Vendetta for Blood: An Altercation with Ximal (CE))

[Wrenmae]

Spring 23rd, 511 AV He began the day in his usual way, rising from beside the sleeping Ana and stretching. Sunlight pierced the fabric of his tent, irritating his eyes, but after the long evening he'd had with the little thief, much of it might have been his exhaustion. Fury lingered in his blood like a hangover, a shadow that rattled his thoughts when he recalled their conversation from the night before, another encounter with the oafish giant, Ximal. Ana had told him everything, her act of larceny and his reactions, the encounter with another 'side', some darker twisted form of the fool...Liro. He'd even named it. Cute. Honestly though, the thought of any similarity between them nauseated the mage. That he held the same mental instability within him was nothing short of a petching insult. As far as the murderer was concerned, the leviathan had no right to walk the streets of Sunberth alive. He couldn't possibly be mistaken, had murdered and ran, had shown magic and yet remained untouched by the troubled folk of Sunberth. He was a walking anathema and worse, one that had caught the interest of Cade...prompted him to leave Wrenmae alone with the madman. Nearly a week since the day, and now this...Ana was a target of his now and something inside Wrenmae felt this was a line crossed. He may have been able to live with the fact that this walking ton of muscle-flesh disliked him. Frankly, the collective Wrenmae couldn't think of a single reason to like the awkward creature...but to take it a step farther, to threaten a comrade, a frie- He paused. Not a Shroud thought at all. Friend? No, no, he threatened what was Shroud's...what was his property. That was it. He glanced down at Ana, scowling, had to be. Stepping out of the tent, pushing a shirt over his midriff and adjusting his pants, he blinked blearily in the sunlight and glanced around the campsite, noting the coming and going of the mismatched mercenaries. Frankly, few of them inspired much confidence in the young man. He'd seen Sunberth...may not have been born or raised here, but had spent the better part of three seasons dodging blows and blades. Too many of them smiled too sweetly, looked with eyes unmarred by blood or murder. Cade was reaching deeply into the unaligned to find his crew, but at what cost? Mok was splitting wood near the end of camp, his shoulders flexing with the exertion of cracking the logs in half. It was as much training as it was for the benefit of the group, and it was a task Wrenmae had only limited experience in. He approached the half blood, weighing his options. Mok would almost certainly want to take action, bloody, violent action...and was that so bad? Part of Wrenmae didn't want the man hurt...he'd proven himself to be the most trustworthy and dependable of the Crimson Edge so far, a man Shroud was close to calling friend...perhaps after the little trial.. But he thrust it from his mind, more interested in the events directly relevant than what was to come. "Mok," he called out, waiting patiently for the half blood to turn to him, "I have a problem that needs solving...one I don't think I can talk to Cade about." Brushing woodchips and debris off the splitting stump, Shroud took a seat. His eyes were burning. "There is a man, Mok, a man in Sunberth named Ximal." Leaning back, he took a breath, and continued, "I first saw him at the docks. Do you remember the debacle with the Brazen Fist's slavery gang? A man took an impossible leap and crushed the head of their auctioneer, tried to free the slaves, killed one of their own, and used his body as a battering ram through a crowd of people." He let it sink in. "I met him again a week ago, with Cade in the hot springs. He had eyes for Cade's favorite...who's apparently a kelvic lion...surprises abounds, eh?" Shaking his head, he continued, "Ximal knows my name now, knows that I set the crowd on him for being a fool and a mage. He disrespected me, Mok, called my abilities and purpose into question and Cade simply let him speak." Gritting his teeth, Shroud brought both hands together in a joined fist. "They spoke in some gutteral tongue to each other, Cade and he, and while Cade was ready to strike him down before, he let Ximal go without explaining to me the tongue they spoke in...it didn't inspire much confidence." He let out a breath, "I'm not whining. This isn't a problem I'm afraid to handle on my own, but the man is bigger than Cade and I'm still learning the finer points of daggerplay...besides, he's a mage, one that can increase his physical attributes." His eyes darkened, "I'm not so foolish as to let my pride lead my body into ruin." "Besides," and Shroud stood here, driving a fist into his open hand, "The same man accosted Ana, one of our own." He grinned, mirthlessly, almost vicious, "She stole from him and he revealed his mind is cracked, he's named his other sides...his 'madness', and I think he may be out for Ana's blood." Shroud breathed. "Cade wants to give the man a chance, but I will not be party to him or his continued breath in Sunberth. He's threatened our own and I can't let it stand. He has no friends, no gang, no one to call his own...so he has nothing to lose for further stupidity, which he has already proven himself capable of." Shroud held out a hand to Mok, grim. There was no need for hypnotism here. This was personal. This was no longer about petty revenge. "I want you to stand with me to hunt this fool down, leave his head on a pole. If he slay him, the fact he's a mage will only increase our renown, the Crimson Edge's reputation...and it will be one less enemy we have to worry about who knows my name...where to find me." He almost withdrew it, thinking, but instead kept it extended. "I'm not asking you to fight my battles, brother, I'm asking you to be a part of them. As I will be a part of yours." Somewhere, a hawk cried out, a lonely shriek echoing along the trees. It was almost fitting, almost perfect...a primal declaration of war and the only man Wrenmae was united in seeing removed from the world.

