“We shouldn’t linger.” Holton said, a tall rugged looking man with long dark hair and blue eyes. He carried in his hands a long steel spear, it’s bladed head glimmering in the sun. and was dressed in dark leathers that practically allowed him to blend in with the scenery he stood nearby. “You’ve been paid to keep watch until I’ve finished my painting, and so you shall, if you expect to be paid.” Illimar replied, a short and skinny man, dressed in fine silk clothing with colors so bright a child of the jungles could have spotted him from a mile away. His strait blond hair hanging out from under the brim of his bright blue hat. He was flanked on either side by a man holding up a shield, their hands gripping the hilt of swords. “I didn’t expect it would take you this long. We’ve already been here for four bells, when you said it would only take you two at the most.” Holton replied, almost impatiently. “You can’t rush inspiration, do eat or drink something. Your mood is ruining my brush strokes.” Illimar said almost snidely as he dragged his paint brush along the canvas he stood in front of. “You don’t know this place!” Holton suddenly sneered, keeping his tone silent but forceful at the same time. “You simply think it looked pretty and figured most of the stories were mere rumors! You…” Holton suddenly stopped, looking up to the jungle canopy as he suddenly began hearing bird call out through the wild. “Did you hear that?” Holton said, grabbing his spear and holding it in front of him. Illimar suddenly sighed, turning towards his hired guide. “You do scare easily, it’s nothing more than a parrot or som…” Illimar began saying before the whistle of something cutting through the air echoed for a mere second before dull ‘thunk’ could be heard. Holton’s eyes narrowed and a frown crossed his features while Illimar’s eyes grew wide and his skin pale with fright as both of the shield men fell back. One landed along the ground, motionless as an arrow sticking out of his head, the simple fell the ground, his legs thrashing as he gargled out painful screams, clutching at the arrow that stuck out of his neck. Illimar fell to his rear as panicked gasps of air were taken, his gaze shot over towards Holton, who was already fleeing as he ran through the jungle, his feet carrying him as fast as he could. Illimar’s gaze, however, suddenly shifted towards the west as he heard a soft thud of feet landing along the jungle floor. His eyes took in horror the view of a tanned skin man, wearing a thin black cotton tunic and tan pants seeming to be made out of hemp. His arms bore tattoos of design he did not recognize, his frame fitting a medium build, though toned and athletic. His features, while handsome, were dark almost detached as he gazed over Illimar with an emotionless expression. He slowly began stepping towards Illimar, a small jingle echoing out with each right step he took. As he approached, two females dropped down from the trees, each of them carrying long bows, another arrow already notched into the strings. Their build seemed even more fit and strong than the males, and they carried with them, almost an expression of superiority as one of them looked down on the fancy dressed artist, the other looking towards the direction Holton retreated. “The other runs towards spider territory.” One of the females suddenly said in her native tongue. “I will hunt him down, but it will cost you extra Seyp.” “No,” the male replied in the same language, his hand dipping into a small pouch at his waist for a moment, “I’ll track him there. I’m out of practice anyways. Besides, he was more aware than the others here. I would prefer his head intact.” Seyp stopped, his gaze drifting towards the painting Illimar had been working on, studying it as if trying to comprehend something from it other than whatever emotion Illimar was trying to convey in his strokes. Illimar took such as his chance as he suddenly pushed himself to his feet, scrambling along the ground as he attempted to suddenly escape. Seyp’s hand drifted casually to his side, grasping at a shimmer of metal that rested there. With loosening fingers, a jingle of metal echoed out as a solid steel weight attached to long lengths of thick chain suddenly dropped towards the ground, the links of metal rattling. The sound only caused Illimar’s heart to race more quickly as he tried to hasten his escape, almost tripping several times in the process. The sound of the chain rattling for a quick moment, then cutting through the air echoed in Illimar’s ears and he looked over his shoulder, seeing Seyp swinging a long length of the chain around in the air. A panicked screamed escaped his mouth as he suddenly tried to run faster. A final spin and sudden long swing found the weight of Seyp’s chain suddenly moving through the air and gripping Illumar’s right ankle tightly as he suddenly fell face first along the forest grounds. He rolled to his back, suddenly reaching for the chain, only to find it suddenly tugged on sharply by Seyp when it did, increasing the already dull pain that was suddenly rising there. Illimar looked up in terror as Seyp began approaching, taking up the length of chain as he did so to keep the grip the chain had on Illimar tight. As Seyp now stood directly over Illimar, he found his head tilting slightly as Illimar suddenly began throwing coins made of a golden metal at his feet, his voice trembling almost to the point of crying. Seyp slowly crouched down, picking up one of the coins as he examined it for a brief moment. Looking to the other two, he flipped one of the coins to them. “Perhaps you could sell them to the jewelry makers.” Seyp suggested before looking back to Illimar. Illimar had almost a pleading look in his eyes as Seyp observed him for a long moment in silence. Then, with a casual, slow movement, Seyp slowly reached out, grasping at the ridiculous looking cap that rested along Illimar’s head. He found his hand then snatching it off and tossing the cap aside when Illimar shied away. “Please don’t hurt me, please don’t hurt me.” Illimar continued to repeat. “Tell me about your life,” Seyp then suddenly said in common to Illimar, “for it is important to me.” Illimar looked up to Seyp, a confused expression crossing his features and a twinkle of hope appearing in his eyes. One of the Myrian huntress’ just sighed, rolling her eyes slightly. “What?” Illimar simply replied, as if he hadn’t heard Seyp correctly. “Your life, your profession.” Seyp said, slipping the chain from Illimar’s angle before hanging it at his waist again. “Tell me about some of your exploits, your accomplishments. I feel I must know these things.” “Seyp, quit playing with the prey.” One of the huntress’ then said in the Myrian tongue. “These are things I must know.” Seyp replied in the same tongue, looking back to the huntress. “It is important that I know for the process of my work to be successful.” “If I tell you, will you let me go?” Illimar then replied. Seyp slowly looked back to Illimar, that same cold expression still on his face as he looked into Illimar’s eyes. His eyes then traveled down Illimar’s frame, catching the edge of something that suddenly interested him more. Seyp reached out for it, and before Illimar could react to what was being done, a small leather bound booklet was pulled from a jacket pouch. Illimar gasped suddenly, as Seyp unraveled the leather cord that kept the booklet closed and began flipping through the pages. “Ah, how very fortunate. A journal.” Seyp said aloud in common before flipping through a few more pages. He then looked to Illimar, closing the booklet. “It also appears you kept a very detailed record of your life as well. I wonder, was it vanity that prompted you to do this? Hopes that a record of your life would make it across the lands and inspire many other would be artists?” Illimar began sniffling slightly, as his eyes began to grow red, tears forming along his lower eye lids. “Well, no matter.” Seyp said as he stood up, his free hand reaching into the pouch at his waist again. He then pulled out two Bika from the pouch, handing one to each of the female huntress’ giving a slow nod. “Please do save the bones of his right forearm and fingers, as well his scalp and hair. The rest you and your sisters can have for the feast.” Seyp requested of the other two. Seyp then began walking in the direction Holton fled as he stuffed Illimar’s journal into his pack. Illimar’s panicked screams and eventual death cries echoing out through the forest as Seyp began to pick up his pace, following the trail Holton left behind in his flee. |