The Castle

OOC- Soon new characters will be popping up. Go read and reply at https://forum.literotica.com/showthread.php?s=&threadid=248904 to join. Yay!

Afton Creeley stepped into the backyard, barefoot, carrying a dish of cat food. She set it down, looking for Horace, her aunt's thirty pound tabby. She sat down on the ground, cross-legged, fanning herself, and lit a cigarette. It was incredibly hot.
Presently, Horace came waddling from under the shade of a bush to inspect his dish. Afton petted him idly as he ate.
The backyard was her favorite place to be. Ever since she was sixteen, Afton had been housesitting for her Aunt Diane every summer. This year she had gone to Egypt, and the house was hers for three whole months.
Putting out her cigarette, Afton stood up and stretched. Bending down, she scratched her knee through the hole in her jeans. She wore an expensive scarf she'd found in a closet as a halter top. Adjusting the scarf in the back, she walked idly down to the edge of the backyard.
Here there was a large goldfish pond where Afton liked to sit and read. She would sit there for hours, usually with a large glass of wine, and read while Horace stared longingly at the fish.
Horace settled himself by the pool, yawning, as Afton retrieved her book from under the bench.
As she bent down, she heard a strange sound from the woods that bordered her aunt's property. They were just a small strip of woods, separating her aunt's backyard from the Camden's house a little ways away. But the Camdens were old, and no one went into that area because of dangerous deadfalls.
She dropped her book and walked cautiously closer to the tree line, trying to peer into it. But even at 2 in the afternoon, the woods were pitch dark. Come to think of it, they were always dark. That was one of the reasons Afton had never been in them.
She stepped closer, and heard the sound again. As she did, she suddenly had the feeling that someone was watching her. The back of her neck prickled. Her hair stuck to her back where the sun beat down on it, and suddenly, in spite of the extreme heat, she shivered.
There it was again! It was the sound of a muffled footstep, the sound of someone trying desperately to be silent and almost succeeding. It was coming from the woods. Something was in the woods.
She felt a weird, almost hypnotic attraction to the woods. She had been frightened of them as a child, mostly because she was somehow drawn to them, as though she had left something behind.
Afton had never been like other children. There was something about her that didn't quite make sense. She had always felt like she was missing something, something that would explain the way she looked, why she wasn't like her mother and father. She had learned that she was adopted at 11. Afton had accepted that as the missing piece, and moved on.
What Afton had never learned is that her parents had found her, swaddled in a richly embroidered tapestry, on the edge of those very woods.
She came back to herself with a gasp, blinking her golden eyes. When she saw where she was she screamed, her hand flying to her mouth.
She was standing no less than ten feet away from the trees. How had she lost that much time? How had she walked that far without realizing it? Who was fucking with her?
Afton began backing up slowly, her head flicking back and forth as she tried to see everywhere at once. Horace was nowhere to be seen. The trees cast their chilly shadow over her, and that shadow seemed to beckon her.
She stepped on a branch, making it crack sharply. She whirled around, her pretty face distorted by a snarl, and lashed out. There was nothing behind her.
She turned around in a full circle. No one was there. Facing the house, she let out a small chuckle.
"Wow," she muttered to herself. "I'm fucking crazy."
Pulling her cigarettes from her pocket, she started walking back to the house. She made it three steps.
Suddenly, her arms were pinned at her sides. A hand clamped over her mouth. Her eyes opened wide and she tried to struggle, but she was completely helpless against the strength of her attacker. Frantically she twisted and turned, kicking and pistoning her legs, but he was immovable.

Vindil

"Don't be scared, I'm not going to hurt you." Vindil's voice was right next to her ear and tickled it. He felt her shiver.
"I'm really sorry about this, but someday you will understand Afton." The hand over her mouth was replaced in an instant but this one held a rag and in a few short moments she was fast asleep. Vindil picked her up in his corded arms and carried her into the dark woods. When she awoke she was in a dark room with stone walls, floor and roof. The door was heavy oak and bolted shut.
"So, she finally wakes. Are you sure about her Vindil?" The dark man next to him asked.
"Absolutly, Jakar. Now go tell my brother she is awake."
"Okay. I'll be back with her food soon."
"Great."
The slender female form rose from the soft bed and backed into the closest wall, her head spinning. "Where am I? Who are you? What do you want?"
Vindil laughed and ran his hand through his shaggy black hair.
"Answers will come in time, right now, you need to sleep, eat something and change out of those ridiculous clothes. I'll find you something more practical." Vindil's deep voice resenated from a chair in the corner next to a small lamp.
"So, tell me about yourself Afton."

