Storyboards: Czrel

Joining Adventurers | A dream saviour | Memories | The barn house | Vulture's Nest | Runaway Groom | Czrel | Dawn of Merchants | Gone | Morning dose | Night dose | Lost dose

Joining Adventurers

The spring sun was shining high and bright on the fields of Algar. On these plains, trees were a unusual sight but anyone who sought shade for a lazy afternoon would head for the nearest one he could find. It was a lucky day for a certain young lone traveller. He had just noticed a wounded wild rabbit. Unable to run from him, it quickly became a hearty meal. As if that was not enough, the young traveller found a tree in his path that could well provide a cooling refuge from the blazing sun. It was a perfect place to have an afternoon nap after such a good lunch.
Lying down against the strong tree trunk with his hat over his face he slowly shut his eyes. He was enjoying the melodious orchestra of wildlife and little breezes through the leaves when he was interrupted by the sounds of hooves from a horse coming his way.
'That'd better be some loaded fool, ' he sniggered softly, 'Then this would really be a perfect afternoon.'
As he peeked under his hat at the passerby, he gasped. It really was his lucky day! The rider had all the likes of a farmer. A rich farmer that is. The rider had multiple coin pouches strapped along his belt and heavy bags that hung from the saddle. The bags made clinking sounds as the horse trotted along, making it quite obvious that they contained coins. Hardly able to contain his bursting excitement, the young traveller let out a loud laugh. Upon hearing the laughter, the farmer stopped his horse.
'You have a joke to share young man? ' he asked while getting off his mount.
'Oh it's nothing, ' replied the traveller, 'I was just thinking this is my lucky day. ' The older man only smiled and listened. '... I wanted to know directions then you appeared, ' said the traveller as he closed in on the farmer. 'Sheer luck.'
Just when the sneaky young man was about to swipe a coin pouch clean of the farmer's belt, the latter spoke in a gentle voice,
'I am lost too, ' the farmer said while looking into the traveller's eyes. 'Perhaps we can go along this path together?'
Feeling a bigger oppurtunity coming up, the traveller agreed. Moreover, the farmer allowed the traveller to ride the horse while he walked.
'My lucky day, ' the young man thought. It was silent as they moved along until the traveller figured it was best to strike. Yet again the older man spoke just before he raised his fingers.
'Do you know where we are going? ' the farmer asked. Taken aback by the sheer coincidence, the dismayed traveller only shook his head slightly. 'You would be glad that we are going to where this gold is kept, ' the farmer said while patting one of the heavy bags on the saddle. Then suddenly, the farmer slapped the horse's hind. As if knowing his masters will, the horse let off a loud neigh and galloped off into the open fields. The traveller was shocked. The bags really held gold but the horse was charging at top speed into the middle of nowhere. On top of that, it was his first time riding a horse. He held onto the reins for dear life, not having the guts to loosen his grip a little. As he rode by the fields, he could see some sort of a settlement ahead.
Finally, the horse decided to stop in front of a small grass hut. The traveller dismounted hastily but just as quickly, he fell to the ground in utter amazement. The farmer had stepped out of the hut to greet him with his very own name.
'Back so soon Czrel? ' The older man smiled. 'It was very kind of you to ride my horse and my gold back. ' Dumbfounded, the traveller stared blankly at the farmer. Not only was he able to will his horse, he could sense ill intentions, he could travelled instantly, and he even knew the young man's name without being told. The older man only smiled and waited patiently for a response. Slowly the traveller regained his sanity.
'Could you... teach me... I... let me learn your ways... please, ' he stammered, 'I want... I want to learn anything you would want to teach me. ' Able to sense the eagerness, awe and remorse in the young man's eyes, the farmer decided to forgive him for wanting to steal his gold. He reached out his hand towards the traveller. As the traveller held the farmer's firm hand, he felt a sense of belonging and a desire to follow and learn from the older man. The farmer then pulled the traveller up to his feet.
'I hereby welcome you, Czrel, to join us, ' the farmer said proudly as he motioned towards the rest of the settlement. 'We are the Adventurers! '

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The quest

It was a typical bright and sunny day on the fields. A young man was resting under the cooling shade of a tree. He was enjoying a moment of respite when suddenly everything went misty and silent. Then there was a sweet scent of herbs. A tall, elegant woman slowly materialized in the mist. She crossed her slender arms in a graceful and dance-like movement. Her long, blue-black hair cascaded down her back, and her matching blue eyes gleamed. A snake, coiled around a tiny silver dagger, hung from a chain around her neck. For a moment, its tongue flickered, then it became still once more. The young man stood up and tried to reach out to her, but strangely, he blacked out.

It had been an uneventful week for the young traveller ever since he set foot upon the Adventurer's settlement. Lord Mortiris, the farmer who was in charge of the clan, had given him mundane tasks of a farm hand. He watched over the cattle for most of the week and occasionally, he had to plough the fresh new grasslands into arable farming grounds. It was not much of a tiring job but he put in his best efforts and the farmer did see it. Nearing the end of a fine evening's sunset, Lord Mortiris told the young traveller about a special person.
'There is this elderly man in the city of Sendar, ' the farmer said while settling down beside the young man to watch the last of the sun set beyond the fiery orange horizon. 'He's the well-known quest master and he has a whole long list of people in need of dire help. ' The young man turned to his lord, his eyes brightened like the setting sun.
'So you are allowing me to go ask a quest from him my lord? ' The older man smiled gently and nodded.
By sunrise next morning, the excited young traveller was already on his way.
After a day of rest at the Hostel of Sendar, the young traveller had finally decided that he was ready to meet the elderly man. Stepping out of the River's Bend Tavern and into the streets, he asked a passer-by for directions. Quite coincidentally, the quest master’s home was only across the street. Grinning at his luck, he quickly crossed the road, a humble house with an aged oak door stood before him. Without hesitation, he lifted his fist and knocked on the door, only to find that it was not closed tight. He then pushed the door ajar and entered.
The room was dim and an aura of mystery. Immediately, the sharp eyes of the young man caught an elderly man resting quietly in a corner. But before he even opened his mouth, the elderly man greeted him first.
'Czrel is it?' The quest master smiled warmly. 'Ah, Lord Mortiris told me of your arrival.' The puzzled traveller removed his straw hat and scratched his head.
'Did my lord come by? ' He enquired. The elderly man merely chuckled.
'Take a seat and relax son, ' he said while standing up to offer the young man a cup of tea.
'My name is Floyd and I have a task for you. ' The traveller took the cup and listened. 'Chere, the waitress at the River's Bend, needs some aid, ' Floyd continued. 'I suppose you might want to go over and help her. ' The young man took a sip from of tea and then nodded, he got up and left promptly.
The River's Bend Tavern was where he had come from earlier and he knew whom Floyd the quest master was talking about. The waitress was a charming lady with black hair, green sparkling eyes and a beautiful smile. The young traveller wasted no time in trying to get her attention. 'Oh, Czrel! ' Chere exclaimed as if he had been such a surprise to her. 'Floyd sent for you? ' The young man only nodded slightly. Quickly the waitress dragged him into a corner of the tavern. Peering around, she secretly pulled out a small envelope from her pocket and passed it to the young man. 'Deliver this to the Drasnian Armouror in Muros, ' she whispered. 'Make haste Czrel and mum's the word. ' With a mischievous wink, she sent the dazed traveller on his way. The young traveller was so shaken with disbelief. Everyone seemed to know his name without being told. Nevertheless he had a task to complete and by doing so he could earn the trust of his lord. After asking for directions, he mounted his stallion and left Sendar for Muros.
Having travelled about half a week, the young man ended where he was supposed to go. However, he could not believe the words of the Sendarians. They told him that Muros was a city of trade but this did not looked like one. There were only tents of various sizes and the presence of permanent buildings was minimal. After entering the "city", he was shocked to realize the huge difference between the clean streets of Sendar and the trashed filled roads of Muros. Remembering his purpose, he quickly set out to find the Drasnian
Armourer so that he could deliver the letter to him before nightfall. He peered around, looking for a Drasnian who might be selling armour. Luckily, his eagle eyes spotted his target nearby. He geared up his stallion and sped off towards the armouror. 'Fellow Drasnian? ' He whispered to the armour maker as he dismounted his horse. 'Czrel? Is that you? ' The merchant stopped his work and replied. Oddly, even the Drasnian Armouror knew his name. But he was already getting used to others knowing him in advance, and it did not annoy to him any longer. In a matter of seconds, the conversation died as the delivery was done. Now the young traveller had to get back to Chere in order to inform her that he completed his task.
'It couldn't be that simple, ' the young man thought while he rode his stallion away from the market square of Muros. Traders of all sorts had begun to pack up for the day and most of them had already left the trading tents. The traveller gazed up into the evening sky as his horse trotted along relaxingly. He was enjoying a cool breeze when suddenly he felt a sharp, jerking pain.
A fist had landed on his left ribs out from nowhere. Catching him unaware, it came again and hit him on his jaw. This time, the traveller was punched off his stallion. As he cried out in pain, he could taste the fresh blood that was oozing from his gums. His stallion neighed aloud in fright and galloped out of sight.
Sprawled on the ground, he wanted to get up to see the assailant clearly. But before he could clamber to his feet, a heavy boot smashed into his stomach with full force. Unable to withstand the pain, he let out another cry. This time a torrent of blood followed, as he spat the crimson fluid all over his overalls. Not giving the traveller any time to retaliate, the attacker swung another mighty blow at his jaw. Luckily, the young man had regained his balance and dodged the fledging fist. Now he stood face to face with the attacker, a tall and strong Murgo. The young man knew he stood no chance if he fought on.
'I knew it couldn't had been that easy for me, ' his thoughts raced. He could flee, but he would not have a horse to runaway fast enough. Without warning, the Murgo pounced on him and sent a crushing punch to his nose. The hit was the straw that broke the camel's back.
His nose was fractured and it bled profusely. Drops of red liquid splattered all over the dusty ground. He fell to his knees in despair and waited for the attacker to deal his final blow. 'Weakling, you Drasnian! ' The Murgo smirked.
'Now you die. ' He raised his fist and prepared to kill the young man.
Suddenly, a Nyissan woman appeared behind the Murgo assailant. She resembled the woman that the young traveller had seen in his dream; blue-black hair and gleaming blue eyes. Then he saw that chain with the little snake entwined with a dagger. He knew it was her. She was the woman in his dream. The woman wasted no time. She swiftly drew her snake hilted dagger and plunged it deep into the attacker's back before he could kill the traveller. The Murgo let out a blood-curdling scream and spun around to hit the woman instead. But she was too fast for him. In a flash, she flew behind the Murgo and stabbed him again. Crimson blood spilled everywhere onto the Muros' market square. Frustrated, the attacker watched the woman carefully first before he struck. However cautiously he threw his punches, the slender Nyissan was always ahead of him, dodging and avoiding his every move. It was like a dance, just that the dance wounded the Murgo badly.
Finally, the woman swung her staff at her dance partner's head and knocked him out cold. Then with another swift swipe of her dagger she cut the assailant's throat, killing him instantly. As the body slumped onto the ground the woman turned to the wounded traveller. 'Let's get you back to Sendar.. '
The young man heard those last words of concern before he collapsed and blacked out.