[Mok]

The myrian always woke up a few minutes earlier than everyone else to chop wood. No reason, he just did. Unless he had something to do, he would grab his trusty ax and chop wood for a good half bell every day. Maybe it was, because it felt good or got him warmed up. Either way, it was his way of waking up and bringing his mind to full alert.

A thin glaze of sweat covered the half-blood's barren back. Any Crimson member who was around would definitely notice the handful of scars throughout his body: tributes to all the times he lost in his life. Although Mok was a hardened warrior, it was not because of all the people he murdered, but rather because of all the times he had gotten his ass kicked. His whole childhood was filled with brutal beatings and even into his adulthood he had received more than his fair share of painful asskicking in Sunberth. Mok understood the meaning of respect...he learned it the hard way.

Wrenmae awakened and beckoned Mok to listen to his words. Judging by the look on his face, the topic was something serious and grave. The gangster dropped his ax and listened to Shroud in silence. The half-blood looked Wren straight in the eyes. This was a sign of respect for the warrior. Only grown ass men looked each other in the eyes. Only liars and little kids avoided eye contact. Shroud wasn't like this though; he was a grown man and stared back at Mok in fevering passion. Wrenmae was complete one hundred; he was a real ass motherpetcher, who only spoke the truth to Mok. They respected each other and had each other’s back, always. Loyalty was number one. Sacrifice for one another were to the extreme. Love was reserved only for the Crimson Edge.


Shroud brought up a man named Ximal to Mok. Apparently, this was the fool of a man who had pissed off the Brazen Fist's gang to the extreme. The myrian had heard a few rumors at the tavern, but this was the first time he heard the story in full. Why wasn't this guy dead already? He must have been a real badass to be able to get away from openly petching with slavers. In Mok's eyes, almost impossibly badass. He would have to watch his step with the man. The myrian spat, but remained quiet. It was early and there was nothing that needed to be said yet.

Wren continued explaining that they met Ximal at the hot springs. He also mentioned Cade's current fling with Shishi. Mok shook his head; he knew she was a kelvic already from their previous encounter. That really didn't matter to Mok though. Shroud continued to explain how this Ximal character was disrespecting him, questioning his abilities and purpose. This sparked the powder keg for the bloodthirsty savage. Mok's eyes widened at these words. Mok crossed arms in disbelief as he heard that his own cousin abandoned Wrenmae when Ximal was clearly talking shit. What the petch was Cade thinking with, his head or his penis? Mok had never, ever heard Wren so distraught over this type of shit. Ximal must have really insulted him to the max.

