the man stopped talking and turned, walking back the direction he entered. The crowd had begun to murmur, grabbing their things and making their ways towards the eastern wall of the city. With confusion holding Dallens mind firmly, he tried stopping a few people what had been said. Grunts, waving of hands to shoo him away, and plain ignoring of him were the answers he received. Daring to ask the Auron he made his way over but his opportunity passed as Pigres grabbed a hold of his arm.

Dallen looked at Pigres. “What did all that mean?”

“Basically kid they’re gonna go fight those foul leathery skinned monsters in their underground home. I doubt most of them will survive. I don’t think it’d be a good idea for someone like you to go joinin them.”, Pigres answered.

“ I see.”

“You’re not thinkin of goin, are ya?”

“No I’m not thinking about it.” Dallen answered with a look of thought on his face.

“Good, cause you don’t look like the fightin sort but you’d be the dyin sort if ya did. Now let’s go have a drink while I try to convince that lady to stay too.” Pigres was already walking to talk with the beast guarded woman, while Dallen stood in thought. Back home, Dallens father always told him stories of his journey and how he was told his fathers and his grandfathers and so on. Some of the stories may have been a little over done, with the truth obviously distorted in some places, but they all had things to say. It wasn’t as though Dallen wanted to be better than all the rest, though as he saw things, nothing would come of this but passed time and he wanted more. The stories he would tell wouldn’t be just stories but something more, things worth saying and believing. There would be risks though for this, a price to be paid for sure.

Looking over at Pigres, it was easy to see the conversation wasn’t going in his favor; it more looked like begging instead of convincing. A small smile formed on Dallens face, knowing Pigres would probably try to talk sense into the ‘kid’, and he wasn’t sure why. From the corner of his vision, the man in the green cloak left out of a shop further down the road, moving at a brisk walk. Figuring it would be best to follow this fellow to catch up with the group, the prince started after him, making sure to keep him in sight but not look as if he was trying to chase him. A few times a shoulder or elbow hit him, and even more often as he pass the market section of the city he lost sight of the soldier only to see the cloak easily at a distance.

Delivery carts and their drivers made quick paths on the road, leaving a temporary empty spot that only became filled with walkers within moments. In the distance a loud rumbling and clattering sound, it soon was accompanied by yelling and a bit of dust being flung into the air in the center of the road. Dallen as he followed only noticed this was something to be aware of late. The driver of a stelso-cart, a noisy machine powered by the strength of harnessed steam within a chamber, had lost control of his speed somehow now sped down the middle of the stone lined road, just barely hitting anyone or thing as of yet. The pursuit kept Dallen on the left side of the road and it was only when the roar of the engine passing him followed by a loud scream then finally an explosion made him stop mid-step. As he turned his head, debris was already air-borne. Pieces of wood and pebbles flew at near-by windows, cracking and shattering them. Covering his eyes with his arms, Dallen ducked, kneeling close to the floor. Rising while uncovering his face slowly, a scene of destruction was unfolding. Dust began to settle as the peoples nearby all began to take in what had just occurred. On the ground, Dallens eyes traced streaked road stones to where the dust was still well into the air; soon he saw pieces of mangled metal atop broken slats of wood. From what he could make out to be the storage part of the cart he continued to look on, only making things clearer as he walked towards the wreck. On the ground he saw a pool of what at first looked to be like mud, then a dirty boot and more darkly colored water. A leg, buried under more wreckage, lay on the cobbles in front of the prince. Without thinking he ran in, pulling off what he could lift. One of his hands tingled as he grabbed a piece of metal that was steaming, and it quickly burnt his hands forcing him to drop it with a gut emptying rattle. Frustration set in, making him throw off his jacket along with his sword to the ground near his feet. Steam and dust still clouded most of his vision, but it slowed him none as he searched the rubble. He finally came across something he could use, a long plank, to try prying the metal away so as to reach the person below all of it. Beside the leg, just under the searing metal, he placed one end of the wood and he pushed upwards. Slipping on the soaked stones, Dallen grunted and pushed but the metal didn’t give. As he went to reposition the splintering wood, he saw a hand place a large rock under the plank.

Pigres, now with a foot on the rock, placed both hands on the plank. “Pull down kid.”

Dallen nodded and pulled down with Pigres’ strength now added to his. Slowly the large sheet of metal lifted with sounds of scraping and bending. All of the weight now lay on the wood, making it to begin to bow under strain of the two forces.

“Quick, kid. See if ya can get anyone out from under there.”

Already on his knees, Dallen made a scramble to get under and get a hold of the leg he saw. He hoped the limb was still attached to a person, and the person alive along with it. Grabbing hold of what felt like a knee, the prince pulled hard only to lose his grip. He tried again, this time with two hands on the leg and still received no gain. In his sight he tried to make out what was blocking him from helping this person, and in a sudden turn of events like a chain reaction, he heard the plank that was holding the metal from crushing his head begin to crackle. As that happened a loud whistle came and stopped, followed by another explosion. Not nearly as powerful as the first blast, but enough to push Dallen out from under the sheet and forcing Pigres to the ground, the cart was not done yet in its destruction.

“Urry kid!” Pigres said getting up off the ground. “Curse it! The wood is broke.”

