The Raven, Whose-Name-Offends-The-Common-Tongue as he was beginning to go by, flew lazily in the breeze over the Caravan below. He was watching the events transpire before his very eyes, though not as well as his counterparts. The Nocturnal creatures whose eyes were better suited to the task, still when one was given the option to work, they rarely refused. 

He swooped low to catch the glimpse of creatures moving about, setting themselves up for a perfect ambush. These people, the Caravaners, they were simple it seemed. Even the Raven could see that. They were no heirarchy driven by both age and exceptional talents, these creatures seemed more driven by... Well, he couldn't quite tell. It didn't seem the same way that the birds ran things, then again, nothing was as wonderful as to be the same. 

For a moment, the raven considered what had brought them to this point. Whether delivering the message from that roost was really such a good idea. It had brought him closer to the prospect of being a respectable delivery agent, but had also given him the task of following as the group went out on their hunt tonight. That didn't make any sense to them, as they weren't nocturnal, and while they could see well in the dark, it was nowhere near the talent of those involved in the prospects usually. Still, they flapped their wings and kept on going, knowing full well that stopping and thinking further on the task would only lead to a mistake or fault. 

Suddenly, Whose-Name-Offends-The-Common-Tongue realized where they were and what amount of time had passed, and made the directional movements to angle themselves downward and towards a waiting band of brigands that were, for all tense and purposes, the birds friends. 

Vargos, a short man with scars across his face and a few missing teeth, smiled as the bird flew down and landed beside him. He was beginning to enjoy the company of the creature. It had a wisened look about it that, when he was pressed, he would say gave it an air of someone rather annoyed with their job. He liked that. He felt largely the same. 

With a kick, Vargos woke Rusuilini from their slumber. 

"Wah!" They asked, face far prettier than Vargos' own. 

"Its almost time," The man said. His words came out slightly wisped due to a speech issue he'd had since he was a kid. Something to do with nerves they'd always told him. 

"I figured that," Rusuilini said. They were tall, even for an animal kin. The broxceous were always more akin to the creatures they'd fight. Rusuilini was no exception, their body was covered in fur and they had a particularly panther-like appearance about them. Even the leathers and draping cloth couldn't cover the legs, which bent at strange angles to Vargos. 

Rusuilini growled a low, predatory sound that would have set some on edge. Vargos merely nodded and stretched his short legs. They'd been seated for some time, and that wasn't going to change until the creature beside him flew up to inspect the area once more. Vargos gave the Raven a quick bite of meat, then sent it back up into the sky. 

It had occured to him that the use of a Raven for such a task was peculiar, and that the needs would have likely been better filled with the usage of a nocturnal beast. Perhaps an owl, they were similarly wise and often far less forboding than the Raven. Still, he wasn't going to judge a creature purely on its appearance, he'd judge it on the work it did. So far this Raven, whose name Vargos had yet to learn, was becoming quite the asset. It wasn't of any real use, aside from message trades and scouting, but since he could just barely understand the creature, it made the whole thing far simpler. 

"What do you think we'll have to do?" Rusuilini asked after a time. They had set themselves up within a small bubble of perforated magic that, when properly used as it was, would allow them to have a fire going without the concern of being seen. It was only a safety gesture for the fact they didn't want their team exposed to the possibility of being found by the Caravan, but it still seemed to ease the concerns of the two present. 

Their teams were similarly relaxing in areas nearby, small camps set into the forest that had been hastily assembled through the evening and into the night when the caravan had halted. They'd been tracking them for the past week, but tonight seemed like the right night for the attack. They hadn't been able to spot their target yet, which was becoming rather a nuisance, but they were still assassins damn it and they'd accomplish their goal no matter what. 

Vargos kicked the dirt in triumphant mental calculations, drawing Rusuilinis attention. 

"Are you alright, friend?" 

Friend. Vargos didn't have friends, they were in this for the long haul. They wanted the position of power that Farken had. There were the one that was going to claw their way up to the top. Rusuilini was just a companion with very little interest in climbing the ranks, and more interest in getting wet. However, he wasn't going to outright rudely decline the invite to pleasant chat, so he nodded. 

"Oh, fine. Just a bit excited is all." 

"Thats the spirit." Rusuilini said. "Surely you've been on more than a few of these though. Not that this is your first time." 