That wasn't all; he was out for Ana's blood too. That was it. Mok was convinced. Anything else said beyond this point was meaningless. He already knew Wren's dissatisfaction with his cousin, but this Ximal guy? Petch that fool! He had to pay! The savage was already breathing in anger. His eyes were already seeing read. Although Wrenmae spoke calm and collectively, Mok knew that his brother was hurt to the max. Mok understood how petched up this situation was. He completely understood. There were no more excuses. No more bullshit. From now on the Crimson Edge would be doing it the right way.

Shroud continued to tell Mok about Ximal, explaining the man had no affiliation and seemingly no friends. He wanted Mok to help kill the bastard, but he already knew. Wrenmae didn't even need to ask.

A hawk cried and finally the myrian let out all his outrage all at once.

"Petch this bunk ass motherpetching cunt," Mok suddenly exploded, "I said petch this skurak motherpetching piece of human shit. NO ONE disrespects us. NO ONE mugs off to me and my pals and goes unpunished! Bunk ass petching cunt. I'll cut his petching throat! Who is he to think he has to right to talk shit?"

The myrian was beginning to get loud and any Crimson member within earshot would be able to hear his dissatisfaction. His zealousness was beginning to come out now, "This Ximal comes talking his shit? Insulting us? What gave him the right? This fool obviously thinks he can take us on. This is war! This is a dog fight now! Petch that bunk ass cunt, talking his shit then running away like a bitch ass deyni... MAN!... I'll tell you how we do it here, Wrenmae, we meet our enemies head on."

Mok spat, he was still seeing red. By now maybe a couple of other members had awakened to see the commotion, "We are going to kill that vagik. We are going to stick that petcher's head on a damn pike. We'll paint the streets with his blood. Revenge at all costs! No retreat! No surrender! Death before dishonor!"

"Listen up my Crimson brothers and sisters!" Mok yelled addressing everyone in the camp, "This Ximal guy. We are out for blood. If you see this cunt anywhere, I want him! He came talking shit and must now pay the price. Listen well brothers and sisters! This is how we do it here in the Crimson Edge. We don't let anyone disrespect and get away with it. I don’t care how much of a petching badass this guy is, we are bringing him down!"

Mok paused for a moment and paced back and forth wildly, "See this here sword at my side? It represents me and the motherpetching Crimson Edge. We take things to the blade here. We don't wait to play games. We take words seriously here. No one disrespects us at all! No one! Ximal must pay the ultimate price for such bullshit! I hope you all understand this. For the prospects not around, spread the petching word. Bring him to me alive brothers and sisters, if not bring him to me dead. But either way: Ximal is dead!"


With these words Mok took a seat in disgust and outrage at Ximal's blatant insults and disrespect. Ximal would pay the price, but Mok would NOT count the cost.

oocCrimson Edge -- This vendetta against Ximal is real. From the 23rd and on all members of the CE should roleplay the fact that Mok has put a hit on the man's head. Even if you were not around to hear Mok's request, word will get to you quickly. It is up to YOUR CHARACTER if they follow this request or not. I will not force you to do something you don't want to, however no that if Mok hears that you are friendly with Ximal after this date, than Mok will consider you an enemy. Please PM me or chat with me if there are any questions as to why? or how? or when? or whatever.

Red = Myrian
Bold = Common

[Xavior Silhouette]