A familiar sweet scent of herbs stirred the young man from his state of unconsciousness. Slowly, he regained vision and began to sit up on a soft, warm bed. The woman who saved his life was seated beside him. He could recognize her and his lord next to her.
'Lord Mortiris, ' he struggled to speak.
'Rest well and talk later, ' the farmer interrupted. The two figures only smiled gently at him while he rested. After a while, the woman got up and began to leave. But before the farmer showed her out, the young man summoned up his remaining strength to ask the woman. 'Saviour, may I know your name please? ' The woman turned and grinned at the injured traveller.
'I am Raines. Fieron Raines. '
Happy that he had finally came to know his saviour, he broke out a weak smile. Floyd's quest had, at last, come to an end and it was only his luck that brought the Nyissan woman to him. He had survived to live another day as an Adventurer.

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Memories

He could feel waves of intense heat scorching his skin. Slowly, he opened his eyes. Ahead of him was a town, ravaged by a menacing inferno. The flames of the fire danced like hungry demons, licking at the dark orange sky. Smoke bellowed from everywhere as far as his eyes could see, absolutely obscuring the horizon. He could almost feel the heat pulsating through his veins as though it was boiling his blood. Although his vision was blurred by the constant assault of heat on his weakening eyes, he could see a faint svelte figure of young lady standing on a heap of burning rubble. There were flames all around her, tasting her sandals and the hem of her white dress.
He wanted to call out to the girl. He wanted her to escape. But words refused to exit his opened mouth. Oddly, his limbs were too denied of movement. Totally powerless, he could only watch in despair, the inevitable torching of the girl.
Gradually, the fire enshrouded her and began to consume its prey. As the girl’s hair began to burn, she stretched forward her arm and seemed to be reaching out to him. Feeling deeply puzzled by her actions, he began to question himself the identity of the girl. But he had no time to let his thoughts race.
He sensed immediate urgency to rescue her from being charred. Summoning all of his strength to move, he finally tore away from his immobility. But alas, the burning girl only seemed to drift further and further away for each step he struggled. He began to grow desperate. Finally unable to control his emotions, he let out a pitiful wail. Strangely, he sounded like a toddler crying for his mother. Then it came together in his mind like a completed puzzle. He had realized that he was reliving a memory. A painful one long buried into his forgotten childhood.
At last, the flames had conquered the girl. He could hear her quiet sobbing. Perhaps she was crying for she would miss her child. Then using her last breath, she softly whispered his name.
'Czrel... '
With that, she finally succumbed to the hunger of the tormenting fire. She collapsed and her blackened remains laid on the equally charred landscape lifelessly. She had ceased to exist. Czrel continued to stagger toward her corpse. But the heat, smoke and his broken heart faltered him. He crumbled to his knees, tears flowing like streams down his hot, reddened cheeks.
Suddenly, he sprang up on his bed. It had all been but a nightmare. But his tears were real and his heart hurt deeper than any mortal wound. Lying back down, he cuddled his blanket and wept silently to sleep. As he slowly drifted back to peaceful sleep, he softly called out, in between sobs, to his lost kin,
'Mother... Mother... '

