Beauty and the Beast... and a Myrian too [Kamalia]

[Gunto]

Gunto shoved with all of his strength, pushing both of his blades forward and throwing Jalé off balance. As his opponent's swordarm sought to maneuver it's blade into a less awkward position, Gunto began wildly striking with his curved knives. He lashed out several times, the sound of metal scraping metal ripping through the air as Gunto's blades drug across the surface of plate and chain. His attack was uncoordinated, his left hand blade simply striking wildly as Gunto sought for cleaner strikes with his right. Jalé slowly gained the upper hand with his swordsmanship, Gunto's knives unable to do much more than block his slashes in return outright. Each strike from Jalé left Gunto's arms vibrating, but their fight continued. The vibrating clash of steel filled the room, but each fighter had slowly become aware of something else. Their battle was not so intense as block out the gathering magical energies swirling about them, a product of Kamalia's charged djed. "Your Konti friend needs to be put down, Gunto!" Jalé screamed, his entire body spinning as he lashed out with a powerful arcing blow. Gunto threw himself to the side, his body smashing to the ground in an effort to escape the strike. He didn't trust his knives ability to stop such an attack without losing a hold on them outright. As Gunto crashed to the ground, his shoulder took the brunt of the fall and he managed to roll onto his back. Once again, his knives were scattered about his sides. Gunto blindly grasped for them, but his attention wasn't on his weapons. He watched in a mixture of fascination and horror as Kamalia's magic took the form of a cylindrical bludgeon of ice, repeatedly smashing down atop the spasming figure of her magical peer. Jeruma was a leecher, and as such he was prone to expending more djed than most wizards. In most situations, he would have staved off his overgiven madness for the length of the fight. It was simply too much to counteract when he had overloaded his bodies natural pathways with djed, fueling his frail muscles with a strength that his own body could not cope with. The euphoria he felt even as the bludgeon of ice hammered down upon him did not waver. Jeruma let out a string of curses, throwing his arms up into the air to deflect the magical creation as it smashed down a second time. The force snapped his fingers, bending his wrists back and shattering his arms in a chorus of hideous brutality. Yet still, his muscles wretched out of control and sought to fight back against Kamalia's magic. The muscles of his neck spasmed and bulged, his own arms breaking themselves further as the overdriven muscles literally tore themselves free of the broken bones that once held them together. Jeruma's djed pooled around him, mixing with a growing pool of crimson to create something that looked like an oil slick. His body was ruined, but the realization of his own death did not subdue his desire to control his precious djed. With his final breath, he spat out a broken word that engulfed his body in a roaring fire that exploded outwards. The cylinder of ice crashed down one last time, two opposing elements clashing and battling for supremacy. As Jeruma's fiery pyre burned, the ice melted away into a stream of steaming djed laced water. Despite his utmost attempt, Jeruma's suicidal attack failed. His magical explosion amounted to little more than a charred crater where his skeletal body lay motionless. Jalé's body was twisted at the waist, observing the carnage with frantic eyes. A simple touch and go operation had become a massacre. Worse yet, his own comrade had near killed them all; he had actually been saved by the Konti woman. Not that it mattered, he still intended to gut her fallen form. His icy eyes watched her decent, dropping to the ground like a flaccid sack of grain. Yet when he went to take a step towards her, he found that his foot would not budge. In that instant a pain unlike any other he had felt exploded through his leg, and his head snapped down to the image of Gunto on his hands and knees... and a kukri knife embedded into his leather boot. Gunto had lunged forward as Jalé was distracted, jamming his blade hard enough into the man's foot that it embedded into the wooden planks below. Jalé's cry was enough to tell Gunto that he had wounded his opponent badly, but his attack had a flaw. On his hands and knees in front of Jalé, he was exposed to the brutal attack that he should have seen coming. His vision exploded into wild motion as he felt an impact on the side of his face. Jalé had struck him with his unhindered leg's knee, and now fought to tear the wicked blade from his foot. With a piercing howl, he managed to free himself from his snare. "Dirty son of a bitch you are, Gunto. You fight like a dog." Jalé hissed, stumbling towards Gunto's dazed body. In a horrifyingly efficient motion, he took hold of Gunto's wild hair in a tight grip and smashed the pommel of his longsword inbetween his eyes. Gunto spat and whimpered as he sank to the ground, completely disoriented and unable to comprehend what had happened. His vision was growing dim, only able to make out the sight of Jalé limping towards Kamalia's body. The tip of his longsword drug across the ground, a hint of her apparent fate. "I never had so much trouble... Damn Konti." He muttered, doing his best to ignore the anguish that was rampant in his foot. Gunto could be dealt with later. He knew the Myrian well. For all his tough facade provided, he was not the horrifying savage most believed. Gunto had done well when surrounded by men of Jalé's caliber, but when left alone he was little more than a common thug with no real skill or spirit. The Konti was the greater threat, and once she was dealt with he would stick Gunto like a pig. That was all he deserved. He stared down at the fallen form of Kamalia, a silver princess sullied by battle. Blood spattered her clothing, and she looked worse for the wear. She would look much worse momentarily he thought, as he lifted his longsword in preparation to plunged it down upon her breast. His vision was ripped from Kamalia's body, suddenly veering upwards towards the charred beams on the ceiling. He felt trembling hand's gripping his thick hair, and a hot breath stinging at the back of his neck. "Never... turn your back on me. You know better..." Gunto whispered in a hoarse tone. Jalé's eyes near bulged out of his head when he felt the steel bite of that damn knife twisting beneath his arm. Gunto jammed his kukri as hard as he could into the one weak spot he could strike amidst Jalé's armor; the fleshy pit of his arm. The blade snaked into his body, crushing the guardian bone in it's path and viciously tearing at the vital organs they protected. Gunto gave the blade a harsh jerk, the only thing keeping the blade from traveling farther was the hollow thud of it impacting the interior of his opponent's steel armor. Jalé went limp, his life extinguished as if Gunto had blown out a candle. Yet when his opponent crumpled to the floor, Gunto could scarcely stand himself. His head was cloudy, his senses distorted and the taste of blood lingering in his mouth. He fell to his knees, unable to savor his victory for the moment. Not a moment after the chaos of the room gave way to silence, a new intruder permeated Gunto's ears. "Stand clear! Stand clear! Don't move, Myrian!" Gunto lifted his arm, a wavering finger pointing at the charred corpse of Jeruma as he spoke. "Wizard... wizard tried to kill... everyone." Despite his mumbled explanation, Gunto found himself being pushed roughly onto his back by a thick soldier's boot. The city guard had come, drawn to the obvious sounds of carnage and battle. The scene was grotesque, death filling the air and competing with the mingling charge of djed. Gunto felt the tip of a spear under his chin, more shouts and phrases being screamed about the room. He thought there were four, maybe five men and women filling the ruined house at this point. Even in his dazed state, Gunto knew that he needed to lay the blame of the obvious magical onslaught on Jeruma's lifeless form. Dead men cannot defend themselves, after all. That, along with the idea that the Zeltivan city watch was far less tolerant of out of control mages than the scholarly types who presided over the academy. They need not know that Kamalia was the source of the vast majority of the damage they saw. Gunto couldn't speak in her defense, as even with the looming threat of the spear registering in his mind he still felt his consciousness slipping away. He went out cold just as he heard the sound of a distinctly feminine voice in his ears, screaming in his defense.