The morning started as usual for Xavior. As soon as the sun began to crest the horizon the light of the sun began to show the true nature of the beast. His wings had unfolded and were quick to take him to the air. A soft meow came from the bag on his back as his companion had awaken as well. He never really enjoyed sleeping in tents like the rest of the thrown together troop. Instead, he preferred to sleep at the tallest branch he could find that viewed the star filled sky. The sound of wood as it was chopped by a mighty axe echoed over the land. Xavior knew it was Mok, he always seemed to be up at the crack of dawn to chop firewood for the group. Xavior yawned wide as he flew in the sky toward the sound of the chops. What struck him as odd was when the sounds of the axe stopped earlier than usual. Xavior, flew toward a near by tree branch and soon perched on it. The wings kicked and cracked the leaves as a hawk flew away startled by the sudden landing. He could see Mok below and Shroud as well. He began to take off the traveling sack he had for his kitty companion and brought it to his front as he sat on the thick branch. He took out the orange cat and began to stroke it along its spine as he watched what went on below. It was a startle as Mok's voice roared to life suddenly, the cat's fur even fluffed up from the sound. Mok began to call arms on a man named Ximal. The name sounded familiar, but then again many names flowed through Xavior's ears. "Looks like some flames have been fed fuel A," he spoke to the cat delicately. "But I couldn't understand him, could you?" He waited for the nod from the cat, could it understand Xavior? "Aye!" Xavior finally called to both Wren and Mok. "What is this now? Blood needs to be shed because of what now?" Xavior's bottom scooted off the tree branch. His wings ballooned and filled with air as he used them to glide down to where the two stood. The eth knew about modesty, but he preferred to either be naked or in a loincloth. At this time, he had on the later. Cat in hand still, he let the animal slide back into his sack. It's triangular ears soon poked from over top as it stuck its head out in curiosity. "Are we gonna chop someone's head off because of some words being slung around? What are we, children?" Xavior grinned as he spoke with a tone that indicated he was half joking.

[Leon Von Strova]

"Then you will do this without my aid." The Thief was new to the Crimson Edge, but one law ruled the thief. Don't harm family. "Ximal's my little brother. And I won't hunt him, nor will I aid him." The Male wore his black clothing, common to those of his trade, the black shirt and pants, tucked into black boots. His gauntlets sat upon his arms, a sign that he would die before betraying the trust of his brother. "Kill me if you wish, but it will bring you no closer. Let me seek him and reign him in and maybe, we can have another friend, instead of a needless murder." The Thief offered his suggestion, but doubted it would be heard. Elder of the two brothers, The Thief, who lived as a monk as well, would stand and stare at the more elite members of their organization, and stare them in the eyes. He showed no fear, did not even balk. There was no worry in the air about him. He would stand his ground, in life or death, and he had chosen it.

[Zandelia]

Zandelia had not slept the night before, instead choosing to spend the twilight hours honing her mental powers to a fine razor, each and every piece of dissected and discarded information merely serving to attune her senses towards a single purpose – advantage. There was much work to be done and many lead’s to sift through, rumors to disentangle and hearsay to appropriate to actual events or fictitious telling of memory. It was a hard task, harder than she had thought it possible to be when setting out upon building the foundations for her future. There was no flow of information in a real sense, more a battering ram of potentialities that would stave in the hardest mind over time. She was not the toughest she was sure, but she good at what she set about doing. Still, she could only take so much before having to cease her efforts.

For the first time I think I truly comprehend the metaphor of water outlasting stone she let her ravaged mind relax as she finally placed her notes in their accustomed place, upon her person. She left faked notes I her tent to mislead intruders, a trick she had learnt from Garret years ago now.

It was as she tried to darken her mind, allowing it some rest that the words permeated the winds and were brought to her ears. In the over-arching silence they carried well, breaking the monotony of the camp of the Crimson Edge quite neatly. She was surprised she had not heard them sooner as, judging by her trained ears, there were at least four people talking – and one she knew very well indeed. The others she could perhaps guess one other but would not dare to presume too much. She sighed, sensing tension crackling through the air and, for once, knew that she would be required to play the peacemaker. It was a role she was not altogether accustomed to but saw as necessary at certain times. She may not be overly respected, but she knew her role within the band, and when to exercise its strengths. As he exited her tent she listened further, taking in what she could as the figures finally gained names and faces. She had been right about Mok, and Leon also.

And Shroud, how did I know he would be party to this? she sighed internally as she made note of the other member there so far, one she had seen but not had the chance to really interact with – a failing on her part perhaps.

