18+ Dark of the Moon: A Companions Roleplay.

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    shadowkitty

    Mistress of Shadows
    jorrvaskr.jpg

    Levlin was cold. But the cold icicle that stabbed at his heart was not due to the fact that he was traversing through the depths of an ancient Nordic ruin far below the surface of Skyrim. It was born from the fear he felt at the meeting that would take place at the end of the hall he now strode along.

    He was a leader; cruel and ruthless. Feared among many himself. But he was nothing compared to the person on the other side of the door he was rapidly approaching. If the rumors were true and Levlin had no reason to dispute their authenticity. Two tall hooded men barred the ancient wood. He faltered for a moment until he lifted his head in a show of bravery.

    “The Master requested my presence” he said to the unmoving brutes. They stood aside, one holding open the door just wide enough for Levlin to slip through. The room beyond was small, lit only by a few candles and the flickering flames in the fireplace. It was sparsely furnished with just a pallet bed, a table and a chair that sat near the fireplace. Books and scrolls were scattered carelessly on the floor. There was a door on the other side of the room. To where it led, Levlin was not curious enough to want to know. A hooded figure sat in the chair, facing the flames, their face obscured by the dark material. Levlin shuffled further into the room. It smelt of blood and death. He could feel the power emanating from the person in the chair. It washed over him in waves of pure evil, making his insides clench tightly. He swallowed nervously and let out a small muffled grunt to announce his presence.

    A hand rested lightly on the arm of the chair, drumming its bejewelled fingers on the wood. Levlin waited for what seemed an eternity before the figure spoke only three words.

    “I need more”
     

    shadowkitty

    Mistress of Shadows
    She stalked silently through the trees, the shadows of the great giants keeping her hidden from the shafts of silver moonlight that pierced the forest floor here and there. Her every sense was on high alert as she pushed past a small thorny bush. Her crossbow was loaded, ready to fire in an instant. Her ears listened for any unusual sounds and her keen light-grey eyes scanned the forest ahead of her. A snap of a twig brought her to a stop and she stood statue-like, her head cocked to one side.

    Her other sense, the one which was born from her beast blood, cast out feelers into the darkened woods. She could feel dozens of other life forms around her; small rodents, insects and birds of prey. All the night creatures were out, doing what creatures do at night.

    Raven shifted in her armour. There was a slight misting rain and she detested getting wet while encased in steel. But she remained diligent and committed to the task at hand. She and her closest friend Rodric, were out on a routine visit to one of the Beast families they protected. The family, a father and his two young daughters, lived in a thick wooded area outside the city of Riften. Raven was fond of the two girls and often brought them sweet treats she bought in the Riften markets.

    The black haired beauty had been in good spirits, the journey having been pleasant enough. She always enjoyed going on a job with Rodric. He had been her closest friend since her very first job when he took on the role as her shield brother. She had been so nervous that night as they sat around the camp fire. She was sure she babbled incoherently. But her Wolf had sat there silently listening until he shocked her when he actually started to talk back. They had been friends ever since. Apart from her family, still living in Helgen, Rodric was the closest person she had. This job, routine as it was, saw her happy and content, the dark mood she sometimes found herself in, pushed deep down.

    She had looked forward to visiting with the family, but the closer they got to the little cabin in the woods, the more they felt that something wasn’t right. They had separated briefly to scout the area, but now she felt Rodric coming back towards her. Satisfied that the noise had been just an animal, Raven continued on, worried for what they were likely to find at the cabin. Rodric was then by her side and the pair approached the cabin cautiously. The first piece of evidence confirming that something wasn’t right was the fact that no light spilled out from the cabin’s windows.

    Raven hurried her steps when she saw the door to the little cabin, broken off its hinges and lying shattered on the ground. After a silent communication, Rodric had left her, circling around the woods so that he could approach from the back. She reached the cabin first, the hairs on her arms rising as new scents assaulted her nostrils. The bitter, acidic taint of blood. Her heart thumped inside her chest.

    “Rodric!” she sent out, urging her friend to her. Raven held her Crossbow ready and stepped over the threshold, her heart thumping in her chest. Furniture laid scattered everywhere, books torn, food smashed into the floor. There were signs of a mighty struggle, and more alarming, splatters of blood covering everything. She flared her nostrils... beast blood. But no signs of bodies. Raven turned and frowned as Rodric sprinted up to the door.

    “They’re gone” she said simply. Her body numb with the shock.
     