[Kamalia Timandre]

“Bullshit!” spat a tall, muscular woman brandishing a halberd emblazoned with the insignia of the city watch. She wore leathers with a chain shirt over the top, as well as a short sword sheathed on her side and a buckler strapped to her back. The captain surveyed the main quarters, and the entire area reeked of blood. The stench of burnt flesh hung thick in the air. It was a complete mess.

“This is butchery. You will explain yourself in the Lord’s court, cannibal,” the female captain said in a cool, commanding voice. Gunto would feel the cold metal of the halberd’s blade upon his neck, “and you better petching tell us everything!”

“Don’t hurt him!” exclaimed a more feminine voice. It was Rafa bursting out from the door that led to the basement. “Captain Brianna, these are hirelings who want to sell us to slavers. Master Gunto had done nothing but to protect me and my Konti sister.” Ignoring the corpses that littered the floor, Rafa quickly dashed to her unconscious friend and knelt to monitor her breathing. Kamalia was draped limply on the stone, her hair blanketing the floor with silver locks. Out cold, Kamalia appeared so fragile, so unlike the ruthless creature that channeled such fearsome magic moments ago.

“Mistress Rafa,” the guard captain began. “This vile savage cannot be trusted, and my agents told me he is in league with these mercenaries. They’re all—!” The captain protested, but Rafa waved her to silence.