“Children, an apt observation if said with poor considerations,” Zandelia entered the conversation with as she strolled closer casually, “adults do not seek out blood for nothing other than pride, it’s the sort of thing to bring ruin upon even the most stalwart of groups – and we hold a barely tenuous position. Killing would be unwise in the extreme Ethaefal” Zandelia noted as she stood a few paces away and tried to assess the general mood of the group.

Leon defends his brother, no surprise other than the fact that he is his brother I suppose. Still, he is useful to me and his words hold merit worth considering she thought as she shaped her next verbal exchange carefully.

“Strange how you put things Shroud, for I know of the event you speak of. It is hard not to considering it is wagging on the tongues of anyone will to listen to its telling. However, where it grows vague is why you saw fit to intervene at all,” she continued in an affable manner, “you say you set a crowd upon him. Why? His actions would have earned him enemies without your involvement. Why should we get aggravated over a situation that you caused yourself and see fit not to deal with in the same manner?” she asked the man, her distrust of him building internally after the events she had witnessed, connecting further pieces together now.

“And you Mok, willing to plunge us into all out war with the god’s know what for his foolishness? That doesn’t sound like he warrior I know, the man who stands by what is best for the Crimson Edge and its members. Shroud says he knows the man has no affiliations, but he cannot be sure,” she let her words entwine Mok slowly, allowing him time to consider their weight from a person he respected, “he guesses at best. Are you so willing to possibly ignite war with other gangs for naught more than foolish words said by a young man? I remember a time that you liked to do rash things and exchange insults yourself. You cannot tell me that is not so” she finished her words for him then, for now.

“Leon here is one of us too, and a good man. He has skills that are worthy to us and the right to speak his mind for consideration,” she stated as she placed her hand upon Leon’s shoulder now, “do you not think it worth seeing if there is another resource worthy of being tapped, to grow our strength, rather than to cut one away for one person’s hubris?” she asked them all, her tones steel now and placing her firmly in the way, an obstacle to the intent.

She was Zandelia Sansom, a name that was worth its weight in certain places, and she would have her say if she had to force it into their ears by hand herself.

[Apos]

Apos crawled out of his tent, waking up to the shouting of Mok. Oddly enough, he'd grown accustomed to chopping of his wood so the break in the repetition of his training threw Apos off. Squinting in the sunlight, light which is too bright for Apos to bear, he grabbed his goggles off the ground and shielded his optics. He stood to his feet and slipped on a pair of pants, socks, and boots, feeling no need to put on a shirt at the moment. He slipped his ulaks onto the pockets of his breeches and parted the entrance to his tent to see what the commotion was about. The Myrian stepped out and continued to listen. From what he'd gathered so far, this so-called Ximal had disrespected and threatened members of the 'Edge and they sought retaliation. It was morally correct in his eyes however. This was not a place for kids, or those who felt the need to be politically correct, or sway the minds of a Syndicate built on the blood of enemies. "Yes. We are gonna chop some petcher's head off because of words being slung around. I don't know about you, but I don't want to be in a guild where everyone in the city thinks its ok to disrespect and threaten a member and look for no consequence whatsoever. Do you? I certainly don't want to be a part of something that doesn't sustain respect in a city that demands it." He looked at Leon and turned his head to the side, as if studying him. "I got a better idea." Apos said obviously sarcastic as he straightened up. "How about we all let a family member of ours do what they want, say what they want, and threaten whom they please in a Syndicate we've all pledged to protect from the inside out. We all took the same oaths."

[Cade]

Cade, the berthian barbarian and leader of this rag tag crew of misfits of all walks of life entered the camp, sword drawn to Mok's alarmed voice crying for battle. He was followed closely by Eyrss, the former leader of the crimson edge who was now coming back into the guild's folds. As they neared the commotion Cade could not see battle raging or a quarrel on the go but he did see a gathering with his cousin, Mok, and Wrenmae at the head of it.