Dawn rose. K stirred, and reluctantly opened his eyes. The little fire he and his brother had built the night before was cold ashes now. He stirred them aimlessly with one foot as he pulled on a shirt and a black coat. The forest clearing that contained the cabin was small, perhaps fifteen yards from one side to the other. The cold, bright winter sun made everything shine, and the air was chilly and refreshing; a pleasure to draw into the lungs.
Days like this it was good just to be alive. Or it should be.

K wished he was someone different, anyone, so he could just enjoy it all, without thoughts of the past ruining everything. The past, or for that matter the future.

He worked at the sword forms for an hour, moving through all of them, practising kneeling and standing, practising the draw. Practising the draw over and over again, crossing his hands across his shoulders and flipping his blades, longsword and shortsword, out. The draw was the defining moment of swordsmanship, the sudden flash of movement that heralded bloodshed. The closer he came to that moment of no-time between the intention and the draw, the closer he came to not existing himself, simply the impersonal guiding force behind the blades. Free from responsibilities. Free from guilt.

He was still kneeling there, pondering in solitude, when Jakar came.

"Vindil says she's awake"

K gave no reaction for a moment. His dark hair, smooth where his brother's was rough, spilled to his shoulders. Eyes so dark the pupil was almost indiscernable from the iris stared out into the forest. Finally he nodded and rose to his feet, placing both swords back in their scabbards across his shoulders.

He crossed the clearing soundlessly and entered the room, silhouetted momentarily in the doorway gazing in, eyes unreadable.

Afton

Afton opened her eyes. She was suddenly freezing. It was dark and damp, and her head spun and ached. She had a nasty taste in her mouth.
She heard muffled voices, men's voices, but was too woozy to distinguish the words. Her tongue felt like sandpaper. As her eyes adjusted to the light, she began to make out her surroundings. She was in a dark stone room, small, with two chairs, the pallet she was lying on, and a stove.
In the corner, next to a table, sat her captor. He was huge, at least six and a half feet tall, lithe and muscular, like a soldier of some sort. He was saying something to her, but she didn't understand. He had a very thick accent and her head hurt.
She stumbled back against the wall, trying to stand up. Immediately she sat back down, her head still spinning. It was so cold.
He was talking to her again. "Tell me about yourself," he was saying. Tell him about herself? Ha!
"You know my name and you knew where to find me. What else could you possibly want to know?" She tried to sound nonchalant, but she kept glancing at the oak door, trying to figure out how she was going to get the fuck out of here.
She had evidently run afoul of a bunch of yahoos who liked to play war in the woods. The guy was dressed in a goddamn costume of some sort, like some ancient warrior.
He just looked at her. Apparently sarcasm didn't translate.
Afton pulled her heels under her and worked her way into a crouch.
"What's your name?" she asked, smiling sweetly at him. She reached into her pocket for her keys. They were still there. Okay. In ten seconds she was going to put this guy's eyes out, come what may.
He opened his mouth to reply, and Afton launched herself at him, using all the power of her legs. She had played soccer for years, and her aim was true. She landed on his chest, swiping and clawing with her keys, trying to kill him.
He never got a scratch on him. He grabbed her wrists in one hand, holding her completely helpless. She looked down into his face, her knees straddling his.
He was smiling.
The door opened, and Afton, still held fast, turned to look. The man standing there was even more powerful looking than her captor. He stared directly at her, his dark eyes boring into her.
She looked from the man holding her wrists to the man, obviously his brother, standing in the doorway. Their faces were identically unreadable.
Afton sighed. Her chances for escape were suddenly looking a lot worse.