"Oh no," He said "I've been leading these since I was a kid." It was a lie. He'd been given his first command as a teenager, but that hadn't mattered to him. He'd felt childish when it failed and he was given no more chances for the year and a half that followed. 

"So you have some experience with this whole thing then?" They asked 

"Something like that," Vargos said, trailing the words off "Why do you ask?" 

"Well, I'm just kinda new to the whole thing is all." 

"New to what whole thing?" 

"Leading an attack." Rusuilini gave a sheepish smile, a feat quick entertaining to see done by a panther-like being "I'm still new to the whole, 'leadership' thing." 

Ah, Vargos thought, So that was it. They just wanted some pointers on the best things to do and not do during a raid. Well that shouldn't be too difficult. 

"Need a few tips?" He asked 

"Do you have some?" 

"Of course, firstly. This excitement is normal, and some people use it to get themselves ready. I feel I may be one of those people. Secondly, don't worry too much about everything. Keep an eye on your team and they'll keep an eye on you." 

"What else?" 

"Third. Make sure you have comfortable shoes." 

"Comfortable shoes?" 

"Its important when you're running and moving that your feet not cramp up or feel otherwise terrible. Unless of course you want to be caught off guard." 

"Surely it's not that important." 

Vargos gave a sly smile and shook his head. "I suppose I'll have to leave that to you then." 

"What else." 

"Just those three. Be excited, watch your teams back, and wear comfortable shoes." 

"Thats it?" Rusuilini asked skeptically 

"Thats it." 

"Huh," 

"Yup," Vargos pulled a flask from his pouch and undid the top, took a pull, then handed it over to Rusuilini, who accepted with a gingerly grasp. "It isn't all that complicated. Just dangeorus." 

"When do we strike, and whats the target again." 

"We wait for the Raven to return, tell us its all clear and that they've set up camp for the night. Then we wait an hour, head in, find the girl, kill her, loot the camp, and leave." 

"Sounds simple enough." 

"It should be." He said. "Not like the Caravans are usually well protected." 

What really worried Vargos was the area they were in. They had wandered into the territory of the cockatrice tribes that lived along the mountains towards the coastal roads. The beasts were known to be drawn to noise. It was important, then, that they simply find their target and get out. Nothing more, as it could draw their attention. 

He'd had to fight his way past a Cockatrice on more than one occasion, least favorite of them all was when it had been a target that owned one and had forced him to fight it. He'd nearly lost a limb in the process, what with their abilities to turn people to stone and what have you. It was a dangerous world out there, and he was no fan of it. Not really anyway. 

"What about the beasts of the area." Rusuilini asked 

"Just keep the noise down and we'll be fine." He said. "Not like they're interested in something that can fight back anyway, but its better not to risk it." 

"Agreed." 

The Raven flew down a few minutes later, taking a position perched atop a stand of papers with a single stick protruding from the side. It flapped its wings a few times and trotted back and forth on the stick. Seemingly contented with its job, it hoped up once more, flew quickly towards Vargos head, and perched atop his hair. Vargos gave an annoyed grumble but otherwise made no move to remove the creature. The Raven took its new position atop the mans head with an air of authority. 

"I suppose," Said Rusuilini standing. "That that was the signal." 

"I would say so." Vargos said.

He stood, and with a quick movement, produced a whistle from the front of hsi shirt and blew into it. The sound was nearly silent, but all that were listening would know its meaning. It was time to attack. 

"Was that a raven?" Morgan asked. His eyes fixed on the black creature in the sky above as it swooped and circled in a decidely strange fashion. He wasn't familiar with birds usually, not more than the next person, but something about the creatures actions just felt... off. Like it was waiting for something. 

"Don't be silly," Artessa offered from over a book "They're not nocturnal, there'd be no reason for a raven to be awake this time of night." 

"Are there other creatures as dark and forboding?" 

"As a raven?" She asked. Artessa folded a finger into the book and held it on her lap, clearly realizing the conversation was going to take longer than she had hoped. She thought on the answer for a minute, "Perhaps an owl?" 

"I think I know what Owls look like." He said. "And they don't look like ravens." 

"What is with your sudden fascination with a raven?" 

"I just," He paused and looked the sky over once more. With the three moons above, each in their own state of regression, the light was finicky but present enough that one could see the details of the rocks and tree sides in the faint moonlight. Reflection of the ball of death that hung in the sky daily as they were, they offered little in the way of answers to where the bird had gone. "I thought I saw something." 