“Yes, yes, I know,” Rafa said impatiently. She pushed up the sleeves of her dress, baring her arms to her elbows, and revealing two swirling sigils in shimmering opal—Rak’keli’s gnosis marks—upon her slender forearms. Her attention never really left Kamalia as she spoke. “Stand over there, Captain.” She gestured vaguely in the direction of the wall. Her eyes travelled slowly from Kamalia’s feet to her head, but it was as if she were looking beyond the unconscious Konti in some fashion. “You may talk if you wish,” she went on absently, “but quietly.”

Captain Brianna grumbled under her breath, though not loudly enough to catch her attention. She commanded her subordinates to search the entire house, and look for anyone who still breathed. She had the guards drag the corpses out of the healer’s residence.

Whispering a prayer to Rak’keli, Rafa rested her hands lightly on Kamalia’s bosom. She closed her eyes, and for a long time she neither moved nor made a sound. She scarcely seemed to breathe. For all the guards could tell, though, Rafa might just as well have gone to sleep. But Kamalia’s breathing sounded easier. “She’s under the effects of severe overgiving, and Rak’keli can’t help her. But she won’t feel pain now.”

“She’s a wizard,” Brianna said with loathing.

“Yes, and you have very much in common, Captain Brianna,” Rafa said bluntly, eyeing the guard captain coldly, “that you use your halberd as your weapon, while she uses her will.”

“But magic corrupts the mind,” Brianna muttered defensively. “An interesting company you keep, Mistress Rafa. First, a Myrian and then an unregistered mage.”

Rafa did not pay her attention. The healer knelt beside Gunto. One hand she laid on his forehead; the other rested on his knee. The Healing coursed through the Myrian’s body with a cold tingling sensation. “It is done,” she said tiredly. “Help me up, Brianna.”

The guard captain sprang to her side. “Will they be all right, now?”

“With rest, yes,” Rafa said. “But they can’t spend the night in prison. Kamalia won’t be awake for days, anyway, and she needs my constant attention. Leave a couple of your guards here. Put them both under house arrest for now. I’ll meet with the Lord of Council, and make sure Zeltiva knows the truth.”

---
For two days Kamalia Timandre swam in dreamful slumber. She dreamed of home, dreamed of starlight and dreamed of the lover she once had. Sometimes, Kamalia knew she was dreaming, and sometimes, she let herself drown in them, reveling in their poignant beauty. There, she skimmed the chavena, danced clad only in stars and moonlight, and swam into the depths of a silvery lake. There, she ran off with her lover into the sunset, across a flower-strewn meadow, and they made love at night right beside the firelight. Many times Kamalia wished for the dream to keep on going forever, but there were also times when the dreams turned into macabre horrors. She saw herself turning the flowery fields into a fiery inferno and heard the dark, exultant laughter of her magic. She saw her pale hands streaked crimson by the blood of the man she held closest to her heart. The dream had to end.

For two days Rafa watched over Kamalia as she lay in a deathlike slumber. It was beyond her power to heal her friend completely, but she clung to her faith that Kamalia would get through this and that Avalis and Rak’keli would see it done. Joy flooded Rafa’s heart when at last Kamalia stirred and woke. The younger Konti’s lips formed a request; Rafa reached for a cup of water and held her while she drank. Kamalia struggled visibly to shake off the deadly lethargy, like a butterfly breaking free of an entangling cocoon. But her eyes, as she focused on her friend’s concerned face, were clear and set with purpose.

“How long have I slept? Is it the Third Sun of Winter?”

Rafa blinked, astonished anew by the wizard’s resilience. “Yesterday, Sister. It is the Fourth now. You’re not in shape to sail, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

Kamalia brushed that aside and pulled herself to a sitting position. “Are we going to be detained for questioning?”

“Not anymore. They’ve already interrogated Gunto, and suffice to say I pulled some strings to keep you out of prison. They’ve got enough answers. I might be Konti, but I’m Zeltivan. A resident healer’s words hold weight in the Lord’s court.”

“Good,” Kamalia said softly, her right hand reached out for Rafa’s and she held it tightly. “We cannot delay any longer. I have already brought danger to your home. I have put your life in peril and that was but a squall before a storm.”

“But it’s far too dangerous out there,” Rafa asked, searching her friend’s eyes. “You are not ready.”

She squeezed Rafa’s hand, but her eyes were distant. “Lhex weaves as he wills. Fate will not wait for me whether or not I am ready. Whereas once my path is fraught with danger, danger now follows me.”