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The barn house

Occasional trips to Sendar for quests given by Floyd became a sort of routine. The farmer would reward his hardworking farm hands by allowing them to go on such journeys. To Czrel, even if the trip meant hefty preparations and extra work, the thrill and experience he could gain was so much more valuable. As he was about to leave the settlement, the farmer reminded him of the Murgo mercenary again. It became more of a lesson than a mishap with the Murgo bearing the full price with his life. It had only been a couple of days since he breathed the sweet scent of herbs from his saviour and he had begun to miss it already. With all the farewells from the rest of his brethren, the young traveller mounted his steed and left for Sendar.
Czrel had always liked being out in the great outdoors. The bright sun, the beautiful clouds and blades of grass gently swaying in the cool wind had a special attraction to him. He knew the great nature like his very own life was a priceless gift to be treasured forever. But as he rode on towards Sendar, his sharp senses began to detect acts of misdoings. He felt a strong presence of destruction in a distance, accompanied by a pillar of thick bellowing smoke.
'Fire, ' he thought. Shaking his head, he hastily reared his horse and sped off towards the column of smog.
The smell of burnt flesh and burning wood immediately struck his nostrils as he drew close. When he arrived, a barn house was truly on fire. He had hope the blazing inferno had not taken any life. But as soon as the traveller reached the building, he saw the side ranch littered with carcasses of livestock. He frowned, unable to deduce anyone who would have the audacity to kill defenceless livestock and burn them. He slowly paced his horse to round the fire. Just when he reached the back of the barn house, he spotted a hooded figure swiftly ducking out of sight. The young traveller felt curious and began to give chase. Sure enough, the black cloak sprung from its cover and dashed away into the woods.
'Hold it right there arsonist! ' The young man yelled. He started to feel angry about the senseless massacre and destruction. Enraged, he rammed his heels into the stallion's hide and geared him to charge ahead at the culprit. But his impatience cost him his mount. Equally furious, the horse shot up and stood on his hind legs causing Czrel to be thrown off the saddle immediately. The horse then merely snorted and galloped back into the wild. The young traveller was dazed. All he wanted was his horse to give chase with full speed. Lying on the blackened grass, he buried his face in his hands and blamed his own impatience and incompetence.
Suddenly, he could hear a male voice snickering softly at him. Fearing that he might be in danger of the arsonist returning to strike him, he sprung up onto his feet. True enough, the hooded figure stood at arm's length from him. The young man quickly drew his utility dagger from its sheath and without hesitation or plan, he screamed and attacked. But the tall slim man sensed the traveller’s nervousness. Pulling out a short sword, he swung it at the fast approaching dagger and parried it off. The vehement swing was able to disarm the young man of his sharp tool. Then taking advantage of the situation, the cloaked man quickly took of his hood and yelled at traveller.
'You could have died!' Czrel regained control of his mind. He had totally allowed anger to take over his emotions and his body. 'Wield your dagger! ' The tall man continued his reprimands. 'Have you got two left hands? ' As the young man squinted his eyes to recognize the familiar voice, his vision began to reveal the identity of the man.
He was Gares the Algarian horseman, one of the mentors of in the clan Adventurers.
'And what a way to treat your horse, ' Gares commented, 'You should try getting kicked like the way you kicked him. ' Czrel merely stared blankly at the tall Algarian. Knowing that he was a master at both combat and horseback riding, Czrel would have a great time learning from the experienced man.
But the young man had other queries. He wanted to find out the identity of the arsonist.
'Surely it could not have been Gares, ' he thought as Gares went on about treating horses with respect. He wanted to listen and learn from the mentor but he could no longer hold his curiosity. Just as he wanted to ask the horseman, he was interrupted.
'And if you thought I was the one who burnt this barn house, ' Gares patted the young man's shoulder and said calmly. 'No, I came a little too late. ' The Algarian turned around and peered at the smouldering ruins. 'I would want to punish the culprits too, ' said Gares. He shook his head and returned his attention to the young Drasnian. 'Maybe you could go along and play investigator, ' Gares smiled and suggested. The young man's eyes began to sparkle with excitement. Then the Algarian's brows furrowed. 'After you're done with my lessons that is! '
Learning was fairly easy for the young traveller. He was an intelligent youth like most Drasnians were. But honing and perfecting his new skills would all depend on his determination and diligence. Gares had little to worry about teaching the young man although he knew that it would still take sometime for his younger clan brethren to earn experience. There was much to do for Czrel. He had to learn to treat a horse with care and use his dagger with caution. He was a total wreck in combat, sometimes even wielding his weapon at the wrong end. The Algarian's task was to make him get used to brawling and letting him go on a quest to find the arsonist would be a good chance for improvement.
This time around, Czrel will have to prove himself worthy of being called an Adventurer. He had been mostly doing farm work at his lord's settlement and then spending good time lying in bed due to injuries. The young man had seen his share of heroism and loyalty. Now it was his turn to show that he could be capable of the virtues that others had shone on him. He, alone, would take on the sole task of capturing the culprit responsible of wrongfully destroying other's property and livestock.
Night fell onto the darkened ruins. Only just yesterday, a proud barn house stood on where the rubble now heaped. Cattle, poultry and crops surrounding the building were all annihilated and burnt. Czrel had not since left the area. He had witness the building being razed while carcasses littered the fields. The young man had concluded that the arsonist had ulterior motives for burning the barn house. He could observe that a certain part of the house was left untouched. The culprit should be targeting something important inside a room where the house was not ravaged by the blaze. Czrel had resorted to sneaking around the half demolished building to avoid detection. He feared the arsonist might return anytime to retrieve whatever that was not destroyed.
A floorboard creaked as the sneaky young Drasnian crept through the roofless house. He had tried to remain as stealthy as he could but the moonlight kept every corner of the ground floor lit. Having no other choice, he hid behind the shadows of a half fallen pillar and waited patiently. If his theory was right, someone would turn up to take from these ruins. Outside, a cricket chirped. Instead of breaking the dead silence inside the barn house, the cricket only added to the eeriness of the night. Time past slowly. But Czrel waited in anticipation. He could sense someone would come and retrieve whatever that was left intact.
Two hours had gone by without a single movement or sound. The shadowy figure behind the pillar remained rooted, eyes fixed onto a patch of charred ground brightly lit by the moonlight. He had started to stray from his belief that the culprit will come when suddenly he heard sound.
'The same creaky floorboard! ' His mind screamed a warning to him. He could feel his heart pumped faster, gushing adrenaline all over his body. Yet he remained quiet and still even thought he could barely contain his thrill. Then he saw the arsonist. He, unlike Czrel, was a bulky and rigid looking fellow. Although a mask obscured the face, he sensed that his target was a Thull. He moved slowly and silently but the young man could not help but notice the clumsiness of his opponent. He watched on as the Thull slipped once again into the shroud of shadows around the burnt barn house.
Now, two shadowy figures lurked around the blackened ground. One was searching for a treasure of some sort while the other was looking for a chance to strike. Czrel took advantage of the Thull's lack of awareness. He kept following the Thull stealthily until he found out where the Thull wanted to go. There was actually a trapdoor in one of the back rooms. The Thull had left the safe covers of shadows to unlock the door. Still not noticing Czrel, the Thull slowly opened the trapdoor and disappeared down the stairs.
'Should I go down? ' The young investigator thought. 'What if it is an ambush? '
But before he made a move to trail the Thull into the basement, he saw a figure resurface from beneath. It was not the Thull but a different person altogether. The traveller's mind rushed with thoughts
'What's happened here? ' The sleek looking one asked. He seemed oblivious that the fire had ever occurred. 'Hey Nolcue! Who the hell did this? ' The Thull then came back from underneath the barn house.
'Sorry boss, ' the Thull stuttered while struggling with a heavy load he got from the basement. 'I was getting cold and hungry. ' The other man flew into a rage.
'What did I tell you about the fireplace? ' He pulled the Thull hard at his collar. 'Never light a damned fire here! ' The sleek man was fuming with anger. 'Fire means smoke and smoke means we get discovered! ' Fearing that he might be too loud, he peered around to check for intruders. Then he lowered his volume and stared at the Thull. 'Fool, ' he whispered. The Thull merely nodded and continued to struggle his way out off the house with the heavy box.
Czrel kept quiet all along. If he made a noise, he would have to fight both of them. That would be too difficult for this young investigator. Questions raced through his mind. As the Thull staggered along his way out of the house, the sleek man escorted him while muttering and swearing under his breath. Czrel took his opportunity to sneak into the underground room. Swiftly but silently, he crept down the unlit stairs, away from the glaring moonlight. The whole basement below was dimly lit. There were various boxes of different sizes lying around in a messy fashion. The boxes seemed to be left there hastily. He moved towards a box and lifted its cover. The young traveller was shocked. He stood rooted on the spot as the cover fell noisily onto the floor. Gold coins filled every corner of the human sized box. Czrel had never seen so much gold in his entire life. He slowly put his palm into the coins and grabbed a handful of them. Then he raised his hand over the box and watched the coins fall back in as he loosened his grip. It had certainly felt wonderful to a youth who had never been able to even buy new clothes.
'Who are you? ' A loud, furious voice boomed. It came from above Czrel and it broke him away from his thoughts. 'How did you get in here? ' Footsteps shuffled quickly down the stairs.
'I shouldn't have made so much noise, ' Czrel thought. He spun around and in front of him stood the sleek man. His features, now under the dim lighting, gave him away as a Nadrak. The man's brows were tightly knotted together. Obviously he was enraged about his intrusion. Then he pointed at the Drasnian and screamed,
'Get him Nolcue! ' The Thull leapt from the top of the flight of stairs and tried to smash the young traveller. Skilfully, Czrel sidestepped and cleanly avoided his manoeuvre. Then he wasted no time drawing his dagger. Now it was the best time to show off his polished combat skills.
Nolcue clenched tight his fists and his teeth. Angered that Czrel had dodged what could had been a fatal move, he swung a right hook. The traveller swiftly dodged and dashed towards the Thull's back. 'Now is the chance! ' His mind screamed. Without hesitation, he lifted his gleaming dagger and plunged it into Nolcue's back. Crimson blood poured out of the deep, wound. The Thull cried in pain and collapsed onto the ground. 'That was fast, ' Czrel muttered. Confident of his skills, he twirled around to find the Nadrak. Strangely, the sleek man seemed to have fled.
The Thull, who had been convulsing and writhing in pain, had fainted. The pool of blood beneath him seemed to grow bigger. Although Nolcue was an enemy, Czrel feared for that he would die. The Thull would be the only clue to knowing what exactly had happened. But as he silently hoped that he could find a way to move the heavy Thull back to his lord's settlement, he heard a familiar voice calling to him from above.
'Czrel! ' Then Gares appeared at the trapdoor. He came just at the right time.
'A thull? ' Lord Mortiris asked. The two Adventurers had laid the unconscious man onto a bed. 'He's heavy, ' commented Gares as he wiped the blood off his sleeves with a cloth. The farmer then turned to Czrel. As he unsheathed his blood stained dagger to show his mentors, he related the entire incident to them.
'The Nadrak, withthis Thull, could have been stealing from us or the neighbouring towns, ' Lord Mortiris deduced. 'Well done. 'Then he patted the young man on his shoulder. 'Good job on stopping them at least temporarily, ' praised his lord. 'Not bad at all Drasnian boy, ' Gares smiled.
'We're glad that you, like us, can now be a full-fledged Adventurer! '