The jest of what the barbarian could tell was that Mok was rallying the crimson edge to hunt down the Ximal, a man Cade had dealings with just of recent. The man had made a impression, though his dislike for the hypnotic mage was not withstanding Cade had great use lined up for the man. He had a power that Cade wished to learn and harness for his own needs...... needs that surpassed such basic instincts of retaliation to minor threats and insults that had not been acted upon. But he can hear the blood lust in his cousin's voice and it will be a task to convince the hound of battle to withdraw.

Cade brushed past the onlookers grouped around, Coming to zanelia's side as his ferocious eyes of deep svefran blue were focused upon Mok in direct challenge. Cade did not miss what zandelia had to say, nor did he miss what Apos had to say the only thing was Cade had his own words that needed to be heard......... and obeyed.

He cleared his throat, his eyes now wondering about to each person, searching their souls an acquiring their full attention. " A boy can learn a lot from a dog" the barbarian's voice broke the awkward silence, loud enough to be heard by all and deep in with his myrian accent. " Obedience, Loyalty, and the importance of turning around three times before lying down"

"But when he is a man, he needs to learn how to trust the man to his side to have his back and to trust the man above him to have their best interests in mind when commands are dealt out" Cade lifted his sword, his eyes focused upon the long sharp blade " A man needs to trust his steel, that its hard and true......... and all of this in order for self preservation".


"Now..." He continued, his blade now lowered, tip pointing to the ground " Leadership is the art of ...... influencing behaviour to accomplish a task in the manner the leader so desires. A leader is a person who guides others toward a common goal, showing the way by example, and creating an environment in which other members feel actively involved in the entire process. A leader is not just the boss of the team but also the person that is committed to carrying out the mission. "

He Continued to look around the surrounding group " I am not the best leader, I am missing many qualities that make a great leader but I am working on it. The qualities that I do have will play to my strengths and one of my strengths are " His voice transformed from soothing and confidence to pure voraciousness as he lifted his sword " Enforcing my authority by means i have been gifted with" Hinting towards his sword and to any that wish to defy him in his leadership will meet his blade in battle.

"Now that we understand loyalty and leadership, I will say this only once. None of you will hunt Ximal. He is a brother of one of our own, will be considered family as i would treat any of your own kin. He has use to us that surpass such indiscretions that can be simply satisfied by a older brother's heavy hand of guidance or a non lethal dust up. " Letting what he had said sink into his own surrounding family "This is a petching dictatorship, not a democracy" . Cade did not need to make a verbal threat of death, all that knew him knew it was assumed that would be the outcome of betrayal.

The barbarian waited for a response. He was tired, he was miserable. He may have over done his threat, but it was time the Guild new there place and who the petching boss was even though the old boss was amongst the crowd they all join loyal to the guild, loyal to the leaders words and commands. This was a simple order and one that Cade fully expected all to follow.

[Daniel Alecson]

Daniel had been doing patrols around the camp since shortly after everyone had gone to bed the night before. It wasn't something that had been asked of him, just something Daniel did once every few nights. It calmed him, gave him time to think and helped him feel useful, something that he hadn't felt a lot lately. Daniel wasn't used to standing around, signing on with this mercenary group seemed like a good idea and it still did but he just wasn't used to not having work. With the sun finally begining to shine down Daniel figured it was about time for him to finish his rounds. Daniel was tired but he'd never forgive himself if he just spent the day sleeping, maybe a nice cup of tea wold wake him up.

It was at that moment he heard Mok shouting about something, he couldn't be sure what. As he neared he began to hear Mok's speech more clearly, something about someone dishonoring the Crimson Edge and a call for blood. Daniel honestly thought it sounded stupid, words were just words, what others said mattered little if it wasn't the truth. People could say what they wanted about the Crimson Edge, in the end they'd prove them wrong and if they were right did the Crimson Edge really have a right to hold it against them. Then again Daniel had been hired for more idiotic things, he'd once been hired along with a troop of other mercenaries to assualt a farm. Later turned out his employer wanted the farm destroyed cause he had crashed his carriage into their fence and they wouldn't pay to fix his carriage. The man had spent more money on revenge then he would've to just fix the damned carriage.