“Those mercenaries... are they...?”

“Yes. I feel those mercenaries were not merely hired by slavers. Unseen enemies watch me from the shadows, pulling strings like puppeteers. I cannot tarry here and imperil your life again. Forgive me, Sister, for everything. I must see Gunto,” Kamalia murmured.

And so the healer brought rice gruel and a plate of fruits and water for washing. Rafa waited until Kamalia readied herself, and supported her until she gained the strength to walk alone. Kamalia made her way down the cellar, where her Myrian guardian stayed. “Gunto?”

[Gunto]

shhhhhhhhink! shhhhhhhhink! He sat with his back against the cold wall of the cellar, running the blade of his knife against the steel of his bracer. Oh, Gunto of the Shadow Hand was not happy. Perhaps it could have been the fourteen bell interrogation session he had endured that angered him. If his knife hadn't been so firmly lodged in Jalé's corpse, they may never have believed which side of the fray he had been on. Maybe the fact that of all of the men slain, most had been his friends during his stay in Zeltiva. They had run a tight ship, and shared many victories together. While disheartening, that wasn't it. What infuriated the Myrian more than being treated like dog shyke by the guard, or watching his brothers-in-arms burned alive was the simple fact that his own ally had nearly killed him as well. Gunto was reckless, but Kamalia's destructive force threatened everyone around her on a far greater scale than his knives could ever pose. He sat there, seething in silence. Then he heard her call his name. "I'm here." he grunted, pulling himself to his feet and letting his knife dangle at his side. His face was slack as he watched her descend into his lair, her movements clumsy and sluggish. He surmised that she was still sick from her magic. Serves her right! Gunto took a few strides forward, his legs no longer lamed thanks to their gracious host. His head still pounded a bit, but that was to be expected. "I hope you enjoyed your nap." He hissed, unable to keep the contempt from his voice. Before his charge could muster a response, Gunto lashed out with his free arm and took her roughly by the jaw, squeezing her face in between his obsidian fingers. His manner wasn't gentle. "You understand that you almost killed me, woman? Even as I brought down the men who would have ran you through? What kind of... a Myrian commander who endangered her soldiers in such a way would be deemed unfit to lead!" What Gunto had wanted to say was unimaginably more vulgar and abusive, but he simply couldn't curse her in such a way. She was no Myrian, but she was a woman. That alone granted her at least some measure of protection from the full wrath of his emotional outbursts. "My companions are dead. What's worse, I wasn't able to take their strength for myself, an honor that was rightfully mine." Gunto muttered, twisting his wrist and pushing Kamalia's face to the side. He had pushed the weary Konti into the corner, her back pressed flat against the wall as she watched with wide eyes. Watching him? No, his knife. It hung menacingly at his side, apparently at the ready. It struck Gunto in that moment that she was under his power. Kamalia was weakened and vulnerable, a mere fragment of her typical power. He could take her right now, if he wanted. She smelled unlike any Myrian woman, ever so faintly radiating a flowery scent. Gunto leaned in his close, his nose and lips brushing alongside the nape of her neck as he took in her exotic smell. Not Myrian, but beautiful in her own way. Gunto's body froze as he realized what he was contemplating. He released his hold on her, turning away quickly as if to avoid her gaze. He spat on the ground, hanging his head and staring down at the kukri dangling in his hand. He let out a loud sigh, slightly ashamed at himself. His anger and irritation had faded, replaced by something else. It felt like... curiosity? Excitement? A mixture of both, perhaps. "The most ridiculous part of all of this is that now, I have to go with you to Sahova. In case you didn't notice, my business partners are all dead. There is only one thing about this whole mess of shyke that appeals to me, Kamalia." Gunto said, turning back to face her once more. "That being you. You kill very well. If this is only the first chapter in our little story, well, let's just say I hope chapter two doesn't fall short." Gunto said with a growing grin. It was devious, almost childlike. The thrill of more battles and potential victories had overridden his contempt for her, fueling his passion to satisfy the Goddess of war. Gunto extended his hand to her, offering the Myrian variation of a handshake. Should she extend hers, he would clasp her by the forearm and she would most likely do the same by instinct. It was an honorable gesture. "So, Kamalia... who are we going to kill next?"