Vindil

When Afton had launched herself at him and tried to scratch his eyes with a deft lunge he was slightly surprised. Now, his brother had shown up and she remained on top on him.
"I understand your urge to escape. I also understand that you will not believe me when I tell you that right now you are safest with us. Now if you want to escape, fine, I'll give you a chance, but believe me, you cannot escape, and you don't want to." Vindil's eyes never left hers as he said this and she looked back at him doubtfully and with a little bit of fear. Vindil picked her up off of him and set her back on her feet.
"K, give me your sword." K pulled out the short sword and tossed it to him which he caught and then handed it to Afton.
"So Afton, you want to escape, kill me." Vindil spread his arms wide and waited. Afton looked down at the sword then at Vindil's open chest, which was well within arms reach.
"Well, kill me or just try to cooperate and this will go much smoother."

Afton, holding the sword in her hand, looked appraisingly at the man standing in front of her, arms spread. He was still smiling at her, apparently amused by her indecision. She looked at the other brother.
He didn't seem amused at all. In fact, he was looking at her with a sort of calculation, waiting to see what she would do.
She let her sword hand drop to her side. There was something going on here above and beyond some sick game. She could feel it pressing in on her, making her feel strange and alien.
Turning away from the men, she heard the younger brother snicker. As he did so, she spun around, lashing out with the sword.
It sliced open his shirt and left a shallow wound across his chest. He hadn't even seen it coming. With a sneer, Afton leveled the sword at his stomach. She turned to the other brother, who was now looking at her with an appraising eye.
"Don't fuck with me. You better explain to me what's going on right now."
Looking at these men, Afton was aware of a nagging familiarity associated with them. They looked like her. Their noses, their builds, even the younger brother's golden eyes were all known to her. She didn't know why. She didn't know these men. But....possibly she knew someone like them. Vaguely she could remember a man, much like these men, with black hair and golden eyes and a scar across his nose. Was that her father?
She scanned their faces for some sign, something that would help her unlock the knowledge she so obviously had.
Slowly, as she stood there staring at them, memories began to come.
"Sa - Saorsians?" she said haltingly. "Are you Saorsians?"
They didn't look her in the eye.
"Why have you come for me?" she said. Things were flooding back to her. The Saorsians were the warriors of --- where? And they were sworn to protect -- whom? And she was -- what?
But if they were here, or, rather, if she was there -----
"My father," she said. "What's happened to my father?"

K's eyes didn't move from Afton's face, even after she cut Vindil. He made no move to draw his long-sword. A moment afterwards, his eyes flashed almost imperceptibly to his brother's wound, making sure it wasn't serious.

Something changed in Afton's eyes as she spoke, as though she were recalling something infinitely distant.

"Sa - Saorsians?" she asked slowly. "Are you Saorsians?"

K looked away at last, and he sensed Vindil doing likewise. Being reminded of the oaths they'd broken long ago were one of the few things that could discomfit the brothers', breaking through Vindil's sardonic humour and K's melancholy, emotionless calm.

"What's happened to my father?", Afton asked at last.

"The Castle", answered K flatly.

Vindil

When he heard his brother reply with "The Castle" he felt disgust. He had been fighting them for as long as he could remember.
"As I said before, though you may not have heard me, answers will come soon enough. For now I have to teach you something very important. I know you hate us, I know you probably want to get away from here and go home and thus forget that this has ever happened. But let me explain something to you Afton. You are not ready to live in this world. You see me as an enemy, and if you cannot take an enemy life then you will die here. As long as K, Jakar or myself draw breath no harm will come to you, but if you leave you will most likely not live out the first night. Understand?"
Vindil looked down at the blade in her hand that was leveled with his stomach, ready to open up his stomach and spill out his intestine. Vindil smiled again as his palm came across so fast that Afton didn't even register the movement. The blade of the sword was knocked aside and before she knew what had happened Vindil was behind her with the press of cold steel against her neck. The short sword she held was locked in her hand by the iron grip Vindil had on it.
"I liked this shirt. If you learn anything while you are here, learn who your allies are, and when to fight." Vindil was then around next to her pulling the sword from her hand and tossing it back to K.
Afton looked shocked and backed away a few steps. She felt her neck and realized how close she was to death in that instant.
Then Vindil was speaking again.
"To answer one of your many question's, you are our hope." Vindil nodded to K and exited out of the single oak door.

