The village was of the small, quait variety; they were in transition in their use of building materials. Some of the buildings still had straw roofs, while some of them had tile. Some of the roads were still dirt and mud with planks of wood over the worst areas, and the other roads were paved with rocks and sometimes even with brick. The richer homes areas were deep and beatiful shrubbery and flowerse, many of the plants in full bloom, making for a colorful sight during a stroll through town.
The house that was furnished for Loraiel and Rynn was not exactly well furbished, but neither was it a hole in the wall; a gardener worked on the fora outside for nearly hours a day to keep everything in order. The roses were plentiful this year; in fact, they had shorted the growth of every other flower in front of the home. There was no need for cocern of variety, though, as they came in all colors, but one size: big. There were violent reds, mellow yellows, soft pinks, innocent whites; there were even some dark blacks near the strong purples. Their aroma floated in and through the house as well as the area around it. One awoke to the scent of bountiful roses, and one went to bed in their perfume.
Rynn first awoke to movement within the house. Being ever cautious, she reached silently for her claws beneath her pillow, keeping her senses bared for any other incriminating sings. She thought she heard the squish of a wet boot, maybe covered with mud. She heard the movement of clothing, but something was wrong: their intruder didn't care to minimize the noise he was making, something ever strange to the pretentious Rynn. She slid out of bed and set the sheets so that it seemed there was someone still sleeping soundly beneath them. She paused for a moment as she neared the door, a musky smell entering her nostrils that no one, not even with the worst sense of smell, would be able to miss.
She neared the door as she became even more cautious. If this person didn't care in what state it found his prey, would he be some sort of all-powerful assassin? Oddly enough, she thought she heard movement in the kitchen, as if someone one searching through the drawers for a rare artifact it had placed there days before to hide it, only to return later - as it had now - to claim its just earning and quickly take flight. But in the middle of the day? Rynn's theory of an wizardly assassin increased ever more.
She crawled into the hallway, the sounds in the kitchen growing. Whatever it was, it was going through many of the drawers, one after the other, occasionaly giving an "Ah ha!" signalling that it had found something it had been looking for. Rynn kept low to the ground as she deftly rolled through a doorway and onto the other side of the counter, drawing a pause from whatever was on the other side. The musky smell was almost too much to bear. The boots were a little muddied; she could see them through a small hold in the side of the piece of furniture that seperated her from it.
The thing went back to whatever it was doing, pulling out something from the cupboard and placing it onto the fire. So it was now preparing a spell! Rynn tensed up at the thoughts of any kind of magic being thrown about the house in such a small, quiet community. She had to make her move now as the ingredients began to be added into the pan; she could hear them simmering. She got up into a crouch from her prone position, making up a plan as she had nothing yet to show for her covert efforts.
If she failed, she'd have to warn Loraiel somehow.
"One..." Her legs and thighs tensed even more as she prepared to jump over the table top and strike the being down in one blow.
"Two..." Her claws were almost twitching in anticipation of a swift strike, and hopefully a quick kill.
"Thre-!" She didn't finish as the door to their bedroom flew open and their stood Loraiel, yawning in her white nightgown. Rynn gasped. "No!"
The priestess was surprised to at the scene before her. There crouched her friend Rynn, weapons ready on her arms, and behind her and the counter stood a tall figure in front of the fire, ladle in hand. Rynn quickly jumped in front of her friend in an attempt to block whatever spell might be thrown at them. "I won't let you be harmed!" she cried, her heart pounding.
"Rynn... Harmed by what?" Loraiel had a smirk on her face, already fully understanding what had transpired. "Amendir has prepared us breakfast. If he was about to throw the ladle that he holds in his hand at me, then by all means, plans bat it away. Otherwise, I am starving." She could barely contain her laughter as Rynn turned around to see a startled man, standing their as in a daze. Her face turned red with embarrasment as she turned away from the man and back to face her friend.
She put her katars on her belt in their place and said only one word, if it can be called that: "Oh."
~~~~~~~~~~
After breakfast - and after the trio had had their laughs - the captain of the gaurd invited them for a tour around his village. "This place isn't very big," he explianed, "but we have everything and anything we would ever have a need of." They passed a marketplace, busy with wives and their maids purchasing their provisions for lunch and dinner. There were all sorts of leafy greens, plump circles, and all clustered together were the meats and the fish. There were herbs, rare and common, to be found all about. Next to those were the fruits; ripened to perfection, from their firm flesh and their virbrant colors - red, yellow, orange, green - were on all the stands, with each vendor trying to sell his products.