[Kamalia Timandre]

Like some dark shadow, he seated there. Kamalia watched Gunto run the blade of his kukri against the steel of his bracer, as if it were a whetstone. She had never shown it, hiding her true emotions behind a serene, unruffled façade, but the Konti had always felt somewhat unnerved by his foreboding appearance. Here was a man who had seen more death in his eyes than she ever had. Here was a man who knew violence like the back of his hands. Here was a man who breathed danger, thrived in bloodbath, lived to battle—he was bred for all these. The young sorceress merely stared at the Myrian warrior with placid measuring eyes as he pulled himself to his feet. She watched him walk towards her. He appeared to be brooding, and his skull tattoo made his visage even more intimidating.

She straightened her back, mustering the air of grace and command Gunto had always known her to radiate whenever the situation called for it. And then his obsidian fingers were upon her jaws, cinching them painfully. For a breath—just for a single breath—Gunto would recognize fear in her blue-violet eyes, but it was gone as it suddenly came, replaced by a wintry, penetrating gaze. She met Gunto’s gaze, levelly. If he meant to terrorize her, he would find she would not be easily cowed. She looked back at him with the eyes of a queen, as if he were a boorish interloper in her courts. For a moment, she glimpsed something like obeisance in his eyes, but it swiftly faded.

Gunto shoved her against the wall, and pushed her face to the side. The Konti’s eyes widened, realizing the gravity of situation. Did he just consider his contract done? If he could turn against his former companions so quickly, what was stopping him from murdering her as well? She was still weak. Her body was tremendously enfeebled by the deadly strain of Overgiving. She did not dare struggle as Gunto could slit her throat open in an instant with a slash of his kukri. Her mind calculated a dozen escape plans, before she felt Gunto’s lips and nose brushing across her immaculate skin, taking in her fragrance. Her hair and skin smelled of vian flowers, siren, alluring, mystifying. He would get a closer look of the stylized lily mark that graced her swan-like neck, and the delicate gills that slashed across its sides.

Kamalia’s body froze as another realization seeped in: she was powerless under him. Her heart leapt in her bosom in a mingled emotion of fear and disgust. She was a fragile, flimsy thing next to his lean but strapping frame. The warrior was unbearably close. She could smell leather and… lavender soap. He was unbearably close. Unbearably.

The Konti’s eyes flashed defiantly, lifting her chin in an imperious angle while he held her face. She thought about Gromhir. If Gromhir were here, he would have gashed this savage’s throat open and make him bleed to death. Stitch would have rescued her too, definitely, and teach him a lesson. Kamalia realized how truly alone and helpless she was, away from Mura, away from Syliras, away from her friends. Mother Avalis, save me.

To her surprise, Gunto released her from his grasp. Relief filled her heart when he turned away from her. The Konti suppressed a sigh, massaging her jaws and leaning her back against the wall. “Look, I had not meant to put your life at risk, but it was my first time to call upon fire magic in combat. My command was far from perfect. Forgive me, but it had to be done.” She stared at her palms wonderingly. She still could not believe she had done it. Since she had arrived at Zeltiva from Syliras, Kamalia had been practicing simple fire cantrips, from lighting candles to setting the fireplace alight. She had not thought herself to be so capable of controlling her most feared element. She was not sure she wanted to do it again, but she was sure she would be using it again, anyhow.

“I’m also sorry about your companions, Gunto, but they too were pieces being played. They danced for my enemies, a dance that served their ends, to be sure. Our enemies remain unseen and they are guileful, so we need to proceed with more caution from now on,” Kamalia said softly. Take their strength, he says. Did he mean to devour their heart?

It was strange to hear melodramatic words from the warrior, but even as he praised her, his Myrian side showed through. By the gods, Gunto was praising her capability to do violence! Kamalia had only resorted to it only to defend herself, and every life she took weighed on her soul heavily. She felt unclean with each kill, and not a lot of Konti could stomach such carnage the way she did due to their delicate psyche. It even made her wonder sometimes if she were truly Konti or some pale human female with scales and gills.

But being praised like this by a Myrian, it was almost heartwarming. Even when they were vastly outnumbered, Gunto of the Shadowhand did not betray her. He did not abandon her just to save his skin. Kamalia had not expected honor and nobility- from a Myrian, no less. She adjusted her opinion of Gunto upwards by several notches.

She smiled at him—genuinely this time—and took his offered forearm. “Thank you, Gunto. For a moment there, I had thought you would turn against me. Oh, there is going to be more action in chapter two. You can count on that. We will do what we must. It just makes me wonder why you sided with me when the odds were stacked against us. Were they not your friends?”