    Wolfbane

    Why change the past when you can own this day?
    He slowly walked between the looming towers of wood and leaves. Dark menacing branches hanging overhead like an assassin over its mark. The white shine of the moonlight slicked on the darkened ground, creating pools of white liquid. His fingers began to slightly play with the fletching of the arrow. He stopped momentarily to gaze at a corridor of white blanketed towers of the forest. He gave a slight smile as he smelled the sweet scent of the leaves and the numerous berry bushes littering the ground. Rodric was grateful to escape the stale air and smell of salty fish and the damned canals filled with murky waters that reek of dead sea life and the just as dead bodies.

    He took all the smells in as his ears took note of every sound. One of the many gifts of beast blood is heightened senses. How was this kind of prowess a curse? Every sound was as close as the trees and every scent was as strong as the blood of a fresh kill from a wolf only a mile away. The forest was one of the only places that could calm his mind. He hated the people like hated almost every city; Heavy pattering of footsteps, the buzzing of mouths, the scent of blood from the meat stall, the salty sting from the fish monger, it would sometimes overwhelm him. The people themselves were just as bad. If they don't point their nose up at you they're treating you as if you're a mangy dog. Whiterun isn't as bad as Solitude, and the city of Riften overshadows the beauty of the surrounding area.

    Rodric breathed through his nose to sink into his own mind. He could sense his companion out in the distance, not needing to see her with his own eyes. Raven was to take the front towards the cabin while he covered the back towards the wooded cabin.They have been sent to check on one of the many werefamilies they are tasked to protect. A father and his two daughters, which both friends loved. Raven would often times buy them treats or trinkets from the Riften stalls when they were about to head out into the thick woods of the city.

    Raven was one of the only people that really got him. The two had met when Raven was appointed to be his shield sibling. Rodric at the time paid because to him, there are very few people he truly cared for. After all most people only listen to wait for their turn to talk. It was a journey to the bandit camp they had to wipe out, so he wasn't looking forward to the nights. However, during the first night, she was the one to talk. Rodric was never the one to speak the first word knowing that people will just talk on their own time. As she continued to talk, he looked up from the fire and was almost drawn in by this girl who had a voice like spider's silk. Raven has the beauty of Nightshade; beautiful and appealing but swift and deadly. On a gamble, he answered and through out the late hours of the night grew closer than when she had first started speaking. When they ventured forth, there was only comfortable silence, which even then was sparse. As they reached the encampment and slew the bandits, they both learned that as a force, they complimented each other. Her bolts would pick off the distant targets and allow him to close in and take the battle to a more personal distance. If they were on a hunt, he would dawn his father's hunting bow, a family heirloom as she would dawn her crossbow. The two were almost single being. Now with the blood of the beast, they could communicate and think with no boundaries.


    He had finally reached his tensed companion. He was about to ask before he sensed that she figured out it was an animal. The two were in the high spirits; the journey itself was quiet and beautiful and then family was one of their best. As the two went on, however,they had sensed each others' concern, both looking at one another almost at an exact moment. The door of the cabin was in sight and Raven proceeded to stop as Rodric silently agreed and wrapped around the back. The overwhelming smell of blood and fear filled is nostrils, making him weary of his surroundings. A feeling of being watched sneaked it's way inside his mind, making him narrow his eyes as he used his senses to pick out any footprints, cracked branches, scurrying animals, anything that would signal to him that they were not alone.

    A silent call went out, making his head perk up, "Rodric!" he quickly turned on his heels and began to madly dash back to the front door, fearing the worst. He was then welcomed by a frowning Raven and a scene of a fierce struggle. The two could smell, blood, sweat, fear, and malice. It was stained on every surface as the blood was stained on the floor.

    "They're gone." The simplicity of the statement had a ring of sadness and disbelief. What had exactly happen? Where did they go and who took them? There was indeed a struggle and there was no need to really delve into it. At least not until they figure out their next move.

    "It reeks of blood and rage. But from what or who?" The two locked eyes almost in shock as they tried to figure out what the hells is going on.
     

    Kaelbu

    Well-Known Member
    With an agitated sigh, Eira scanned the Whiterun market for her target. She hated these jobs.
    Find the problem. Encourage it to stop being a problem. Get back to doing something useful with my time.

    Someone always felt it was the Companions' job to settle their personal disputes. "Retrieve this heirloom." "Exterminate this pest." "Intimidate this idiot."
    Of course, Eira knew such trifles were a necessity for them now. On top of their other duties, it seemed the Companions were glorified mercenaries. These little services funded them in a way, she assumed. But the citizens loved them for it, and expected it of them.

    So now the tall, battle-ready Nord found herself leaning against a market stall in Whiterun's Plains district, her battle axe passively stuck to her back and a grumpy expression ever present on her face. It was taking longer than usual for the subject of her objective to show his face. It seemed he always roamed this part of the city, especially when she wasn't looking for him. She imagined him discovering the contract and delaying their meeting just to annoy her.