Afton couldn't think straight. Memories were rushing back to her. A citadel, a fortress, looming above a dark city. A man, her father, bending over her, holding her hand, teaching her to fight. It was all coming back to her.
Afton, at 23, had not realized that she had absolutely no memories of her life before the age of 5. Suddenly, a whole life was returning, memories that had been usurped by her childhood with Jeff and Sharon Creeley.
She had known for years that the Creeleys were not her real parents, and it had never bothered her. They had raised her for her entire life. They were the only parents she had ever known.
Except that wasn't true. She had known her real parents, had lived with them for five years, and now she was going back.
She remembered the woods, remembered running through them, holding a woman's hand. Her mother? Afton could remember her hair, her white dress, her kind voice, but she couldn't see her face.
Afton picked up the sword, still looking at the older brother. She was inexplicably drawn to him, his familiarity. He was a Saorsian. Her father had been a Saorsian. She would have been one too.
Her eyes dropped to his right wrist, looking for the warrior brand on the inside of his arm. He wore none. Where it should have been was a lighter patch of skin, as though it had been removed with a blade.
The younger man was still standing outside, pacing in front of the door.Her eyes flashed to his wrist. Where his brand should have been was a small raised area of scar tissue, a burn.
They wore no brands. They were outlaws.
"I don't know what the Castle is," she said. "But I know what I am, and I know what you are. Whatever is going on, I am sure that my father would not have sent two oath-breakers to retrieve me."
This time they both met her eyes. She saw in them not fear, but apprehension. This she couldn't understand. The two of them could easily take her by force.
Or maybe they couldn't.
Afton looked from brother to brother, her mind still aflame with memories. Reaching deep down into her mind, she came up with the words she had been looking for her entire life.
"I am Afton Erinten, daughter of Aneas," she said in their language. "My father is dead, or you would not be here."
The looks on their faces confirmed this.
"Tell me what's going on," she said. "But first tell me your names."

Vindil

Vindil was amazed to say the very least. Memories were coming back to Afton at a very quick pace and she was already recalling some of the details of the time she had spent with the Saorsion's.
"I am Vindil, this is my older brother K, and outside is Jakar, he was around earlier." Vindil said sheathing his dagger into his boot and turned back to her.
"It would take hours to explain exactly what is happening so I will give you a quick summary. The military force known as 'The Castle' has been occupying our lands for...ahhh.... around 10 years now. We, meaning a small group of rebels have done our best to be a thorne in their side, but we cannot hope to defeat them, we are to few, we are far to few. Although, your father had seen this coming and had prepared. Back in the days when we were putting up an organized resistance, your father saw the imminant defeat so he turned to his body guards... our father and Jakar's father. I was in training and K was an apprentice. We had vowed to protect your father...to protect him with our lives, if it came to that." Vindil had traveled over back to the side of the room grabbed one of the chairs and brought it near to the bed, then as he took a break from speaking he sat and motioned Afton to do the same. "So your father asked his body guards to do a few things for him. The first was to organize the group known as the 'Flaming Fist' that is us. Outlaws, theives and the remnants of our army, were all members of this group. Our mission was that once our armies were defeated, to make 'The Castle' pay heavily for their occupation. Our job is simply to kill as many of those batards as possible. Now, through nearly ten years of resistance our numbers are down from what was once nearly 5000 to now just a little bit over two hundered. We are losing the fight, but as of a few weeks ago we recieved word that all hope was not yet lost. Apparently your father had laid out another plan, involving a single person who could change our fortunes in this war. That person, as far as anyone can tell is..."
"Me?" Afton asked. Vindil simply nodded.