"A bird?" She asked "Yes, you likely did. Perhaps it was a bat? They're small and Raven like in a certain light." 

"Now you're just patronizing me." 

"What? Me? Never." She unfolded the book and fingered the page until she eventually found her place. "Was there anything else that you needed before I get back to reading?" 

"I suppose not, not that I needed you for the Raven either." 

"Clearly you did," She said "Because you seem to believe that one is circling." 

"It just feels strange to me. Aren't we protected by the spell?" 

"They have to set it up each night," She said with an air of frustration "It takes some time. Look, are you going to let me get back to reading or not?" 

"I suppose I may not," He said, folding his arms, "Not if you're going to be that way about things. I'm sure I can come up with a number of questions for you." 

"I'm sure you could." She said. She fit the bookmark back into place on the page and closed the tome. She was certain that it wasn't going to be used anytime soon at this rate. 

"What are we planning on doing in Flarda that involves Baron Udvel?" 

"You're going to ask that now? During a conversation about Ravens and their nocturnal habits?" 

"It wasn't just about Ravens," He said "By your actions you have made it about other things." 

"I suppose," She gave a sigh "I suppose thats fair, but I don't feel comfortable talking about it right now." 

"When do you think you will?" 

"I'm not sure, Morgan. I guess we'll just have to wait and see." 

Morgan nodded and understanding to the sitation, she was upset and that wasn't what he'd hoped to get from her. He did have questions however, and those weren't likely going to go away. Instead he focused on the prospect before him and made the motions to change the subject. 

"What can you do?" 

"Excuse me?" 

"What can you do, magically?" He repeated, tacking on the last word as a way of channeling the conversation through the durldromes of minor debate. 

"I don't think I follow." 

"You said you were a caster, correct?" 

"Thats correct," She said.

"So, what can you do?" 

"That isn't such a simple question. I doubt you even know what you're asking." 

"I'm just asking if you can turn a frog into a fish, or if you can change the weather. Some of the best wizards and sorcerors could." 

"And rarely could they do it more than once every few weeks."

"Huh?" He asked stupidly 

"Magic takes time to learn, and unless you have a grimiore infused with the spells, carefully recorded and maintained, you need to memorize them. That takes time and effort, and then you cast them and you repeat the process." 

"Sounds like everyone should just have a grimoire then." He said. 

"So one would think." Artessa shook her head "But it isn't that simple. It takes time to enscribe spells into a book, and even more to make sure there are safeties to prevent the spell from bleeding out. Even then, if you use the spell too much it can wear on the book and page." 

"What about fire?" 

"What about fire?" 

"Well," He said, sitting up a tad straighter than he had been before "What about when we cast fire with out fingers. Or when they teach you to cast the spell for flames, they burn your hand in the fire so you memorize the feeling. Why don't people just do that." 

"Some do." She said "but its hardly as simple as burning yourself to cast flames. It takes more work for the specialty spells, and not everything is as simple as heating up air around you."

Morgan didn't have a response. 

"Think about it like this, imagine you want to move something. But to move something you need to use force. You decide 'gee i'd rather move it with magic' and try that. Do you understand why this wouldn't work?" 

"Because magic is a system that uses the forces of the world around to properly tie things down to the world?" 

Artessa blinked "No." She gave a stern look, "Don't be silly. It's because magic isn't the answer to all of lifes problems. It'd take the same amount of energy to move the damn thing with magic as it would to do so by hand, there would be no reason for one to use magic for it, not if they're gunna end up just as tired." 

"But what about casting and using magic makes its easier." 

"Nothing about it is easier. It's just different. I'm so tired of people thinking that magic solves all the worlds problems. It doesn't. You can spend your whole life learning to turn copper or bronze into gold just to become wealthy, only to find out theres a tax on the process that means you make nearly nothing in the event you succeed. The whole things rigged!" She threw up her arms and the book fell onto the wood of the cart. 

"Sounds..." It didn't sound fun, but weirdly it sounded like being a criminal. "familiar. Life as a theif was roughly the same. You don't pay to the government, but you pay to the boss that protects you, and if you don't pay well... Well..." 

"I understand." 

"Thats just the thing, I think you do. If magic is all taxes and rules, then you know fairly well the route that thieves have to take. They're just the same. Each and every house you hit has a bracket asscocaited with it, and you have a percentage you need to pay to the boss to keep yourself healthy enough to keep up the racket." 