Durt was stuck to his face by the steam blast, as Dallen now looked to the ground. At his feet his family sword lay partially out of its sheath and glinting amongst the debris. The handle felt of grit as he picked the weapon, letting its holder fall to the ground and him rushing back to the pile. Taking a close look at the ground, he searched for the large rock again and just the same Pigres came back over, this time on his knees with a large stone.

“Go.” He said motioning Dallen as he now placed metal against metal pushing them against each other with his full weight and strength behind the hilt. Scrambling, belly pressed to the ground, he made his way partially back under the sheet, though this time he had a bit of light by way of the rays bouncing off the blade next to him. With his vision clear he now saw not one but two bodies trapped, one under the other, wedging them firmly.

“Theres two under here!” he yelled.

“Well, pull em out! This won’t wait on ya to finish up and make tidy!”

Grabbing on to a wrist from the body of the one body on the bottom, he pulled with all his strength, though it was futile in his position. He reached behind him with a free hand, “Pull my hand!”. A moment passed and he felt two set of hands grab his arm as he was pulled from under the sheet, along with a woman who was covered in mud, dirt and blood. On either side of Dallen stood a stout man, from the quick glance he got he thought they looked to be dock workers. Hastily Dallen dove back under the metal, pushed on by the sound of straining from Pigres. Hand wrapped around the knee that gave no give moments earlier, the prince now pulled, the body moved slowly with it and with another pull from the two helping rescuers the body of the driver now lay inbetween Dallen and the woman, the latters face being cleaned tended by a robed man in blue and dirt stained white. On his back Dallen lay when he heard the sound of metal grinding on metal as Pigres let the weight drop on itself.

“This aint… the kind… of trouble…” he huffed, bent over with his hands on his thighs.

To his right, as he still lay on the ground trying to catch his breath, he heard a crowd beginning to gather. His thoughts were now on whether the two he pulled from the wreck were alive, it wasn’t like he had a chance to check while trying to pull them out. Sounds began to get louder, he heard Pigres among some shouting, something about moving the cart away before it can do anymore damage. A soft touch from a hand now was on his forehead as a woman, in some blue garb, now knelt at his head.

“This one here is fine. Some scratches but nothing else as I can see.” She yelled off in the crowd’s direction. A voice responded in telling her to keep him there for a moment longer. Dallen looked up to see a pair of brown eyes looking into his. A kind of warm smile he hadn’t seen in a while wore on the face of a woman who looked overly concerned. He was sure nothing was wrong with him, though the people he pulled out would need more attention.

“I’m…”. he tried to say before he was cut off.

“You may be hurt. Stay still.” She chided.

He tried to protest but she placed a finger over his mouth. “That was brave of you, rushing in like that.”

“Yea, it sure was.” Pigres added. “That thing there coulda blown us to bits, do ya know that?”

“I don’t even know what it was.” Dallen answered. “And really I’m fine.”

Pushing himself to his feet, Dallen stood as his care taker looked up at him. She smiled and stood, nodding at him and hurrying her way to her instructor’s side now caring for the man.

In Pigres’ hands were Dallen’s coat and sword back within its scabbard, at the sight of Dallen let out a sigh along with thanks to his friend for retrieving them. A blood and mud mixture stained the tan coats arm just above the right elbow, and the back of it covered in tiny bit of splinters and clinging pebbles. He didn’t bother to check the condition of the blade, though the handle was a bit dirtied and the leather scabbard a bit scuffed.

“So, ya were leavin to go with them crazies eh?”

Dallen nodded while looking down the road, though he was sure the Velurian was gone as his noticeable green cloak was nowhere to be seen. Grabbed out of thought, by big hands laid on his shoulders and shaken, Dallen looked at Pigres conjuring a smile.

“Ah, I guess it aint any use. Listen if you gotta go just take care of yourself eh. I hope ta be pourin ya a drink soon.”

“Thanks.” was all Dallen could muster up to say before turning around to catch up with the group. He hadn’t a thought of the condition of the survivors of the accident, assuming he did what he could. Pigres returned to find the woman, on her way home from the market, speaking to her husband and son as a healer continued to slow her bleeding. The healers blue robe with white stitched markings, typical of their kind, had been lightly stained with blood as he rigorously chanted while his hand hovered over her body. The driver, being overseen by the assistant, in less marked robes applied rages and towels to clear away any dirt or blood. He made no commutation though he was still breathing. In thought, Pigres didn’t know if they would still be alive if Dallen hadn’t hurried in however he did know that no one else would have been as quick to react as him. Personally, Pigres didn’t like the machine-type carts. They, in his belief, were made by the crazy type and that meant the inventions of said crazies would be just as unstable. Three other assistants, in training and dressed in the same robes as the woman already there, made their way to the scene and made themselves useful, quickly providing bandages and cleaning wounds. Loud clattering of a six wheel, horse drawn carriage were heard off in the distance on the way from the Holal, the building the followers of Nadine lived, worshiped, and practiced their arts in. Pigres was not the kind of man who believed in the gods like most others but at this point he did hope for the sake of the victims that Nadine did exist to help them. Sticky hands reminded the bar owner that there was blood and grime on his hands to be cleaned. The day couldn’t get much more eventful than this he imagined. If it did, then maybe things were starting to get a little too crazy for his liking.