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Vulture’s Nest

The Thull stirred. Slowly, he came awake. But before he could react, the farmer uttered a word. He fell silent and went into a state of trance.
'Lie down, ' Lord Mortiris commanded. The Thull's eyes were filled with rage but he slowly weakened.
The questioning began. It was not an interrogation whereby force would be used to coerce information out of the Thull. It was rather a peaceful talk, like a father would to a son. With Lord Mortiris' gentle cajoling, Nolcue eventually gave in and spilled the beans about the Nadrak and him.
Not only were they stealing and robbing neighbourhood towns of gold, they siphoned off huge sums from public funds to temple donations. They also did a sort of trade that disgusted the farmer when he heard it. They kidnapped random people, usually children and women, for various reasons. They demanded heavy ransoms from the rich ones and smuggled the poor ones off to slave traders or brothels. They made a lot of gold, but it was not enough for them. They resorted to blackmailing businessmen and coercing shopkeepers so that their mountain of gold could enlarge. Gradually, their organization grew. They recruited men from all over the world and from all relevant trades so that they could seize control over pricing of slaves and other factors. Now, the strength of this organization had grown to a size comparable to an army. If it were to be left unchecked, many more innocent lives will be at stake.
Gares was infuriated after hearing Nolcue.
'What audacity! ' He shouted. 'How many families and lives have you people ruined? ' He drew his sword but just as when he was about to strike the weakened Thull, Lord Mortiris stopped him.
'No Gares, ' he said while easing the weapon out of the Algarian's hand. 'Killing him won't solve anything, would it? ' Then he turned to the Thull. 'Tell me, where can we find your leader? ' Upon hearing that question, Nolcue broke into a laughter. It was a spine tingling and frightening laughter of a mad man. Czrel gritted his teeth and took a step back to seek refuge behind the Algarian's back. But the farmer, being ever patient, waited for him to end his bout of laughter. In the end, Nolcue started to sob sporadically after he finished laughing. Everyone in the room could see that he might have his reasons for joining the organization.
Czrel had stepped out of the farming shed and into the sun. He just could not bear to witness the poor Thull cry so bitterly. Nolcue had admitted that his own wife and son had fallen to slavery under the very organization that he worked for. This was due to the fact that he had owed a huge sum of gold and the only way that he could pay it off was to work for the organization. On top of that he had sell his son off to the slavers and his wife to the brothels. He had a pitiful life. Urmela and Collenia had both followed the young man out into the open.
'Irritating wail, ' Urmela commented. With that she went off to see to her own chores. Collenia patted Czrel on his shoulders and smiled.
'Worry not, ' the priestess comforted him. 'He will be fine. ' Then she left, leaving Czrel to ponder about the sanctity of life and the evil that had despoiled the lands.
Meanwhile inside the shed, the patient farmer continued to pursue his questioning.
'Calm down, ' he soothed Nolcue. 'Tell us who had gotten you into this. ' Gares nodded.
'Yes, perhaps we can help you free your family. ' The half sedated Thull merely shook his head.
'There are too many of them out there now, ' Nolcue said softly, his sobs gradually stopping. 'The Nadrak man with me that day, he was only a group leader. ' Nolcue continued to shake his head, this time his heart filled with despair. 'Even after serving 3 years in the organization, I have not seen the mastermind yet. ' He bowed his head and sighed, then breaking into soft sobbing again.
'Relax, ' Lord Mortiris patted Nolcue on his back. 'We will find out who is behind all these nonsense soon enough, my friend. ' The Thull was shocked to hear the farmer call him a friend. He looked up and smiled weakly at the two mentors. As the two men smiled back, he was relieved that his nightmare might be over soon.

Or so it seemed.

A fortnight had past since the Thull had leaked information about the organization. It was called The Vulture's Nest, an obvious name for an association ruled by an unknown hierarchy of greedy men who would stop at nothing to let their riches grow.
They would resort to anything, illegal or not, so that they could attain power and wealth. Now, to the Adventurers, they had attained nothing but notoriety. But they still had no clues on the whereabouts of this group and their location of activities.
Thus Lord Mortiris, being the right and just leader of the clan, had set an order for his clan brethren to stop any slave trading activity they spot or other trading of this sort.
'This is generally a skin trade, ' the farmer concluded in a brief meeting with his council. 'Something that we cannot sit by and watch. ' Collenia stood up and added
'We will stop these vultures together. ' But Gares frowned,
'Someone has to go out there and spy a little on them for information. ' Lord Mortiris smiled. He had the right person in mind.
The young Drasnian had been going to and fro Sendar since Nolcue came to the Adventurer's Settlement. He went on these frequent trips to visit Floyd, the ancient questmaster, for small tasks to occupy himself and gain experience while Nolcue agreed to take over his farming duties. The young man had quickly forged a new friendship between the Thull and himself. He apologised for hurting the Thull on that fateful night. Nolcue forgave him but he wanted the Drasnian to teach him the proper use of the dagger. Then they sparred every evening after dinner with their daggers so that they could improve from one another. Gradually, they became steadfast friends although the older man was about 10 years the younger's senior.
On one occasion, a trip to Floyd's yielded a surprise. Czrel had been awarded a special dagger from the elderly man. His many efforts in helping Floyd had not gone unnoticed. Although his new weapon did not look anything other than normal, he felt a strange bond to it. It made him believe in morality and kindness and that having them was critically important. As he came back to the settlement, he showed off his prize to the rest of his clan and was duly praised. Czrel was entirely enthralled by his new accomplishment. He felt a great sense of achievement. But more exciting news awaited him after dinner.
The entire clan would sit together at a long, sturdy wooden table in the main hall and to have their dinner. Lord Mortiris would usually sit at the front end of the table with his council. Collenia would lead the group for a short prayer to thank the Gods for the meal that had been given to the Adventurers. Afterwards, someone would give a short speech before the meal would begin. That day was Czrel's turn so he had decided to use the chance to thank the clan for their encouragement and support that he was now a recognized quester at Floyd's humble home. Applauds rang and whistles blew as Czrel wrapped up his speech of gratitude. Then the meal began
Everyday, new lands were turned into arable farming grounds. These ground were Moreover, they had cattle, poultry and a stable for horses. It was just like a academy for bold adventurers and a home for valiant heroes. It was a simple dinner. But no one complained. It was the result of their hard toil.
Everyday, new lands were turned into arable farming grounds. These ground were ploughed and seeds were planted in them. Then they would eat whatever they produced. Moreover, they had cattle, poultry and a stable for horses. It was just like a typical Sendarian farm, ran by . The only special thing was that it was actually an academy for bold adventurers and a home for valiant heroes.
As dinner came to an end, Lord Mortiris stood up with a fork in one hand and a glass goblet in another. He cleared his throat and gently hit the cup with the utensil. After the sharp sound had quietened down the group and caught everyone's attention, the farmer announced his decision for the person most suitable to go on the spy's job.
'May I have your attention Adventurers, ' Lord Mortiris said out aloud. 'The council and I have unanimously decided the person to go for the spy mission on the slave smugglers and skin traders. ' He paused for a moment while soft voices murmured all along the table. 'We have decided to send our very own Drasnian, ' he then turned to smile at the skinny young man. 'Czrel, my humble farm hand! '
Czrel was elated for being chosen to go on such an important task. It meant that he could both serve his clan and help his new friend at the same time. But he was already half expecting that his Lord and his council would vote for him. Czrel had been very actively helping Floyd and at the same time spotting to get new members for the clan. His minor achievements had finally put him on the limelight. Now that he had the important task, he would not want to waste anymore time delaying. Hastily, he left the table and headed back to his room to pack his belongings for a long, weary journey.
Little did the Drasnian know that this job was not meant for someone like him. He was still too inexperienced. It was not that Lord Mortiris had chosen the wrong person for the job. The farmer wanted to test his new member, a new mentor in the clan. His test would be to escort Czrel and aid him along his way. The only catch was that the mentor would have to remain unseen and unheard. He would only be a subtle presence in aiding his young clan member to his success.