Daniel didn't know the story about this Ximal character and he hardly cared, if Mok was ordering his death Daniel would keep an eye out for him. It was at that moment Daniel noticed a few of the other members step up and begin voicing their opinions. Daniel honestly agreed with the man in black and the woman, Daniel couldn't recall their names at the moment. The shirtless one's argument seemed stupid though, words were just words afterall. Daniel personally hoped that Mok could be swayed from this path, just like the noble who'd damaged his carriage odds are he'd ended up paying for more then was neccesary, in this case though the price would be in blood instead of gold. However Daniel was still just a prospct and Mok was definately above him so if it was ordered Daniel would follow it to the letter.

When Cade showed up Daniel stood at attention, ready to hear what their commander had to say. Listening to the speech it was obvious that Cade felt Mok had stepped way out of line. It seemed Cade's speech was more for then just Mok's ears it was a blanket statement. The statement was pretty obvious to Daniel, Cade's word was law, and those who didn't follow the law were going to be put down like disobedient dogs. Daniel didn't like the idea of killing those that he was slowly becoming to think of as more then just fellow armsman but he was nothing if not loyal. If this turned to bloodshed Daniel would leap to help his commander without hesitation, no matter how much it would burden his heart later.

[Chamaeleon]

Chamaeleon had not felt anger before. She had not felt that burning that churned through her body and caused her limbs to tremble and her breath to hitch. She was angry, the foreign emotion swelling up within her, but she restrained it as best as she could to listen. She had to listen, to know who would be doing what and when.

When she had heard the outraged shouts in the voice she recognised to be Mok's, the Ethaefal had been meditating again, resting against the side of a tree and breathing deeply. She had actually attained a state of calm before Mok went and ruined it, and out of curiousity and a desire to give the man a good nudge, she had risen to her feet and pranced over like some dainty doe.

She had made it in time to connect his rage to the rumour of some man that had threatened one of their own and insulted another. It was then that the first seeds of the tumbling mass of anger had been planted and brought to bloom. After all, these people had become a make-shift family for her in replacement of what closeness she had lost when she joined them on this world. She was close to these people, had begun to view some as more than family but as close friends also. She had cousins, brothers, sisters, and even a creepy uncle that never seemed to smile. She had this all, and one man had threatened the sanctity of it.

While Chamaeleon didn't care for killing this Ximal, she wasn't one to overlook the possibility of teaching him a few brutal lessons.

But then, there was Cade and some random man behind him that Chamaeleon had never seen before in her life. Cade spoke and threatened them all, and that was when Chamaeleon began to burn with the outrage.

Usually soft, happy, and bright, she scowled at the leader of their group, but she bit her tongue to hold back the tirade of words that were about to sweep forth. He had deliberately told them to stay their hand. This man, Ximal, was a danger! He was out for blood, and yet they couldnt be? Was this a real gang or not?

The threat lay heavy on them, and Chamaeleon clenched her hands into fists. She tasted blood from biting her tongue, but she knew that her safetyay in keeping silent. She was behind those who wanted to protect her family, and if they were after a man with no one to call his friends, she wasnt about to back down from this.

However, another possibility opened itself up, and this one she voiced.

"Why can't we enslave him?" She asked. The five words she had never thought she would put together in a sentence, dancing past her lips in a quiet whisper. "He won't need to come to that much harm. No one needs to die. We won't have to suffer his indignation anymore and we can use him. With us he would be safer than out there, but he wouldn't need to join us. Why can't we do this?" She tried to speak reasonably, keeping her voice muted and subdued. The anger flashed in her blue eyes though. She was upset with this whole situation.