Before Gunto could answer, Kamalia was already moving towards an antique oaken armoire. Gunto probably had never noticed it before, but the doors were painted with an elaborate circular glyph. The Konti studied the runes for a while, attuning her eyes to the glyph’s aura. It took a while before her eyes attuned to the nuances of power. The runes glowed faintly in her eyes, signifying that the glyph was charged with magic.

Kamalia reached into the coils of her hair and took from it one of her isurian steel shooting stars. She held the weaapon by one leg and hurled it at the armoire. The legs bit deep into the wood. The magic contained by the glyph activated and in a matter of moments, the shooting star was encased in a thick crust of ice. “Anyone who came in contact with the wood would have been confined in thick ice. That was why Rafa told you not touch anything here,” she said with satisfaction in her voice. She had not expected her glyph to activate rather nicely.

She opened the doors of the armoire. There was nothing inside save for a single wooden staff leaning against the cabinet wall. It appeared to be made of cedar, slender and with a reinforced butt. The tip was slightly pointed, featuring the carvings of four robed wizardly figures that stared off into four directions. “It is about time,” Kamalia said softly, before gingerly taking the staff from the empty wardrobe. “I have concealed you long enough.”

[Gunto]

Gunto's lips moved in response, but Kamalia had already turned and began her purposeful stride across the room. It struck him as odd that she had questioned his loyalty in the heat of battle. Gunto surmised that this Konti thought little of his devotion to Myri. This did not anger him; humans in general didn't seem to understand his mindset when it came to the rush of achieving victory in battle. As she seemed to be fiddling with some odd piece of furniture in the room, Gunto spoke aloud, giving her a much dumbed down explanation. "You have met someone who is very religious in your life, yes? Like them, I am a religious man. Where some give thanks and praise through prayer or time spent in silence, I shout to my Goddess my devotions with the blood of my enemies. When I am challenged, it would be a slap in my Goddess' face to back down; a sin. I am not the most skilled warrior you will meet in your lifetime, Kamalia. What I am is a Myrian, and I would willingly walk into the waiting arms of death before I disgraced my God Queen." Though his words were true, the thought of death so far from his home did disturb him. So far from Myri's seat of power, he knew that despite all of his prayers she could not reach out and pluck him out from Dira's grasp. Gunto had no intention of dying in this place, but he did not let fear get the better of him. His unwillingness to settle for anything short of the total destruction of those who dared cross him had gotten him farther than the knives sheathed on his body ever would. Kamalia had surely heard his words, but she was apparently distracted by her task. When the ice enveloped the throwing weapon embedded in the armoire, Gunto took a step back and shielded his face as if he expected some magical explosion. He had witnessed magic more than a few times in his life, and that alone was more than most could say. It's sudden appearance out of nowhere still had an unnerving effect on the Myrian. "Ah, a weapon? Well, that, uh... knife... thing you had earlier seemed to work well enough. That looks more like a walking stick." Gunto said, tilting his head and peering at the staff in her hands. "Is a simple stick worth guarding with magic?"

[Kamalia Timandre]

Kamalia listened to Gunto’s explanation as to why he had helped her all the while she took the staff from the oaken armoire carefully with both hands. She spun to face the Myrian. “It does follow reason,” she mused softly, nodding once. “You honor Myri through bloodbath for she is the mother of war, like I honor Avalis by peering into the loom of fate. Your faith in your goddess is commendable, Gunto, but I feel that you evade my question. Why were you quick to abandon your brethren to protect me? Will there come a time when you raise your blade to slay me, as well?”

It would occur to Gunto that Kamalia was thinking about her own survival. If he could turn against his comrades easily, it was not farfetched that Gunto, honorable though he appeared to be, would turn against her as well.

“You meant the suvai,” she said gently, placing a hand on the scabbard of her whalebone knife, while the other held the cedar staff. “This is no ordinary stick, Gunto. This is a staff of magic, crafted by a magesmith five centuries past, before the lands were ravaged by the Valterrian. In ages when wars between Alahea and Suva lay waste on the length and breadth of Mizahar, these staves were wielded by battle wizards as weapons. Many a weapon was destroyed in the cataclysm, but this one survived as it was put in the Void for safekeeping. This is called the “Pathfinder”, a lesser staff forged and enchanted in 16 BV, by the celebrated staffmaker Qaliana Sveransis. It is one of the very few artifacts that left her forge. ”

The Konti’s expression seemed to tighten as she stared at the staff. She fell silent, and she let the silence stretched on for long before she spoke again.