"Sounds fraught." She offered

"Oh it is." He nodded "Just terribly so. It's enough to make a man want to go back to a life of living by the rules." 

"Not nearly enough for you though, was it." 

"Well..." Something like a smile approached his face. He'd found the prospect of paying and garnering protection something of a racket himself, and had managed to find ways into and out of the situation for some time. That had amounted to no less than five private meetings with local hotshot-boss types that were looking to remove the corner cutters from their fields. He'd had to admit, things had been interesting at the time. 

A noise like a sack of flour falling caught the barest of his attention and drove him out of the seat he was in. He rushed up to and peered through the fabric covering over their wagon and caught sight of nothing. No one moved, no one stirred, the outside was simple and relaxed from all that would have caused the noise. He tensed, things were too quiet for their to have been a sound. 

Morgan stepped back into the room and, with a look of concern, raised a hand to Artessa. 

"I'm going to check on a few things." 

"Like?" She asked 

"Did you hear that sound? Like a sack of flour falling to the ground?" 

"Not that I can recall," She said "When was this?" 

"Just a moment ago. It caught my attention." 

"If you're just bored of the conversation you can simply say so. You're not hurting my feelings." 

"It seriously was a noise that drove me fromt he chair." He said "Though the conversation was a bit boring." 

"I knew it!" 

"That doesn't mean that I was trying to escape from it. I simply need to check on a few things." 

Morgan stepped out of the wagon and into the cool air of the evening, finding himself alone in the dark. Artessa gave a call of acknowledgement a few moments later then returned to her book, leaving him to explore the exterior of the camp by himself. 

He didn't find anyone. Davi and the others, the groups that were normall around, always finding a way to stand around the fire as the first thing they did when stopped, were all gone. No one else was present in the camp, and that concerned Morgan more than He'd considered it would. It was a sudden realization that you were alone in a building with the knowledge that you hadn't been some minutes prior. 

"Hello?" He croaked, then straightened his back and raised his voice "I mean, Is anyone there? Davi?" 

No response. 

The wagons were all set in there usual pattern, several small circles around fires that crackled, As he stepped out from his own circlet, he saw that the other camps were lively and with people. That filled him with a strange sense of relief. 

Then he noticed something about the way they were moving, and that relief vanished once more. They weren't dancing or singing or eating. They were fighting. Groups of the carvaneers were weilding weapons in their hands and striking against creatures or figures in black. 

Morgan took a step back and felt his foot fall atop something. It was a sword. Someone had dropped a weapon and it rested on the ground now, looking to all the world as if it hadn't been used. Without a moments hesitation, Morgan rushed back to the wagon that Artessa was seated in and threw open the curtain. 

"We need to leave," He said. "Theres something wrong."

"Going somewhere?" A figure in a black outfit crested the light behind him and picked up the sword from the ground. "that wouldn't be very sporting."  

The figure in the black robe looked them over and gave a sound that sent chills down Morgans spine, it was like the licking of lips mixed with the viscous sounds of saliva overflowing. He shuddered to think of what was behind the mask. 

"Wouldn't be very sporting at all." It said again. 

"That doesn't really concern me." Morgan offered. His blade was some distance away, set against the outside of the wagon for when he would go on watch. That was postponed tonight it would seem. 

If he could move quick enough, he might be able to make it to the sword before the attacker could get off a strike at him, but that didn't account for Artessa. He needed her to live out of this as well if he was going to get paid, so he readjusted his plan. He'd have to stay and fight until she could flee, then he'd grab his weapon and defend her. 

"Oh," The creature said. "But I think it does. We're looking for someone. Someone like you," It stuck out a crooked finger towards Artessa and made the slopping noise once more. "I think you're who we're after." 

"I doubt that," Morgan said. "She's hardly worth the effort." 

"Hey!" 

"Quiet you," It said. It took a step forward into the room, coming off its dominant looking foot. Morgan took the chance and lunged into the creature with a heavy dive, bashing his shoulder into the creatures jaw. 

The metal shoulder of his armor caught onto the fabric and drove a strike directly into the creature, sending it falling backwards and out of the wagon. It struck hard on the ground with a resounding crack as Morgan toppled over the side with it. They collapsed together onto the dirt, but the creature, whose face was now revealed to be something of a lizard-folk, only seemed to twitch occasionally. 

"Are you alright?" Artessa asked. She used a foot to move aside the curtain and looked over the destruction before her. "I think you killed him, er, it." 