"Me?" Afton snorted. She looked at K. He looked back at her noncommitally.
"I'm the one who's supposed to be able to stop the people who slaughtered the Saorsians? I'm your only hope? Wow."
She slid down and sat on the floor. They were looking at her again. Apparently even light sarcasm didn't translate. She was always on stage with these two.
"What am I supposed to do?" she asked.
Vindil coughed. K suddenly became very interested in a loose boot-lace.
They had no idea.
Someone had very kindly retrieved her cigarettes from her aunt's backyard and placed them on the table. Rising, she brushed past K and picked them up. They'd been accidentally stomped on, but they were still whole.
Sitting back down, she lit a cigarette.
"Can you at least find me some clothes to put on?" she asked. "It's freezing."

K's face was expressionless as he listened to his brother tell Afton the story, their story, really, and the story of the Castle. Not all of it was true. And even Vindil didn't know some of the parts that were false, or that he was leaving out. It was better that way. K never wanted his brother to know the truth of some of the things he'd done that night, the vows he'd broken, ten years ago, when everything fell apart.

"I'm the one who's supposed to be able to stop the people who slaughtered the Saorsians? I'm your only hope? Wow."

Her tone was flippant, with undercurrents of serious worry and doubt. It wasn't ever easy, suddenly being shouldered with responsibilities you weren't prepared for.

When she asked what she was supposed to do, K bowed his head. It struck him, suddenly, as laughable; she was the terrible weapon that would end this war, the capping piece in that master manipulator, her father's, strategy. Here she was: and she was just a very confused, very young woman.

He watched as she placed a tube of yellow-brown paper between her lips and lit it, inhaling the smoke like a pipe.

"Can you at least find me some clothes to put on?" she asked. "It's freezing."

K nodded, and shrugged off his black coat. It was worn, with ten years' worth of guerilla warfare on its shoulders, but still comfortable. He placed it around her shoulders, unsmiling, and stepped back, cocking his head to examine her critically. She looked more the part now, in a Saorsian warrior's sombre coat. You could almost believe she was their saviour.

Afton felt ridiculous. K's coat was warm, but....
"I thought it'd be more like the Matrix," she said, fingering the soft leather.
As usual, blank looks.
It was so cold. It had been high summer in her aunt's backyard, and here it was freezing. Afton ground her cigarette out on the floor and stood up.
"Shall we?" she asked, gesturing toward the door. It was obvious they weren't in Kansas anymore, to coin a phrase, and all she wanted to do was get to somewhere that had a fire, some food and drink, and some clean, warm clothes. Preferably clothes that bore no resemblance to this hideous coat. Also a window. Being cooped up in that dank room was fucking with her sinuses.
She had no idea how far they were from their destination, and didn't care. She pushed past K and opened the door. He made no move to stop her.
"Are we going?" she asked him impatiently, pulling the collar of his coat tight around her.
Apparently not.
The wind was biting. She closed the door again and turned to address the men.
"We're not staying here, are we?"
They were.
"Fuck," Afton said, and flopped onto the hard pallet.

Meet Creeps

SWISH! I landed on a cobble stone roof, trying my best to be ever so silent. The city was a indeed quite a place, bustling with merchants and peasents by day, and a thieves playground at night. But now... it's become a warzone down there. The dead just keep pileing up, and the city's enemies just keep coming. This is why I've been keeping to the rooftops most of my time. This war, in my eyes, is none of my business. I try my best to stay out of it, here, on the rooftops where it's safe... but soon, not all the shadows and rooftops of this city put together can keep me safe....

The screams and crys of battle here are too deafening... I take my leave, moving on.