The sky turned dark as the young Drasnian reached his first stop at Sendar. It was a familiar place to him as he had frequently helped the questmaster out. The guards nodded at him as they recognized him and let him enter the city's gates. The rain fell.
It felt like cold mercury dripping relentlessly on his tanned skin. He pulled down his sleeves and raised his hood over his head to prevent the rain from drenching him. The commoners of Sendar hurried by to find shelther. In no time, the market square was cleared of the usual crowd. As the downpour became heavier, Czrel decided it was best that he headed straight for the River Bend's Tavern for a warm cosy refuge.
It was around afternoon as Czrel entered the tavern. Chere greeted the Drasnian with a wide grin. The rain outside had brought in an unusual bevy of customers. The tavern was getting packed so Czrel had to share a table with the others. He eyed the group gathered around his table carefully before he sat down. There was a burly sailor, a tall handsome Rivan and a hooded man sitting with him. The waitress came to the table and mentioned something about not having enough vacancies and ale to go around. But
Czrel was not paying attention to Chere. He was looking over his shoulder at another group huddling close to a table behind. They were whispering among themselves. As the tavern grew crowded, their hushed voices were gradually buried away.
'Angaraks, ' the sailor slurred after having his last mouthful of dark ale from his stein. The Drasnian turned his head back to his table and raised his eyebrow at the Cherek. The sailor then nodded at him. 'Yes, the fools at that table, ' he turned and gestured his empty mug toward the cloaked men. 'Bloody Angaraks. ' Czrel frowned. He was sharing a table with a drunk sailor. He knew that sailors would rarely miss a fight in their drunken stupor. The young Drasnian then turned his eyes on the Rivan.
He sat upright on his chair, body stiffened and eyes staring straight towards the Angaraks' table. He seemed to be enraged by them but he managed to his hide his anger well. Although his grip on the sword sheath lying on the table tightened, he remained expressionless. The fourth man, however, remained cloaked and still and continued to hold his silence.
The Angaraks grew wary of the group staring at them from Czrel's table. They ended their soft whisperings and sat up straight. At the corner of his eye, Czrel could see the hooded men draw their weapons from under their table. As the tavern slowly filled up with patrons, the noise grew unbearable. Even the soft, soothing music playing in the background was muffled by it. The atmosphere between the Angaraks and group at the Drasnian's table intensified. Eyes were now staring and tempers were frayed. The noise was too beginning to break the thin tread of peace.
Czrel began to figure that this was not his idea of a warm cosy refuge. Perhaps he should have included peaceful as one of his ideals. He was on a quest to hunt down theband of skin traders, slavers and bandits known as The Vulture's Nest. But for now he would be caught in the middle of an unnecessary tussle between a drunk, a swordsman and a bunch of conspiring Angaraks.
Finally, the sailor broke the thin red line. He stood up and aimed his empty mug at one of the Angaraks. But before his muscular arm could let fly the stein, an Angarak pointed at him and murmured a word. The glass mug shattered to a thousand shards. Infuriated, the Cherek leapt from his seat onto the cloaked men. At the same time the Rivan got up and unsheathed a glimmering broad sword. Then he charged along side the drunk sailor.
Immediately, a fight occurred. Czrel had predicted it right. There were screams from the rest of the patrons in the tavern. Tables were battered, chairs smashed and glass mugs flew all around and over Czrel's head. Total pandemonium ensued. The Drasnian could spot the sailor pounding a pair of Murgos, breaking their teeth and ribs. The swordsman was mostly parrying attacks that went for the sailor's back. Together they worked like a team. Or perhaps they were a team in the first place. Other patrons, which included drunk Sendarian guards, slurring commoners and even sober legionnaires, were fighting among one another in a mess of confusion. The tavern turned into an arena. Many customers fled in terror. Czrel got up to fend for himself but his sharp eyes spied the hooded man at his table leaving the tavern among the chaos. As he turned to follow the man, a huge Thull appeared ahead of him and blocked the exit.
'Out of my way! ' The Drasnian cried. He could not let that man flee. He seemed like a spy who held vital information about The Vulture's Nest. But now he was hindered. 'Out of my way dammit! ' The huge fellow refused to budge. Although Nolcue was too a Thull, his build was nowhere near that of this man's. His arm alone was nearly as thick as Czrel's body. But the Drasnian was the least fearful of him. 'Out of my way! ' The furious young man repeated. Instead of complying, the huge Thull threw a punch at the Drasnian's head. Czrel then backed away just in time. Now his patience had dwindled. He drew his dagger from its scabbard to threaten his opponent. The Thull merely smirked at the sight of the small and nondescript weapon. He grinned and taunted the Drasnian,
'That's the way, hurt me with your little knife. ' Czrel's grip tightened. This must be a planned move. While the main man escaped, his lackeys would cover his trail. Without warning, the huge man swung another blow at Czrel. He calmly ducked and darted to the Thull's side. But the entire tavern's exit seemed to be blocked by his opponent's sheer size. Czrel's eyes squinted as he devised a quick plan to evade. Working fast, he stabbed the man's thigh and almost immediately tripped him. The Thull fell as calculated. He landed heavily on a nearby table, breaking it to pieces. The impact knocked the brute out cold. Seeing that he laid there motionless on the smashed table, Czrel took a wide step over to the exit. But before he sped off to find the hooded man, he heard a voice called out to him from within the chaotic tavern.
'Hey Drasnian! ' Czrel turned his head to find the Cherek sailor bashing his way out of the crowd. The swordsman followed tightly behind. Oddly, as the entire tavern was turned inside out, the very person who started it all was strolling out of the mess as if nothing had happened. 'Yea you Drasnian! ' The sailor had caught up with the young traveller. Czrel eyed him cautiously. He did not seem quite drunk now. 'Saw you back in there. Whacked that good 'ol Thull. ' The Cherek smiled. The young Drasnian had no time for small chat with big guys. He had more important things to see to now. One of which is to track dash down the hooded man at his table just now. He moved along the alley back into the wet common square, his eyes scanning every possible corner where a person could hide. But the pair of troublemakers just would not stop following him.
'What do you want? ' Czrel turned suddenly and stared at the Cherek. The sailor stopped in his tracks and chuckled.
'Nothing much really, ' he answered politely. While the sailor appeared nonchalant, the Rivan behind him constantly had his hand on his sword hilt as if ready to strike an enemy if he had suddenly appeared.
'I must leave, I can't stay to talk. Perhaps next time, ' Czrel replied hastily. But as he was about to continue his search for his target, the Rivan spoke.
'I apologise for the trouble we've caused, ' the tall, handsome man said in a smooth, calm voice. 'I know you are trying to find the fourth man at our table just now in the inn. ' Czrel felt strange that the swordsman would know but he nodded nonetheless. Still expressionless, the Rivan continued, 'We had been watching him since we stepped into River's Bend. ' The sailor snickered.
'After I had gotten my drink, you came in, ' the Cherek explained. 'We two found you sort of wary of him. Czrel was beginning to get the picture. Both the sailor and the swordsman were after the hooded man too. Perhaps they would have some information about him or maybe even about The Vulture's Nest. As they talked, the Rivan led the way for the trio to the stables. Soon, they were out of Sendar. Little did they know of the troubles that lied ahead of them.
'So the both of you created a scene so that he would flee from the tavern, ' Czrel said with enlightenment in his voice. The Cherek nodded. The cold rain continued to pelt the three men as they travelled along a forested path outside the western gates of Sendar. 'Why do you trail him? ' the young Drasnian asked out of curiousity. He was hoping the two fighters would be having the same reason as he but the Cherek replied pointing to the swordsman,
'He was told to capture the bugger dead or alive. But it seems I've joined the fun. ' Czrel knew his theory was partly right. No sailor would miss a fight, sober or drunk. Czrel continued to ride with the two men while slowly combing the area. He could ask them whether they knew about The Vulture's Nest but he hesitated. Hethought that not everyone would know that an organization with such high levels of secrecy existed. Even if The Vulture's Nest committed everyday crimes, not many people would come to realize that it was the work of a single organization.