[Wrenmae]

The Crimson Edge gathered. Some were caught by the vespers of the private conversation he shared with Mok, the ever observant Zandelia, of course. More came from above or beyond, filling in the space around the chopping stump with mixed emotions and purposes. Shroud counted them, their loyalties, their feelings. He swallowed a curse tickling the back of his throat, his eyes roving between those present. Of them, only Mok, Apos, and Xavior had initially voiced their support. Too few. Members he had spoken with little, others who knew a little more of him. Zandelia was the most dangerous of them. She was akin to Shroud, more like sharing a similar soul of inquiry. While most eyes were on the sweaty Mok, hers watched Shroud, boring holes in his skin with her eyes...always calculating. Oh would that he could hurt her, blind her, kiss her...conflicting emotions between respect and hatred...all kept beneath a very thin veneer of civility, deepened by the darkening forecast of action. It was the arrival of Cade that broke the vendetta though, clad in armor with the elusive and powerful Eyrss striding quietly behind him. The Myrian did not have to speak to voice his opinion, he wore it on his skin, sheathed it at his side. Cade had come to see an unarmed Mok clad in steel and death. His answer was clear. Shroud backpedaled, his eyes searching the growing number of dissidents. They were outnumbered, unprepared, and completely at the mercy of the massive man. What had seemed a simple declaration of battle for a mutually disdainful individual had become an outcry of betrayal, a dirge for the carrion crows that circled over head. Like prophets, they smelled blood. Mok was trembling, but not with fear. Rage shook his body, threatened to burst from his skin and damn them both. Cade was a stalwart shadow, a bull that had set itself to charge. Only words held the two from combat. Shroud resisted the urge to sneer. An armed man with a mage at his back to fight a boy and an unarmed combatant...how noble. Still, it made sense. Sunberth was less about honor and nobility and more about getting work done. If Mok proved to be disloyal, here, now, Cade would cut him down. No honorable combat...just blood and death. As Chamaeleon spoke, Shroud thrust his arm across Mok's chest, as if holding him back. Really it was a front to lightly touch the half-blood's skin, feel the energy there, draw his eyes temporarily to Wrenmae's. In that moment, Shroud released a thick tendril of Djed into his friend's mind, pulsing layers of emotions to crowd out the fury. First he lay the groundwork of caution, reigning in the Half blood with a burst of calm and the hint of trepedation, following it up with a subtle simmering betrayal, a calm sort of anger, crafty, conniving, the sort of fury that was more akin to ice than fire. Briefly a hallucination crowded Mok's eyes, one that was easily banished, but grave all the same. The Crimson Edge drew their weapons and cut the both of them down, it took moments, imagined in all the gruesome gore Shroud could picture. It was sudden, merely a flash, but he held the arm across Mok as he spoke. "I brought this complaint, so I will answer for it." He stepped in front of Mok, his heart hammering inside his chest, a wild yearning to simply escape, or strike out. He contained both urges. "If your orders are to cease aggression against the mage, so be it. I asked Mok to help me in my battle and I can, as brother, request he not." He swallowed fury, turned it into bile, darkened his heart against those who lent no support. Most of them were guilty of killing for far less complex reasons, Cade a man Mok had said split a prostitute in two for merely being in his way. So he was to be denied his pride and anger? How perfectly hypocritical. "So long as I am brother here in the Crimson Edge, So long as I am welcome among these tents and people, I will not disobey a direct order from a superior." He turned his head to Mok, stepping back and clapping the half-blood on the shoulder, "Nor shall Mok. We are not so foolish as to defy you over such a..." he forced the words "Trivial...reason." "However," he held up a hand, urging Cade not to take the word as an invitation to attack, "Mok and I feel strongly about the cause, so we will quit your presence for a time to cool our heads." Turning around, Shroud brazenly presented his back, fearing everything but having done nothing, striding away from the group toward the city, "I'll buy you a drink, Mok," he offered the Half blood, pausing to wait for the man to follow, "That'll calm us down."