"I think so too." Morgan said standing. "That wouldn't be the only one though. Come on, we need to move." 

"What about the others?" 

The sounds of clashing weapons and people screaming filled the air around them. It was something that Morgan hadn't heard in some time, but instantly set his body on edge. He felt the nerves in the back of his mind begin ot race faster and faster, taking in everything as they processed the enviroment around him. This wasn't the war zone he'd been in before, but it was a conflict that he needed to survive. That was close enough. 

"Forget the others." He said. "I need to protect you. Thats all that matters. Now if they're here for you, the best we can do is leave them behind and hope they chase us." 

"But-" 

"Artessa!" He gave her a firm grip "You hired me to protect you, so that's what I'm going to do. You'll follow my orders and I'll keep you safe. Now, come on. We need to leave." 

He let her go and ran to the otherside of the wagon, grabbing his blade and coming into contact with another of the attackers. A quick exchange of thrusts and parries say the creature dropped and Morgan back on his way to the front. Artessa hadn't moved, but had seemed to have grown much more upset at the situation. 

"Just because I hired you to protect me, doesn't mean that I'll follow your every order." She said. 

"Does it have to be a conversation right now?" He asked, exasperated tone leaking into his usually friendly demeanor. 'Usually friendly' being the way he refered to the case of a resting-face-of-anger. 

"I didn't apprecaite being grabbed so forcefully." She said. 

Morgan heard the sounds of someone rushing up behind him and turned in time to see a blade swing towards his head. He darted back and slammed into another Wagon that was parked alongside their own. Artessa was gone, disapearing into their wagon. 

"Oi!" He shouted, "I was talking with someone." He flicked the tip of the blade into the creatures chest and pierced the torso. They fell back with surprised look in their eyes, attempting to swing once more with the dagger before collapsing to the ground. 

Morgan peered down at the body of the creature he'd just dispatched and inspected the outfit. Something about them seemed to be familair, but he couldn't place exactly what it was. He was certain that they looked like people he knew, and they had a distinct Anun-Felrid look about them. It was something in the gaite or the steps that gave it away, the outfits perhaps did a little more to color the perspective. They were black, but of a certain black that only came from the night markets in the Felrid square. 

He poked aside the black cloak covering the creatures chest and saw a symbol of a dagger entering a heart. It wasn't much of a give-away, but it certainly colored the perspective of the situation. He realized, a moment too later perhaps, that the people he'd just killed two of were assassins of the Assassings group of Anun-Felrid. One of the most dangerous groups in the whole of the Empire. After all, one rarely lived so close to the Imperial Capital without being at least somewhat decent at their jobs. 

He wondered, perhaps drawn by the two corpses on the floor beside him, why they were so easy to kill. Certainly the assassins of the great guild would have sent along some people a tad more suited to the task of tracking and killing a single woman. If he were smarter, and in the loop of situations involving the upper echelon of the Assassins, he would have been keenly aware of the attempts by one lower ranking leader to circumvent the whole of the organization in an attempt to kill another leader. 

Several actions had been taken to do this. The first of which was that most of the assassins sent on this mission, were new and poorly trained at that. This was somethning of a tactic in the business, used to flush out poor recruits. The second was that their was a use of a Raven instead of an Owl, so the scouting had been only half as well done as it could have been. Third was that the plan, as it stood currently, would fail. There were too many Pere that protected the Caravn for the small groups to actually make a dent in the defenses, but the fact that two had nearly made their way to the target was by both luck and pure hapensatance. In fact, there would not be such a conveience as this, until several milenium in the future where a diplomat would, rather unfortunately, knock on the door of the assassin hired to kill him while in search of a bathroom. 

Morgan stared at the corpses, completely unaware of the events transpiring around him, but keenly aware that things were about to get very stabby if he wasn't careful. He made a move to cast aside the curtain of the wagon, but found that it was pulled just before he could reach it. Artessa stood in the doorway, carrying a few dozen books and looking to all the world as a crazed librarian. 

"You said we should leave." She said from her post. "Then we should leave. I just need to put these away." 

"Put them away where?" He asked, but she was already rushing towards the second camp nearby. Morgan gave a curse and followed behind. 

"Yargh!" 

"Huaoh!" 

"Don't stop moving, if you stop you're dead." 

"Find them! Kill them all! Loot the Caravan when they're dead!" 

"What are you doing?" Morgan wailed. 