Vindil

Vindil was impressed with how well Afton was handling the news that she was supposed to stop a slaughter of a race of great warriors. K had givin her his cloak, but he could tell that Afton was still cold.
"I'll be back soon, I'll go find you some cloths. K, maybe you should start up the fire in here. She's freezing. Also do you want the first or second shift?"
K didn't say anything, still he didn't say a word.
"I'll take the first shift of the night. Jackar will take the third. Tommorow we have to be out of here, and off to the city."
Vindil looked at the younge woman laying on the hard slab that she had took up as her bed. He grabbed onto a roof support and swung his body upwards. He soon stood on top of the support and opened a hidden door in the roof. He pulled down a heavy blanket then a package. He closed the door, dropped gracefully to the floor and tossed the blanket to Afton. He didn't see her disgusted expression, but thought that she would appreciate it none the less.
"It smells a little, but its warm." Vindil told her of the blanket. Then he opened the package and pulled out a leather vest. He threw that on followed quickly by a harness of chainmail that was died black to avoid glare while hiding. Then came a sword belt holding a slender rapier and a dirk. That went around his waist then Vindil pulled out a bracer that held six finely crafted throwing daggers, which he strapped around his forearm. Then he pulled out a black sircoat that covered the chailmail to muffle the noise.
"I'm going to go and visit Le, she is about the same size as Afton. K, don't let her get killed while I'm gone." With that Vindil slipped out of the door into the cold night.
*******
About hald an hour later Vindil was within sight of Le's cave dwelling. He would find equipment, supplies, clothing and most importantly information. When he arrived at Le's door sshe poked her head out of the door.
"Vindil good to see you alive and well. Come inside its cold."
"Its good to see you too Le-Le."
"How many times do I have to tell you not to call me that?"
"I don't know, but if you really want me to stop I will, you know that."
"Oh just come inside." Vindil did. "So, were you succesful?"
Vindil then told her of the events of the previous hours.

Afton lay under the scratchy blanket, shivering against the hard pallet. K sat in the chair, completely silent.
Vindil had been gone about ten minutes, presumably to fetch her some clothes. Preferably some that didn't smell like horses.
K had arranged a small fire in the grate, and rising from the slab, Afton gathered the blanket around her and padded close to the fire. She sat down on the floor by K's feet.
"Thanks for building the fire," she said to him. He inclined his head slightly. Nothing else.
"Are you cold? You can have your coat back. The blanket's pretty warm." No answer.
Afton was trying very hard to keep an open mind about K and Vindil, but K was officially getting on her nerves. She wasn't used to being ignored, especially not so blatantly.
She slipped off his coat and threw it across his knees. "Here's your ugly coat," she said cheerily.
Not looking at him, she crossed to the table and grabbed her smokes. There were only about 8 left. She sighed and sat back down by the fire, pulling the blanket loosely around her shoulders.
She could feel K staring at her. They seemed to stare at her all the time, like they were waiting for her to change into a dragon or something. It was unnerving. Although there seemed to be something more intense in K's eyes. He looked like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.
She stole a glance at him. He was still looking at her.
"What?" she asked.

Selia:

So this is the onehundredandtwelfth day of my journey since I left the Ni Aelwyn Tree, the most noticeable day, as I met someone who meant the beginning of something that will be told by the bards for generations to come. Now hear the story of the fight against all odds as I´ve seen it:

All those leaves on the ground - a noisy path beneath the trees. Step - step - shuffle. Wait. Then I move again, quicker this time.
There are people close to me, humans for sure. Interesting kind of beings those humans are, somewhat like Fey but they are always so - hmm - so sober. May be they are dangerous, so they will know that I´m there only if I want to.
Step - shuffle - step.
Now I can see. Argh. How can they live in buildings made out of cold stone and dead wood?? They are strange. And interesting. Really interesting!
Shuffle - shuffle - step - step.

All the while there has been nothing really mentionable around the cabin in the clearing. The sounds of nature are the only companion to someone standing guard. The leaves on the ground will betray everyone even trying to get close long before he will be able to see.
There haven´t been those betraying sounds of footsteps. Only this familiar sound of a bird hopping around and searching amongst the fallen leaves for edibles. Step - step - step.... A Squirrel for sure.

Suddenly there she was, standing just out of arms reach in the light of the fire! Noone had seen her coming, noone had even heared her steps!
A Fey, a true Elf, a female (and a stunningly pretty one indeed) stood there, smiling as she´d just heared a good joke. She´s holding out her hands to show that she doesn´t hold any weapons and isn´t a thread. Not yet. She has weapons. A bow, strung, worn with a quiver on her back. One of those legendary deadly tools those creatures use. May be she has a blade too - who knows. Those pointed ears and this distinctively shaped eyes, the slender face, those mastercrafted leather she calls clothing - everyone else would have been frozen to death wearing just a loincloth and such tiny top outsides this time of the year. Yes, she is a Fey for sure, but what does she want?