The meats were on display that day, hung up as they were. They showcased each and every part, hoping for a buyer. There were cuts thick and big; there were some merely thick, but small. There were lean cuts, fat cuts: there were cuts of all sorts. There were slim cuts for meat, right beside the thick ones for roasting; it was a sight to see. The fish were equally as impressive - as was their stench. That was the one most provoking scent throughout the entire market, the stench of the fish. There were both small and large fish; one of the man said the one on display was nearly half a person heavy. "How big of a person, I wonder," whispered Rynn to Loraiel. It was indeed something to question, as the fish was no bigger than the man's arm. The next vendor over had a fish as big as himself - someone not even half of Rynn's height, who was not even considered tall. "Must be a gnome," Loraiel whispered back. "If he hears us -" "I can hear ye'!" replied the gnome. The pair walked behind Amendir, giggling, half-heartedly listening to what he was saying.
After the market place, when the people had left and the vendors had closed their shops, they visisted a nearby temple, dedicated to no one god in particular. The dark consumed the light, and the light consumed the dark, but it was all in equal balance; the fire was quelled by the water, but at the same time, the fire was burning still bright. And still the clouds were above the ground, and yet the ground was still there. It was devoted to everyone, yet at the same time, it was devoted to no one at all, save the gods themselves. "This temple has was built many, many, many moons ago," Amendir explained, "when the founders of this place were still alive." It was a strange sight to both Rynn and Loraiel; most of the temples they had come across in all of their travels combined had been devoted to some god or another, and never all at the same time.
They walked on towards the square, the center of the town's business. Here were the shoe shops, beside the clothing shops, beside the bars and beside the taverns. The shopkeepers met their customers outside with an attractive lure as they pulled the customer into their store. Later, whether it be a long time or in no time, the person usually walked out with a purchase made from their store. These people were experts in their craft. "We are a busy town with many people passing through each day; many of them decide to stay, but many more just decide to pass through. We have had people come back here to live out the rest of their lives in quiet peace, though." Wagons and horses travelled through the streets, over the rock and stone laid out as their road, from one end of the town to the other.
There were smiths of all sorts - for wood, stone, metal - and they were all proficient in their crafts. Many of them had young apprentices from local families, the parents hoping that their son or daughter would take after their mentor and become successful in that profession. There were blades made of fine steel, some curved, some straight; others were looked to big as to be impossible to be wielded sufficiently with even two hands, and others just big enough for one. There were also axes, spears, lances; any type of weapon could be found within these stores. "A flamed fletcher had opened shop here not too long ago," said Amendir, "and ever since there have been people flocking to buy his magical bows and arrows, famed for their ease of use and their accuracy, along with any of the other magical properties he has bound them with." The armorers were in full business, having nothing to show for their work as it would be sold nearly the moment after it was put up for sale. Many people had items ordered for themselves or as gifts and would wait weeks - and sometimes, even months - to obtain their purchase. There were suits of armor, fit for a paladin, breastplates for the everyday archer, shields for a knight, and even more bracers and gauntlets and helmets and boots to mix and match all day. There were some special vendors who sold armors that had been imbued by magic; some of these allowed the wearer to catch arrows in midflight, and even some of the shields had the power to turn arrows away from its bearer.
They returned for a lunch far past its due; both Rynn and Loraiel were hungry once more, even though they had breakfast. It was past mid-afternoon, although twilight was not near to set. Amendir went once again into the kitchen, once they had returned to the house, to prepare a late lunch. "It will be light," he apologized, "as there will be a feast tonight." He disappeared into the kitchen and left the pair alone to talk about their day - and to rest their tired feet.
"Do you smell something, Rynn? It smells like..." Loraiel looked into the air around her, hoping it would give her some clue as to what she was hoping to not find.
"A rotting corpse?" Rynn looked a little worried; she thought she had smelled it too, earlier in the morning. "If so, yeah, I think I did smell one earlier before breakfast."
"So I am not the only one?" the now grey-clad woman replied. "That is comforting... I thought for that even a fleeting moment did my senses deceive me. Let us then be on our gaurd, for the consequences will be dire if we are right. For the first time in my life, I hope I am wrong."
~~~~~~~~~~
The two arrived at that night's feast in their usual clothing: Rynn was dressed in her black mercenary guard, a little too revealing to fitfully enter a temple, and Loraiel donned her signature grey cloak, more than ready at any time to ever enter a temple, or any place of worship. Rynn had her katars on her belt, just in case anything were to transpire. Loraiel had her hands and feet ready for anything, as always. The semi-formal dinner was being held outside in the center of town. Tables were set up around the fountain, the square's main showpiece, with even more tables in a circle around them. The entire town was out and about that night, with many of them scurrying about in helping to prepare the food and lights. A mage was passing through this night and provided perpetual light held in lanterns that were set up around the square, providing ample light for this celebration.