The pair made their way through the carnage of the second camp, bouncing between bodies and over fights that seemed to breakout out of nowhere. Artessa kept herself composed and constantly on a mission, Morgan doing his best to follow closely behind. 

"Where are you going?" He asked again.

"To find my luggage." She said without turning. "It was somewhere in this caravan group, and I can't leave without it." 

Morgan dodged an arrent swipe and swung low to cut into the legs, dropping the target with an offensive cry. He was doing his best to keep pace with her, but even with the load of books she carried, she was managing a matter of speed that he found remarkable. 

"Surely you don't need the luggage." He cried. 

"Of course I do." She replied "How else will I-" She stopped. A blade flew threw the air and stabbed into the wall beside her. Artessa froze, perhaps measuring whether or not the object would move again, insistent that it wouldn't she made the quick motion to move around it and past. Morgan followed with an irritated look on his face. 

"I said I'd protect you," He said "But that didn't include running into a death trap where the attackers are all after you." 

"They're not after just me alone." She said "You heard them, they're also after the treasure of the Caravan, surely that should be enough to distract them." 

"They're assassins!" He threw up his arms "They kill people, not rob people!" 

"Whats the difference?" 

"In this economy?" A man asked. The pair turned to see an assassin with a blade sticking out of his back. He made the distinct expression of realization on his face, before falling onto the ground limply at their feet. They pressed on. 

"They're here for you." He said. 

"Thats just what one of them said." She replied. "That doesn't mean they're all here for me." 

"Why can't you just listen to me." 

"Because I'm your boss," She said, fetterings of strength entering her voice where none were before. She could do this, she could pretend to be strong, even if she didn't feel it. "And I've made the order that you're to-" She dodged a swipe that would have clipped her ear. Morgan ran to protect her and parried a coming blow. 

For her part, Artessa got back to the duty of finding her luggage. It had been taken from her when they first boarded the Caravan and she hadn't been the biggest fan of that. Still, she had a general idea of where it was and what was going on, so all she had to do was load the books into the box and they could be on their way. She really didn't get what Morgan was being so overly protective about, surely Assassins had more important things to do than outright waste time dying. 

She was wrong, of course. 

Vargos gave a scoff and spat in the direction of the man. 

Before him was the field of distorted fires and dying comrades. The whole plan had fallen apart, and there was nothing more he could do about it. The careful planning, the lining up, the recon, all of it had been for nothing. All thanks to one man. 

Rusuilini. 

Vargos could see it now. Now that time had passed and he was actually looking for the clues. He could see the path that Rusuilini had taken. He'd made sure that they were assigned together, a ranked recruit and a newbie. The pairing was odd normally, but he hadn't thought anything of it. He'd been excited to share the knowledge of the guild with a newer person. Instead he stood surrounded by former friends, most of which were dead or dying, and was locked in combat with a man twice his size. 

"Just give up," Rusuilini said. He bore down on the man with twin ebony blades, looking to all the world like a werewolf with a kink for black. "No one will protect you now. You're going to die for what you did." 

"What did I do?" Vargos asked, stepping back and blocking a thrown blade. The broxecousian before him was still fresh with weapons and hadn't made the same mistakes he'd done. 

"You killed my father." He said. 

"I did?" Vargos asked. He didn't remember killing a broxceoan, not outright anyway. Surely he would have rememebered a killing like that. "I don't recall doing as such." 

"Typical." Rusuilini said. He snarled a vicious look and bore his fangs with resentment. He dipped low, and without warning, charged into the conflict. 

"I'll kill you!" He screamed

"There you are!" She cried, a gracious smile washing over her face. Artessa placed the books down onto a nearby rag that had fallen and pulled hard at the chest that was burried into the wall of objects. It didn't seem to want to give. 

"You found it?" Morgan asked. He stepped a foot back and dropped a coming target. A thrown blade struck into the wood beside his head and he readied for the next attacker. 

"Yeah," She said, "But now I have to get it out." 

"That shouldn't be too difficult." He sighed. "Please tell me it won't be too difficult." 

She groaned in exhaust as the pull against the wooden object resulted in little more than an inch or two of actual movement. She sighed. "It may take longer than I thought." 

Vargos ducked low and felt the wind of a blade swipe past his cheek, there would likely be another scar in the morning. What mattered now, though, was getting to see that mornign instead of being dashed aside by the coming threat of the creature before him. 