"Greetings manlings. I seek knowledge, I offer help"

For sure she hasn´t spoken those words very often, but not even a nightingale could sing them with a softer melody. No, she doesn´t mean any harm.

It seemed like K was going to say something to her, when they were interrupted by a strange figure opening the door. It was an elf, or at least what Afton believed was an elf. A girl, pretty, young, wearing next to nothing.
"Greetings, manlings. I seek knowledge, I offer help."
Afton rolled her eyes.
"It would help if you'd knock before interrupting people's conversations."

In some ways, the interruption was a relief. K's habitual silence was a comfort to him, armour against the world. And he didn't want to explain to Afton why he was staring at her, seeing all the tenuous hopes he'd warily held on to over the past decade vanish like smoke. He'd seen the world she came from, travelled it briefly with Vindil while searching for her; all iron and concrete fortresses, howling, armoured vehicles and blazing lights; flurried images of catastrophic violence everywhere. He'd thought it a world permanently at war with itself, a place where a terrible champion could recieve the training she would need to stop the Castle, the baptism of fire even K had never gone through.

But then he'd looked closer, and seen that the people walking the streets were plump and careless, walking without the grace of hunters like himself and his brother. For all their love and glorification of violence, for all their elaborate, deadly toys, these people were no warriors.

And Afton, helpless, hapless and slender, had been raised by them.

K leapt up as the door opened, both hands instinctively reaching for the sword-hilts on his back. His stance held all the suppressed motion of a coiled spring, winded back to incredible levels of tension. It didn't relax even when he noted the intruder was a girl of the Fey. He'd seen elves working for the Castle before now.

Afton snapped at her for interrupting, even as K strode forward, glaring at the elf.

"Who are you?"

Selia:

"Name´s Selia, youngest branch of Ni Aelwyn Tree."

The elven Maid tilted her head, still smiling, even at the threatening stance K was facing her with. Was she amused?

"Knock? Don´t know meaning, home doesn´t have doors - please excuse."

She seems excited to see two humans, her eyes darting around, she even sniffles.

"Want to learn, offer help."

She repeats this sentence two or three times, changing the melody she almost sings them with each time, all the while her position keeps relaxed and friendly.
There are storys about the fey from the deepest woods, strange storys noone believes to be true as noone can say he´s ever met one. But this time there is such an elf standing right in front of you and she seems to have no conceptat all that she´s in real danger. She believes to be a guest in anotherones home, so she believes herself to be safe from harm as long as she isn´t sent away. Selia bows, chirps a small sentence

"Too friendly you are"

and then sits down on the bare floor, looking at you, still smiling her enervating lovely smile.

"I will learn, I will help."

Talking to her will get a few disturbing results. Soon everyone knows stat the few words she´d spoken so far are the only words she knows in this langauge and she repeats them on almost every question - if she doesn´t try to offer to share some strange nuts (delicious if someone accepts) or even tobacco and a strange tiny pipe she uses for smoking it. It´s a sheer marvel to see her handle the flint, looks as easy as a modern lighter, but for sure it is not. It might take some time untill everyone get´s used to her presence, at least the somewhat itchy warriors might get nervous when she takes her quiver and bow, unstrings the bow and places it next to her (it´s really not that comfortable to sit around with your few posessions strapped to your back).

((OOC: She will not disturb any further conversation, so feel free to get the words spoken to set the course of the adventure. Sooner or later noone wants to miss her around as she´s always friendly and has a helping hand for everyone. I´ll take my time untill you finished your buiseness to decide she´s learned enough of the foreign langauge to start playing her role a bit more active.))

Creeps is finally caught

What's this? Robbers taking gold from the local church. My heart felt heavy with sadness and anger, knowing that the cities own people were doing these unspeakable crimes, and evil. These amateurs were dishonoring the thieves code of honor... my code of honor. Taking advantage of a church that was already as poor as they get, was unforgivable. However... I made it my job not to interfere, but this, THIS, was too out of hand.

The robbers broke into the church, went in, got out... with a large sack.

They stole nothing but sand... thanks to my efforts. I had replaced the valuables they tried to take with crap and dirt while their guard was down... people like these always had their guard down.