The sky was getting darker by the hour. Even under the lush canopy of leaves, the group was still drenched by the merciless rain. Black clouds gliding across the sky indicated strong winds. A storm brewed but the trio trudged on to find the Angarak's tracks. They were determined to track him down. But the harder they tried, the harder the rain fell on them. Finally, they decided to take shelter in an abandoned cabin. The Cherek was eager to rest inside the log cabin. He moved excitedly ahead of the group and pushed open the heavy wooden door. But all he got was a nasty surprise.
The moment the sailor pushed opened the door, someone inside uttered an inaudible word. The next thing the sailor knew was that he was repelled from the door and flunged against a nearby tree. The Cherek's weight broke the tree as he hit it. Then he fell to the leave littered forest floor unconscious. The pair behind were stunned. Someone inside the cabin had attacked them. Instinctively, the Rivan withdrew his sword and without any hesitation, he charged ahead into the cabin.
The occupant was displeased to find another intruder running into his shelter. He frowned as he watched the swordsman brandish his weapon. The Rivan rammed into the dark figure, sending him sprawling on the cabin floor. Then he adroitly swung his sword at the figure's neck, slicing the head clean off. But to his horror, it was only a piece of cloth on the floor. He realized that he had only cut a cape into two. Shocked by his mistake, he desperately scanned the room for the cape's wearer. But however skilful a swordsman he was, he was no match for his opponent. In a flash, the dark figure was already outside the cabin standing right behind the unsuspecting young Drasnian.
'Drasnian! ' The horrified Rivan shouted from inside the cabin as he saw the dark figure unsheathed a small knife. 'Behind you! ' The Drasnian remained stunned.
'What is happening? ' Wild thoughts raced within Czrel's mind. He was in a state of confusion and that was what the dark figure wanted. The Drasnian would be an easy target if he was disorientated. But just before the knife landed, Czrel dived forward onto the forest floor. He had dodged a fatal blow just in the nick of time. The dark figure muttered a curse under his breath and pounced onto the Drasnian. As a flurry of stabbings closed in on him, Czrel hastily rolled side to side on the ground to avoid being hit. The attacks were too fast. Czrel had almost no time to dodge, much less draw his dagger for retaliation. Unable to hit the agile Drasnian, the hooded figure changed his attention back to the Rivan.
The door refused to open no matter how hard the swordsman tugged or pushed it. It was delibrately jammed so that he would be stuck in the cabin. But the swordsman had his ways. He charged at full speed at the door and managed to bash it down with his strength. Now it was two on one against the dark sorcerer. From the corner of the dark figure's hood, both Czrel and the Rivan could see a smug grin. There was almost no possible way for the both of them to defeat a sorcerer as neither of them could cast a single spell. But that was what Czrel thought.
He had least expected it when the swordsman pointed at the hooded man and muttered strange words instead of using his broad sword. Suddenly, bolts of lightning shot from the Rivan and tore the air as they streaked toward the sorcerer. But he merely stood there as the lightning bolts hit him. It seemed as if the swordsman's spells were only child's play to him. The dark figure remained rooted on the spot, unscathed by the lightning that had just hit him. Then he began to cackle like a madman. A cackle to mock the Rivan's weakness.
The swordsman could take the humiliation no longer. He gripped his sword tight and dashed towards the dark sorcerer. This time, the Rivan's slash hit the dark figure. But despite being cut, his insane laughter continued. The pair could clearly see crimson blood oozing out from the fresh wound, but the sorcerer merely pointed his finger at the stunned Rivan.
'My turn now? ' His question to the swordsman was filled with sarcasm. Then he murmured his word. A blast of white, hot flame blew forth and hit the Rivan's face. Immediately, the swordsman was disarmed and knocked backwards. He buried his face in his hands as he fell to the ground. There he laid, twitching and convulsing from pain.Terrified, Czrel gasped. He had almost felt the sharp pain for the Rivan. Slowly, the swordsman stopped writhing on the ground. The Drasnian fell to his knees in desperation. It was only left with him and the sorcerer. The hooded man began hisinsane cackle again and turned to Czrel. Then he began to move towards him. Fear had struck so hard on Czrel's heart that he was rooted on the spot. As the sorcerer approached him, he could clearly see that the wound was gushing blood. But even as the red fluids flowed steadily down his thick black cloak, he continued his cackling. It was beginning to torment Czrel both mentally and physically. Weakened, the Drasnian fell to his knees and covered his ears to muffle the noise.
Finally, he could take the mad man no more.
'Silence! ' he screamed. Strangely, the dark sorcerer ended his laughter. Czrel could clearly see him smirking from under the covers of his hood. 'You… You're the one at our table...' the young Drasnian stammered. He felt nauseous, as if his heart was squirming its way up his throat and forcing its way out of his mouth. He was certainly having a bad time controlling his own fear. Slowly, the dark figure raised an arm and unhooded himself. As the hood fell, Czrel's heart pumped even harder at the sight of the man. He remained on his knees, dazed and dumbfounded as the unhooded sorcerer moved and closed in on him.
Eventually, Czrel was staring up at the man's eyes. The rain continued to fall onto the forest clearing. Large droplets of rain welled in the Drasnian's eyes. In his blurred vision, he could see a hand moving to his head. Then he felt sharp pain as fingers closed in and grabbed a handful of his wet black hair. The hand tugged at his hair then pulled him up to his feet while the rain endlessly pounded on.
'I couldn't believe myself, ' the sorcerer began to break the frightful silence. 'You're that meddlesome Drasnian at the barnhouse. ' Czrel remained silent. He was now at the mercy of the Nadrak. 'Although Nolcue was clumsy, he was one of my best thieves, ' the Nadrak scowled. 'You had to interfere you fool. ' Images of that night at the desecrated building slowly replayed in the Drasnian's mind. The sorcerer shook his head and spitted in disgust. 'To think my men could fall to a puny pest like you. ' Then he relaxed his frowning. Still grasping the hair of the weakened Drasnian, he fixed his gaze onto the latter's eyes. 'There's a saying that goes, if you can’t beat them, join them, ' he smirked. 'So you shall join me to compensate the loss of my best Thull. ' As he continued his stare, he muttered a long phrase of words. Then Czrel's mind began to collapse.
His life flashed before him. He saw his mother perish in the fire. He saw the Adventurer's settlement. He saw his lord, his mentors and the rest of his clan brethren. All of them were fading away. Then a voice spoke,
'Adventurers? What would you earn there? What would you achieve? ' Slowly, darkness enveloped Czrel. 'But you could bath in endless wealth and power and even enjoy women if you come with me, ' taunted the voice. 'Come with me Czrel. Join me, bask in the glory of The Vulture's Nest! '
Czrel's mind began to explode with images of gold falling from the sky. He was in a city where the streets were dark and dirty. But as the coins fell, the city streets began to fill and glitter with gold. Many men and women appeared and seemed to bathe in the coins. There was laughter and singing but Czrel knew that this was all but a fabricated scene. He fought to erase it from his mind.
He succeeded. As the glittery city faded he could hear children crying and women mourning. He saw countless child slaves and slave traders, abused women and brothel keepers, robbers and blackmailers. He witnessed men wielding violence for unscrupulous means, creating havoc and striking terror in the hearts of the innocent. He struggled to break away from the chaotic images when the Nadrak questioned him.
'Adventurers.. Why do you share your life with those poor fools? Look at that farmer, growing crops just to feed his clan! ' Then he laughed mercilessly. 'Why torment yourself when you can enjoy riches with us? ' Czrel merely grinned. He knew his purpose in Adventurers. He knew the Nadrak would never corrupt him. Although weakened, he summoned his strength and cried in reply,
'Yes, we suffer poverty. But my lord has backbone! We work together as one and he feeds us! We are righteous and we uphold honour... Unlike you rats! ' The Nadrak suddenly appeared in the darkness before him. He looked smug, as if he had already won.
'Righteous? Honour? Can you live on them? ' The sorcerer asked sarcastically. 'At least it makes my life meaningful! ' Czrel cried out in defiance
'And I swear that as long as I live I will uphold morality, justice and righteousness. For clan and for Belar! ' The Nadrak began to show impatience and displeasure on his face. Then he spat at Czrel in disgust.
'You fool, ' said the sorcerer. The young Drasnian, now with his blood boiling with hatred for the Nadrak and his organization, continued,
'For my clan, I shall dedicate my very life to hunt down each of the members of your Vulture's Nest! Justice will prevail you evil beast! '
As he finished his speech on the ways that he will live for the Adventurers, the pain he was suffering suddenly escalated. The Nadrak had slammed his head upon the ground. When he woke from his state of trance, he felt warm fluids flowing down his cheeks. His head was throbbing and he knew that it was blood that was oozing out from a cut on his temple. He was beginning to feel giddy. The Nadrak spoke but he could only observe the rapid movement of his thin lips. He could no longer hear his voice. His world was now spinning into darkness once again.
Suddenly, he felt the same warm fluid splattering all over his face. Together with the cold rain, they pinched at his senses. His vision was now somewhat clearer but the thin Nadrak was no longer in front of him. Instead it was a figure whose size was bigger and more muscular. Then he heard a muffled yet familiar voice.
'You alright Drasnian? ' It was the sailor. He had survived the throw. But his companion, the Rivan, had died. Exhausted, Czrel fell to the ground only to see the fallen Nadrak lying next to him. In a fateful twist of events the sailor had crushed his skull with a rock before he could further corrupt Czrel into joining the Vulture's Nest.
As the whole incident wrapped up, the mocking rain ended too. Through they back tracked through the forest and followed the path back to Sendar. But the Drasnian was too weak to walk. So the Cherek piggybacked him. The sailor staggered along but he still could keep his balance while carrying a wounded Czrel on his back. He was only bruised but he was deeply hurt, as he had lost his travel companion. The pair remained silent as the sailor trudged back to Sendar. But as the city's inviting gates were within sight, the Cherek questioned Czrel.
'You knew that Nadrak sorcerer? I woke when you declared that you would uphold justice by exterminating the Vulture's Nest. You from Adventurers? ' Czrel nodded weakly and whispered,
'For Adventurers and for Belar, yes I will. ' And as a brief memory of Nolcue past his mind, he added, 'And for my friends too. I shall do my best to purge this land of their foul existence. ' The sailor merely smiled at his ambition. Perhaps the young at heart think great of themselves. But deep in his soul, he prayed for the young Drasnian's victory. If he succeeds, it would be an achievement that the Adventurers and the world would rejoice.