“This very staff was once in the hands of Sahgal Hrinn, better known in his magonym “Sagallius”, Sagallius the Benshira, Sagallius the Court Mage of Alahea, the Godslayer. It was he who put Aquiras the Voyager on the brink of death when the foundations of the world shook and the stars trembled, when blood watered the grass of Mizahar, and when gods were at their weakest. It was he who seized the Voyager’s heart, made it his own through a ritual to reach apotheosis, and ascended into godhood himself. Servants and worshippers of the Puppeteer—our unseen enemies— must want this staff for themselves. Aside from these, I cannot tell you more what I know about this staff. Trust me when I say it is safer this way.

“This is the reason I require the shelter of your blade when we reach Sahova. Sahova is a treacherous place, where a few undead wizards as ancient as the Valterrian still walk its halls. Some of them would pry this staff from my hands for their own greed. Some of them might even work clandestinely for the God of Manipulation. There, you and I must remain vigilant. Our enemies move in the shadows,” she said serenely.

She faced the Myrian again, studying his expression with knowing eyes. “We will be leaving soon, on the morrow at the latest. You must see to your packing. There will be lack of sustenance in Sahova, so I have asked Rafa to procure jerky for you.”

[Gunto]

Gunto took a few steps back, leaning against the wall with his arms folded across his chest as Kamalia spoke. She challenged his motivations yet again, but not without some merit in her words. He had just admittedly helped slaughter his own companions, after all.

"My friends, you could say that. Plucking women from their homes in the dead of night to be sold for coin was beneath them, and an insult to what I thought we stood for. Give me no reason to see you as my enemy Kamalia, and you have nothing to fear." he said simply.

She went on to talk of staves and times bygone. It was all a bit out of his breadth, but he took it in as well as anyone else likely could have. To him, a staff was just a staff. He knew of Kamalia's preferred magical art and a few others, but even the technique she had used to encase her small throwing weapon in ice was unknown to him. When she finished with the note that there could possibly be undead abominations in Sahova that sought to impose upon whatever it was Kamalia intended to do, Gunto's head rose.

He had yet to be entirely forthcoming with Kamalia as far as his purpose in Sylira. He was in fact a scout in the Myrian army, and his task was a long term reconnaissance of the region and it's cities. Sahova in particular would be interesting to visit, as it's undead inhabitants garnered no love from his people. Identifying it's structures and the capabilities of it's wizards was an extremely lucky break for a soldier of Myri. It would be dangerous, but the potential gain from his visit was vast.

Gunto leaned forward with a grunt as Kamalia mentioned the lack of food in Sahova and the need to prepare. Damn it all, he hadn't even thought of that. Those creatures didn't need to eat. Gunto explained that he would have to return to his room across the city and retrieve some items, and bid his temporary farewell. As he closed the door to the much ruined house behind him, he could feel the eyes on his back. They stayed with him all the way to his room, not too close but definitely not too far. He would be watched within this city for some time. Gunto supposed there was no helping that.

---

The next morning...

The ship loomed in front of Gunto like a creature of myth. It was still somewhat odd to him that managed to float at all being so big. He was dressed in his full battle attire, which wasn't unusual as he owned little else in the way of clothing. On his left shoulder he held a large pack, another hanging from his back and yet another held from his right hand. A pack mule. Wonderful. Kamalia's personal possessions seemed to take up the vast majority of the pack's space, though his tiny fortune weighed heavily as well.

"Come on, this ship won't wait for us." Gunto said with a sigh, turning back to the two Konti women behind him. They seemed to be cuddling or whatever it was that women did when they feared they would not see each other for some time, and Gunto was unable to pick out their words from the distance. He assumed they spoke in their native tongue, as what he did make out was gibberish.

Gunto allowed another dramatic sigh before plodding towards the ramp onto the boat. As he placed his first foot on it's wooden surface, he turned once more to see if Kamalia had finally decided to get on with it. The two had parted and shared their final words. "At last." he thought. Rafa stared out to sea for a moment before her wandering eyes met his. She gave a curt nod, one Gunto returned with a neutral expression. He'd learned a while back that when he smiled, his face contorted in such a way that his facial tattoos actually looked more menacing than they typically would. He'd spare her that as the final image of his parting.