I emptied the real sack, and put the valuables back on it's alter. Just then, the church doors swung open, and city guards came rushing in. In the corner of the church, I could hear a monk yelling, "there he is guards! That's the man who tried to rob us!"... crap... the great Creeps, master thief and jack-of-all-trades... finally caught by an old fart of a monk. I raised my arms in defeat, took a blow to the back of the head, then passed out....

"Uh, K?" Afton said. "I think you can put the swords away."
She looked at the Fey girl, who was looking back at her with a mingled expression of curiousity and delight. Apparently she hadn't been around humans that often. Afton could relate. She'd never been around an elf before.
"I'm Afton," she said, pointing at herself. "The man with the swords is K. It's nice to meet you."
The elf just sat there, smiling.
Afton sighed. First K, now this one. At this rate, the only person she was going to be able to carry on a conversation with was Vindil. Well, maybe Selia could be a scout or something. They were going to need all the help they could get.
She looked at K. Looked at his swords.
"So," she said. "You gonna teach me how to use those things or what?"

A deal for Creeps

I woke up, tied to a wooden chair. My head was still spinning, but I could make out three guards. Two of them was guarding the exit... my exit. This other one, the big one, staring me down. On the table in front of me was my equipment, and weapons... well, since I could make out my own equipment and weapons, I guess it was safe to say my head had finally stopped spinning.

The guard smiled at me menacingly, "aye, it looks like this little rat has waken from his slumber", he proclaimed. The man was huge, with an even bigger Scottish accent. He laughed like a drunk giant, the other guards laughed with him. "Well... I'm glad I could be of some amusement" I retorted back, just to have a big fist land into my gut right after! Me and my chair were sent flying backwards, but I landed still sitting straight up. I hacked up a sickening cough, and my stomach... was definitly bruised. The Scottish man laughed, then looked in my eyes then said, "So, tell me laddie... who were the other two accomplices you had trying to rob the church with ya?! The ones who got away lad! Tell me who they are, and I promise I'll go a wee bit softer on you". I looked back at him with a sarcastic look in my eyes, "First of all, my red-bearded bruiser friend, I work alone. If I wanted to rob a church, I'd go to the temple city of Fenthorne to do it. Not some dusty old crap church, whose most valuable objects is a copper cross, and a donation plate. Second of all, I must warn you, if you hit me again... I will be forced to break something". The Scotts-man looked peeved, then with a loud grunt and a heavy fist, he sent yet another haymaker towards me.

The Scotts-man was knocked-out, then the other guards quickly took action. "HALT!" Suddenly, out of nowhere, a monk bursted through the door... the same monk who got me arrested. His eyes were cold, and his grey beard showed great wisdom, "leave us! I wish to speak to this man", he said. "But father, he-", "I said leave us!" the monk said, stopping the guard mid-sentence. The guards obeyed then dragged the, 'sleeping giant' away.

The monk stepped closer to me, then sat down on a wooden chair next to the table with my stuff still sprawled out all over it. He looked at me with a glimmer in his eye, then said, "I wish to propose a deal".... this was getting interesting.

Vindil

OOC: I'm gonna be gone for abut two weeks on Vacation. Just pull me along with you and I'll catch up when I get back. Thanks

K gradually relaxed as he observed the elf, now happily engaged in striking a light and lighting up a tiny tobacco pipe. The Fey were always strange, unpredictable creatures; one of them had once joined a band of rebels he and Vindil had been with, with no explanation, and stayed around for the better part of a month, observing all the rebels' activities with great interest, making no attempt to help them, until the night Castle enforcers attacked, and he threw himself on to a blade to save Vindil's life. Since that night, K had always afforded the elves a wary, grudging respect.

He looked at Afton, considering her question, then finally unsheathed the short-sword and tossed it to her. Acting on a guess, he suddenly called: "Form stance".

The basic sword stance, relaxed yet poised, with the blade held either in one hand diagonally across the chest, or in both hands with the blade over one's head, was the first thing a novice was taught. Anyone who'd had any training in the sword would instinctively know to form one of those positions. He watched for Afton's reaction intently.