top

Runaway Groom
It was a bright and early morning at Camaar. The shy sun had just peeked through the fluffy white clouds. The morning dew was forming atop the red roofs of the tall buildings. Czrel woke up with a wide smile on his face. He was safely back in Camaar and he knew for sure that the Nadrak girl would be his bride. Well almost.
Moments later, a messenger boy stopped at the house of the Adventurer's. He panted and tried to catch his breath. The merchant certainly would not like his invitations delivered late.
'Merchant! I'm here already! ' The boy's voice almost woke the entire street.
'I'm coming! '
Czrel appeared at the doorway and passed a stack of envelopes to the messenger. He grinned at the hard working boy and paid him some gold.
'On my way, Sir, ' the boy beamed at the extra tips he had gotten from the cheerful Drasnian. 'In double quick time! '
Heaving the sack of invitations over his shoulder, the Sendarian boy sped off towards the postal wagon parked along the main street. Czrel waved at him. The boy waved back and the wagon began to trot away, along with all the invitations to the merchant's up and coming wedding with the Nadrak girl Vealare.
But as he was about to return to his breakfast, he noticed that the boy had dropped an envelope on the street. Anxious that the invitation could not be delivered, he picked it up and dashed for the wagon, shouting at the top of his voice.
'Wait up! You missed one he - '
His yelling got cut off. Then he fell limp in the middle of the street and slumped against a wall. It was too early for anyone to witness the assailant blowing a dart at his neck and carrying him away. Everything had happened at lightning's speed and thus the unwary Drasnian was captured. Czrel suddenly felt a blizzard hit his face. He gasped and jumped, only finding himself waking up with freezing cold water doused all over him.
'Had a nice sleep Drasnian boy? ' Someone snickered. 'And I thought Morneson taught you well. '
Water dripped from his face to his clothing. Only then did Czrel realized that he was still in his night wear. They were soaked with a funny smell. Perhaps it was the room or the water causing the stinking odour. Fortunately. The pain pounding on his skull distracted him from it. His head was still spinning, but he could vaguely recognize the person behind that weird voice.
'Hmm... What's-his-name eh? I've met you before, ' Czrel tried hard to recall as he spoke to the hooded figure softly.
'Today, I'll let my friend deal with you, ' the man chuckled. The laugh was filled with ill intentions. 'He's more an expert in the field of drugs. '
Czrel remained oblivious. A look of innocence hung upon his worn and weary face.
'Sass! ' He turned to the door and shouted. 'Get in here! '
No sooner, another man stepped into the room. The new person appeared thinner and sicklier looking than the first. He was pale and his lips were of a light pinkish color. He grinned at the dazzled Drasnian and rubbed his palms together deviously.
'Try the new stuff on him, ' the first man ordered. 'Treat him, ahem, well.'
Smirking, he exiting the small, foul smelling room. Then the paler looking one slowly approached Czrel, eyes squinting to slits and mouth drooling uncontrollably. He certainly looked like another other druggie or addict one might find littering the streets of the city of poisons.
'Welcome to the house of Nyissa, my dearest friend, ' the sickly man slowly and perversely introduced himself, 'My name is Sasser… And today we shall have some fun.'
The twisted Nyissan withdrew to a huge shelf placed in back of the room. The wooden rack covered the entire length of the wall and contained almost all over of the poisons and dopes available in lands of the snake loving people. He reached to the top and retrieved a small purple vial from a small decaying drawer.
'From the new found jungles herbs, I bring you something nice, ' Sasser whispered as he returns to the chained Drasnian. 'Say hello to Wonderland.' As the pale man uncorked the vial, he gave Czrel a sly smile. Then he lightly squeezed the Drasnian's cheeks and tipped the vial's mouth over his, allowing the purple liquid within to ooze down his throat.
By the time Czrel had received his dosage of the vile and effervescent drug, the invitations had begin to reach the first of his guests to his wedding. They were glad to be invited and felt happy to see the young merchant finally able to find a good, pretty wife and settle down to start a family of his own.
Meanwhile, the bride was getting ready for her big day. Although she could hardly contain her excitement, she voluntarily abstained from meeting up with her husband-to-be. She knew that her short absence would make the Drasnian miss her and love her more.
But no one knew that Czrel was having the worse time of his life in the house of Nyissa. He was tested with many kinds of different dopes, and he got high so often that he lost count and became both physically and mentally weak. His mind collapsed into a state of fabricated euphoria and he spent most of the cold, dark Nyissan nights convulsing on the bare floor. He was close to losing himself to the constant poisoning.
'Ah... Worry not my Drasnian friend, ' Sasser assured Czrel, patting him coldly on the shoulder. 'I have an endless supply here. ' As he finished his sentence, he broke out into a horrible laughter, then slamming the door hard as he left the foul room.

Daylight seeped through the small louvers fixed near the ceiling of the oddly constructed room. The rays seemed to pierce directly into Czrel's bloodshot eyes. As he feebly raised his hand to shield himself from the blinding light, he noticed a dirty and used washtub built to the ceiling. He knew Nyissan architecture to be bizarre but even in his sunken state, he was clear that having a tub above one's head was absolute nonsense. But seeing that the chain that was binding him in place was latched conveniently to the tap, an idea slipped into his head.
A moment later, the bald and sickly Nyissan gently pushed opened the door to the dirty room.
'How are you feeling my friend?' Sasser hissed in a low voice. 'I had enough fun with you, this dose will end your misery.' He held out a tiny vial containing an ominous fluid.
Czrel knew better than to let Sasser feed him lethal poison. He focussed all his strength and tugged hard at his chains. His wrists hurt, but the pain could saved his life. As he pulled on the brown, rusty chains, the tension applied on the lose tap caused it to break off from the tub.
Suddenly, the pale looking Sasser fell motionlessly onto the floor. Crimson blood began to ooze from the wound on his head. The perverted Nyissan knew that the precarious tap would one day fall down on someone's head. But he had never guessed that the person would be himself.
The chains could no longer lock Czrel up. Only two words appeared in his mind antidote and escape. Feeling weak all over, he struggled to get up to his feet. His vision was a dizzying pattern of bright, jumbled colours and he kept drooling as he could not control his shivering lips.
Outside the room was the rest of the house. The walls were splattered with strange and fluorescent liquids. As he stumbled upon the walls, the strong scent of various berries slammed into his nostrils. There was crazy laughter and giggling from the druggies who have called this mad house their home. Czrel had to get out of there, away from the insane men and women and away from their drugs. He recalled that he was to be married soon but the poisons in him clouded his memory.