When the tables were finally set, Amendir began a prepared speech. The tables behind her were laden with everything that the two had seen earlier that day in the marketplace: stewed beefs, grilled porks, fried fish, and grilled chickens, all decorated with colorful carrots, luscious lettuce, plump peppers, ornate onions, and poached potatoes. They were set about in a most deliberate matter, their colors contrasting and blending at all the same times. The meats were cooked to perfection, and the vegetables that lay beside the on the table were found made any way that one could ever want them; steamed, broiled, stewed, if someone saught it, it would be found.
Organized by market vendors, it was run like a market: once you got your food on your plate, as much as you wanted to, you would sit down at any of the open tables, unless someone already sitting wanted you to sit beside them. The line would be allowed to pass before the seconds would be allowed, and the people behind the table making sure there was food where there would soon not be remembered faces well, knowing who had passed through once, and knowing who was in disguise, trying to bypass security, sometimes for the second, third, or even fourth time that night.
"This food is fantastic!" Rynn was practially wolfing down a piece of beef, stuffing after it a piece of buttered broccolli as if to force the partially chewed beef down her throat, following the curve of her stoop as she sat at the table as it would then land in her stomach. She took a drink of the water in the mug that was placed before her, quickly returning to finish off the remainder of the food on her plate. The men were looking incredulously her way, wondering how a woman of all people could eat so much, and so fast. Rynn looked up to see at least a dozen faces staring at her, their eyes shifting from her plate, her fork, her knife, and her mouth. "What, am I eating too slow?" she questioned. She smiled to herself before returning her attention to the corn left scattered on her plate.
Loraiel herself was enjoying the food, although not as publicly as her friend Rynn was. With the grace and etiquette of an aristocrat - something she was taught by her mentors - she cut a piece of the beef on her plate, skewered it on her fork and placed it into her mouth, chewing it fully as she swallowed it while she sat straight up in her chair, a perfect example of what many would call a 'lady.' She chose a pod of peas as her next target, expertly spearing them with the tip of her fork before they almost magically appeared her her mouth, once again chewing the fully before she swallowed. She carefully placed her fork on her plate before gently picking her the mug before her like it was a wine glass. She brought it to her lips and slowly drank from it, as if it was the most preciouo and last drink of water left on the earth.
She stopped drinking, but left the mug at her lips. She looked to her right to see Rynn in an odd manner, her fork halfway to her mouth, the last vegetable on her plate yet to be devoured, hanging inbetween its savior and its end. Rynn was looking as Loraiel as they caught each other's eye. They had both felt it, and now, they knew that they had both smelled it. Rynn slowly put the broccolli as she chewed it with slow intent, much different from the rest of her meal. The same men who were staring at her earlier were now staring at her now. Rynn's eyes shited around the square, looking for some evidence that something wrong was happening. Loraiel raised her eyes above the cylinder in her hand, doing much the same. "Dear, it's not very lady-like to drink for such a long time," she heard in the corner of her mind. She wansn't drinking she though; she was looking.
Amendir had long ago finished his speech and disappeared into the town. He had returned just a few moments ago, right before the pair had noticed something was wrong.
And something had indeed gone wrong.
It was at first a few scrams, a few cries from terrified children and babes. Then everyone heard the sounds of shifting movement, of creaking bones and rotting muscle as everyone became silent in a moment's notice. The men reached under the tables for the weapons that they had stowed away, the woman keeping their children silent as they creeped to the nearest room to ready their bows and their arrows. One of the men near Loraiel and Rynn saw their astonishment at the town's apparent readiness, and began to offer an explanation: "We always prepare for anything. The ladies have trained themselves in the art of the bow, and the men have long known how to defend their property and the life that is near and dear to them. But, never have we had to defend ourselves."
"And neither did you know that on this night, you have help." Loraiel's face was grim, but wore a mask of calm and seriousness. She peered over at Rynn, smiling as she armed herself. The thought of knocking a few brains - or whatever may be left of it - did not bother her a bit; in fact, she delighted in a little bit of excitement. During their two days of rest, she had been restless for the slightest bit of action, seeking out the troublemakers of the town, but finding nothing to satiate her thirst.
But on this night, she had her chance.
The magical lights were dispelled by another magic, unknown from whence it came.. The human mage, clad in a vibrant red, began casting spells on himself and those nearest to him, protections for himself and those that would shield him from any oncomer.
Loraiel stood up and jumped up on a table, Rynn already crouched atop another. The priestess began casting spells of blessing and aid and throwing globes of light in the darkest corners in hopes of flushing out any eager attackers.
A pair of winged beasts dropped out of the sky and picked up a man each, drawing a scream from both men as they swung their weapons above their heads, hoping to strike a vital part of the attacker. The beasts were attempting to fly back into the moonless and starless night in order to drop their prey to their deaths.
Before they could even dig their talons deeper into their prey, arrows from the windows sunk into their flesh, dropping them where they hovered. Men near to those who were almost taken away rushed to help remove their claws, dragging their friends into the safety of the nearest house where a woman was waiting with clean bandages.
The seige had begun.