Rusuilini, the broxecoian-panther-like creature dipped into a pounce position and dashed across the distance to tackle into the shorter man. They rolled across the field and collapsed together into a bundle in the center of the area. 

"What are you doing!" Vargos demanded "This is madness." 

"Madness is what you drove me to after taking my father from me." 

"I never killed a broxcecoian. At least none that I can remember, and I remember them all." 

A fist drove itself into Vargos face and spilled a spatch of blood against the grass. It was swung with some strength behind it. Strength that, if it weren't for the actual awareness of the reason, he would have suspected was family related. 

"LIAR" 

Another slam of meaty punches found purchase in the soft flesh of Vargos face and he found himself slowly losing conciousness. He was grasping at the bare minimum of his life and hoping to find something to cling on to. He found a blade, and that was enough. 

With a strike, he drove the balde into the back of the creature atop him and felled the beast as best he could while hacking up lung fulls of red substance. He struck again, and agian, and again into the man, making sure that each strike dug home into the heart of the monster. 

When he finished, he fell to the side took in deep breath fulls of sticky, cool air. He breathed deep the noises and sounds of the area. They were losing, and if he didn't get up quickly, he'd be dead too. He found himself trying his arms, hoping to use them to rise from the ground, but they were unresponsive and he instead simply rolled to one side. 

"Sir," A concerned Assassins stepped from the darkness nearby and placed an empty hand atop him. "Are you alright. 

"Fine." He said "Fine. Just enjoying the floor some," He rolled onto his back and gave the new figure a smile that extended from the eyes to a mask. He faked it, if nothing else. The assassin seemed to understand, or comprehend the smile at least, because it stood and made its way back out into the frenzy of the losing fight. 

Vargos stood some minute later, the raven landing atop his shoulder as he looked around at the emptying lot. Things hadn't gone their way, that was certain, there was only one thing that could make it worse, and that would be a-

"Cockatrice!" cried a Pere.

"Hurry, Hurry!" Artessa cried, luggage bouncing in her arms as she ran. 

"I'm hurrying!" Morgan shouted. 

A spout of flame licked at their feet as they made their way around the side of the wagon and towards the tied down animals. Artessa led the charge and bound through groups of pere and commoners. 

"Quickly now," She threw the trunk over the back of one of the creatures, a large Clydesdale with a torso taller than Morgan standing, and it shifted in shape to fit the rear of the beast. She clambered atop the creature with an air of urgency and extended a hand for Morgan. "Come now, We need to move." 

"You don't have to- Hey!" A slice ran against his back and audibly ripped the fabric. Morgan spun around to face an assassin with a long blade, similar to his own. 

He quickly fell into his stance and readied to defend against a coming strike, it came a moment later. He parried and drove the blade low just as a blast of heat ripped through the air violently and splashed into the creature. Morgan turned to follow the direction it had come from and found Artessas hand extended. 

"Come on!" Her hand outstretched once more, Morgan took it happily and wrenched himself atop the horse. He slid into the lead position with Artessa gripping his back. "Go!" 

"Right!" He struck the reins and the beast reared up, then fell into trot. 

"Run!" Cried an assassin

"Save yourselves!" Shouted another

"Pere! To me!" Called a stern voice. "We need to gather our strength to repel the beast!" 

"Flee!" Came the wail of another. 

"Captain!" 

Vargos stood in the center of a ring of chaos erupting around him. He couldn't place the exact motions of every single person, but he could track just enough to know that things had gone very poorly. With the betreyal of Rusuilini during the attack and the overwhelming number of Pere forces currently active, the whole pan had gone rather tits up. He cursed and looked to the younger man who, as it so happened, was similarly distraught by the current events. 

"We need to leave," He said. "Gather the forces and have them regroup at the second reandevous." 

The figure gave a crisp salute and rushed off, wailing into the night for all Assassins to retreat. Vargos, blade in hand and body finally standing, looked around to in take the scene. Three men, Pere by their look, were engaging the Cockatrice in combat. A number of commoners were gathering around in huddled masses doing as scared folks do. Most of the remaining assassins were retreating into the forest. 

Vargos gave a whistle and the ficker of darkness illuminated by the three moons in their positions above swooped down and struck into a coming attacker. The Raven clawed quickly into the man, scratching at the eyes and leaving lasting wounds, before flapping away and into the air. Vargos used the distraction to rush out and away from the caravan, deep into the woods.