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Czrel
Darkness.

Silence.

Then slowly, soft buzzing sounds began to bug him. Gradually, the bustling of a crowd became audible.

He let open a small crack between his left eyelids, squinting at the noise around.

'Oh, shut up already,' he mumbled in his groggy state. Then suddenly, he jolted up as if he was shocked by lightning.

His eyes were treated with a sight of the market place. From his canvas covered stall, he could swear the cool shade could lure him back to slumber. But the sun was already hanging halfway in the blue sky and its rays pouring upon the little shack.

'Torak's prick, it's midday already,' he frowned as he thought to himself.

Reluctantly, he got up from a pile of soft Mallorean silk and took the luxury of time to stretch and yawn. His stomach growled hungrily. It was loud enough to attract the attention of the crowd moving to and fro in front of his stall. He gave them sheepish grin as they returned a rude glare.

'Belar, what's wrong with this bunch today?' He muttered quietly as he shook his head in disgust.

He turned around to take a look at the goods he was supposed to sell. Frankly, he had forgotten how he had gotten his goods. All he recalled was that he was very delighted. He went and got himself dead drunk after that.

He did not even remember how he landed up at this little canvas shack.

'Well, Mallorean silks, Nadrak furs, and what do we have here..' He squatted down beside a wooden crate, his curious fingers began to pry it open.

'That's him! It's this filthy Drasnian who robbed my warehouse yesterday!' A shrill voice came from behind him.

'Eh?' He tried questioned the stranger. But instead, all he saw were sharp pikes of the Drasnian guards pointing viciously at him.

'Don't move,' one of the sleek guards ordered him. 'You are under arrest.'

One day earlier..

Czrel was trying to concentrate, his keen ears yearning to hear the soft voices of the three mysterious hooded men at the opposite table. Unknowingly, he was leaning closer and closer until he realised that he was almost lying on the oak table itself.

The tavern patrons and the waitress eyed him strangely, thinking that he must be drunk. But Czrel was more sober than anyone else. He was trying to eavesdrop on the suspicious men.

Sensing something amiss, the hooded three got up from their table and left the water hole. The ever inquisitive Drasnian leapt from his seat to inspect the coins they left behind as payment for their drinks.

'Interesting,' he grinned while scratching his thin chin. 'Not like the Red Gold I suspected.'

Quickly, he dashed out of the tavern and hide behind a pillar to spy on the three. They were not far ahead but they took a sharp turn into a quiet alley along the main street. He had to find out what they were up to.

He peeped around the corner. There they were, the three cloaked men, huddling closely together, discussing softly about some dark secret. Czrel tried his best to listen to their conversation but it was useless. Unless..

'Perfect,' he thought to himself. He got on the roof right above the heads of the three. Quietly lying down, he leaned his ears a little closer into the dim alley.

'So we go as planned, we'll meet here at the seventh hour,' one of the men whispered to his accomplices. The rest nodded and as silently as they came, they left.

Czrel continued to stay put. He had no idea what these men were up to. But he was seeking some thrills. So he did not mind waiting till the "seventh" hour arrived when the three men will meet here again.

Soon, his patience ran dry. At his lying down position, he felt sleepy and gradually drifted to dreamland.

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Dawn of Merchants
Muros was practically doused in chaos every single day. Traders of all sorts went there to settle their various deals and businesses. One of such was a Drasnian trader, Czrel. He had a small tent by a track near the centre displaying his various daggers. Business was good and gold had been piling. The day went fine until he saw a familiar face.
It was Reidia. His fellow Drasnian greeted him with a welcoming hug and they chatted about the old times and Czrel's dealings in weapons with both Alorns and Angaraks. As they talked, Reidia's interest in the dealings grew, seeing how good business was in Muros.
After some discussion, Czrel came up with the idea of forming a clan of Merchants.
Shortly, the two Drasnians packed up and moved off towards Boktor in search of another partner. That person was Khuldir. Czrel had known him since they were young. Both of them had survived harsh childhoods together. Reidia remembered that Khuldir had contacts in Boktor and when the pair finally found him, he immediately agreed to join the clan. Khuldir's wife, Athawe, also agreed to join.
They knew trade routes ran not only within nations of the Alorns. All goods had far reaches and travelled to countries like Gar og Nadrak, Tolnedra, Nyissa and even Mallorea.
The resourcefulness of Czrel brought along with them experienced traders from the east and south of the great plains of Algaria. Maldrek, the top Nadrak fur and wood merchant, would see to the goods moving towards the Angaraks in the east. The Tolnedran agent, Raedus would take charge of commodity shipment towards the Nyissans and the southern countries. The remaining four Drasnians would take care of the rest of Alorn nations.
Crops from the fields of Sendarians, horses from the plains of Algars, armour from the armouries of Arends, fur and wood from the forests of Gar og Nadrak and wines of Tolnedrans were only a few examples of goods that could earn them riches.

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Gone
A zephyr gently caresses the tall long grass. On my back, the ground is soft and I have no intentions to open my eyes.
A voice wakes me up from my reverie.
Then it comes, it feels as if a Cherek had crashed his ship into my head and it explodes like the stars.
It is so intense it looks white to me. I take hold of myself and clamber to my feet. I realise that I am not wearing any clothes. My trusty knife that I have with me all the while is not with me this time.
The voice comes again and this time I can pinpoint the direction it comes from.
Behind. I tell myself. Behind me.
I fight the throbbing headache and turn to see this girl. Sendarian, or probably not. Maybe... Drasnian.
The sky is blazing orange and red while I stand, bearing my tools before a young innocent girl in the wilderness.
We never spoke, as far as I remember.
A long time passes and we remain there. I try to draw out her familiar features, but the light around me suddenly flickers and stumble into complete darkness.
I wake up on my office table. The candle has toppled over and off the edge. I probed about my side, my dagger is there, hanging safe and sound from my belt.
The room is dim.
And quiet.
Then I remember. She has already left us.
The young girl. The tough woman. The same, isn't it?

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Morning dose
Another morning ruined by the smell of bitter medicine.
Fereia was finally back home so she took over Khuldir's task of being my caretaker. I never realised it was already snowing until she told me how white the streets of Boktor were.
Another gulp. Trying hard to swallow this... This thing day in day out. Perhaps I could get used to it.
I peeked at my wife from the rim of the bowl. Fereia looked fresh as always. I could not bring myself to leave her one day. Even more so, I could not bring myself to be killed by something I could not touch nor see, that something brewing inside of me. I needed a permanent cure, not just cough suppressants.
A little bit left in the bowl. I pushed on.
I figured it could only be Nyissa where I contracted this illness. Perhaps it was something I ate. Perhaps it was something I drank. Or perhaps it was someone I knew, someone Who had already passed away.
I handed the bowl back to my loving wife. Alas, done with the medicine for the morning.

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Night dose
Lights of various colours danced in a deep dark space of nothingness.
Yellow, red, blue, green, pink, orange, white, white, white... Then the sound of someone familiar sobbing.
I woke. Instinctively, I recoiled at the thought of medicine doses. But the usual morning light that poured through the window was replaced by darkness. It was already past sun down. I propped myself to sit upright on my bed and waited for the sound of sobbing.
Minutes passed.
Then hours.
Nothing, I heard nothing at all. Maybe it was just part of my dreams. The seductive lights, slow and enticing, until the sobbing broke them apart. I had to get to the bottom of this. Like they said, curiosity killed the cat.
I peeled my blanket off and noticed that my legs were skinny like thin sticks of flesh and bone due to the lack of movement. It was a vast difference from the strong legs I used to have. The legs I trusted to dodge, to run and to save my life time and time again.

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Lost dose
Darkness filled the hallway.
The air was cold and quiet as Boktor was drowning in the night outside.
The floorboards felt like ice blocks as my feet walked upon them.
I fumbled blindly down the corridor.
A dim light glowed from the windows of my room.
The further I walked, the more I drifted away from the light.
Until I was in total darkness.
The floorboards had lost its meaning and existence.
And so did the surrounding walls.
The silence... It was deafening.

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