They would sail for Sahova, and what awaited them Gunto did not know. He tried to focus on his duty as a soldier, but the nagging feeling that he would have little time for gathering information skittered about inside his head.

To Gunto of the Shadow Hand and Kamalia Timandre, Sahova beckoned. They would answer it's call, flesh and blood, magic and steel.

[Tabarnac]

XP Award! Gunto XP Award: Unarmed Combat +1; Kukri +5; Wrestling +2; Intimidation +3 Lore: Reflexology for Combat; Kamalia’s Staff (secret) Kamalia XP Award: Reimancy +5; Suvai +5; Leadership +1; Throwing Stars +2; Unarmed Combat +3 Lore: Leeching (victim) Additional Notes: Sami, don’t forget that a Novice with the suvai wouldn’t be able to “elegantly twirl” them! And... okay, that was the least of my problems with this thread. Now granted, Kamalia has expert level Reimancy, and at times I saw where your effort to be realistic (not necessarily an oxy moron with magic!) with her first efforts with Fire as her new element, but she kept getting her head slammed on the floor, she was Leeched, and it was one elemental explosion after another. I have double-checked with a Founder and Expert level does mean she’s capable of more, but that doesn’t mean she has unlimited resources. I would have had her pass out earlier had I been modding, but she did in the tenth post and wakes up the next day, mobile. So this mobility is false. Once she gets on the boat for Sahova, her second round of overgiving manifests: hemophilia, fever dreams, convulsions, and her spells are going to go all wonky. This last can be reduced somewhat if she is working from a meditative state, but that’s for one spell. After a spell is cast, she has to take at least fifteen minutes to get back into a light trance or her control will dissolve again. This will continue at least until Fall 511 A.V., at which point these symptoms may be reduced if you can get a DS or Founder to moderate a thread with a Priest(ess) of Rak’keli (3 marks of gnosis) doing some serious work on her to reduce them. And even then, she will be fixated on that staff. She may not hear voices, but there will be the equivalent of Sweet Whispers attached to it as she fixates on the idea that it will help her regain her focus and control. Pain, some of the same applies to you with regard to skill levels. Gunto is Competent with his kukri and there is some leeway for elbows and knees and whatnot coming into play with that skill, but a lot of what he does falls under Unarmed Combat, Brawling, or Wrestling as we have previously discussed. However, even with a gnosis mark from Myri, he is a Novice in those things, and I think you are pushing the envelope... toward a cliff. Where below the Myrians have made a bonfire to dance around. I realize it is fun to play a one-man army, but your sheet does not support it. Also, I have tried to work with you all on the NPC issue. If you are going to throw some self-modded mercenaries into your fight thread, I have no problem with that. An Expert level Leecher, however, requires moderation. Also, any NPCs that are Captains of the City Guard or other important members of the domain require moderation. I have had to ban characters from the Kelp Bar for baring steel. This may not be Syliras, but it isn’t Sunberth either. And if this was Syliras and you decided to NPC a Stewart Knight, Selena would kill your character and feed him to the warhorses to make them more vicious. Sami, a “friend” to stay with? Okay. A friend who has political clout? Needs an HD ticket per the rules on NPCs or at least needs to be okayed by the domain storyteller. In future, I am going to need both of you to submit a list of all NPCs you intend to use within Zeltiva so I can approve them. I am perfectly willing to moderate for you, but you need to communicate these needs with me. On the positive side, I am giving you full XP for your endeavors and it was all very descriptive. But do remember that 6 XP of Suvai mean any Competent mercenary is going to gut you like a fish. Feel free to PM me if you have any questions or concerns. Let’s work together, play by the rules (a little bending is permissible), and have fun! I don’t like playing bad cop.

[Gossamer]

Moderator Note: Hi guys. I'm sorry but after reading the thread, I'm going to be the bad guy here disqualify it completely (including the XP award) unless the thread is seriously fixed. Tabernac has not had to deal with this type of situation before, so I don't blame him for trying to point out errors but still awarding. DS's need to be advised if a thread has so many issues it takes the length of a post to explain them, then they need to be disqualified. My major issues are as follows. Locations that don't exist. NPCs that are made up & used without permission (including militia). Overuse & Use of magic and combat inappropriately. Thread done without moderation when it absolutely should have moderation. If these blatantly inappropriate issues are fixed, I'll remove this intervention.