    Just as Eira was about to try again in the Wind district, there came the man she was looking for, sauntering out of Belethor's store as if he owned it.
    Nazeem.

    Wasting no time, she marched up to him, bumping directly into his chest and knocking him back a foot.
    "Wha-- who do you think--"
    Nazeem's eyes widened as he realized who'd had the audacity to run into him.
    "Oh! Companion..."
    Eira scowled at him at eye level. He faltered for a moment before straightening his stance again.

    "What can I--"
    "You know why I'm here, Nazeem. You have a knack for pissing people off."
    The nobleman looked as though he might get angry for a second, but obviously realized a brawl with Blood-Fist was not the wisest course of action.

    "Dis. Con. Tin. Ue," she said, emphasizing every syllable.
    Eira glared at him for a full five seconds before turning her back on him and heading toward Jorrvaskr. Pleased that her task was over, a faint smile crossed her lips as she remembered it was Nazeem's wife who ordered him roughed up in the first place.

    Back at home, Eira made a bee-line for the Underforge. Raven and Rodric had summoned the Circle to meet that night, and it was almost time. She made a quick detour to the tables in the training area and snatched up a bottle of ale, then ducked inside and leaned against the cave wall to await the gathering.

    To her, it seemed as though it had been a while since they'd used the Underforge. Eira wondered what prompted her shield-siblings to call for this meeting, but didn't ponder long. She cracked open her ale and silently waited for the others to begin.
     

    Lady Redpool the Unlifer

    Pyro, Spirits Connoisseur, and Soulless Anarchist
    Syke was in heaven.

    Lying shirtless on top of the Skyforge Eagle's Head, enjoying the heat of the rock from the Skyforge below and the sun above it all day. It had become his favorite perch in the city. Comfortable, warm, and a view of the surrounding city and plains only beaten by the Jarl's personal balcony up in Dragonsreach. Combined with what the forge represented, the power and history that seemed to emanate from it, and the guards not chasing him because the Jarl wanted a breath of fresh air, there was nowhere in the city he'd rather be.

    Here he felt he was doing the right thing, joining the Circle. He hadn't been a member for long, and had only joined, or even been accepted, because Athis had asked. He admired the old dark elf, but he didn't feel like he belonged here. Sure, the others had been kind enough, and understood the things he was going through as a new were-beast, but he was intimidated. Down there, in the city, doing jobs for the people, he felt like he wasn't doing enough to prove himself. Around the others, he just didn't feel worthy.

    Here though, he felt right. In the night, when he wasn't hunting some problem animal, or finding another way to occupy his time since he didn't sleep anymore, he climbed up here. He felt the companion's of the past seeming to give their blessing through the Skyforge, lending their whispered encouragement on the breeze and feeling their acceptance from the forge-fire. Hearing their wisdom subconsciously as he honed his blades on the grindstone.

    Smiling at all the thought of belonging and being worthy from a cold-blooded, highly trained assassin, he pulled his shirt off of his face and and blinking at the orange sunlight streaming into his eyes from the west, sat up. He had spent the whole afternoon here, getting away from the nervousness at the meeting tonight. Sighing at the loss of his peaceful place, he pulled his shirt on and rolled backwards over the Eagle's beak. After twisting in the air, he landed in front of the forge in a ready crouch. The ancient smith working the even more ancient forge didn't even blink. With a smirk, he walked forward and dropped down in front of the entrance to the Underforge...........and realized he didn't remember how to get in, only having been shown once before.

    Embarrassed, he began a short pacing outside in front of the cliff, watiting for another Circle member to let him in.
     

    Cordelia

    Global Moderator
    Staff member
    The coming day held its breath. Savage Skyrim waited, more asleep than awake, beneath the shadowed umbra of the mountains. The frozen land was barely ready to stretch and roll over for the coming dawn, but already there was blood.

    Even without the suggestion of light from the pre-dawn hour, Elys had no trouble tracking the mages. Wild elemental mages with tempers as volatile as the magicks they wielded, whatever plans they'd once had for themselves had quickly devolved into a power struggle across Whiterun, which would only end in death. Ordinarily, Elys would have been content to let them kill each other without interference, but their proximity to the less sheltered farms around Whiterun city posed a threat that couldn't be ignored. Not a huge threat, but a potentially deadly threat to some of Whiterun's lifeblood, none the less. Besides, putting them down was a simple enough task. It truly wasn't a problem worthy of calling in a Circle member, but it was a prime opportunity for training, which was why she crept through the moon shadows outside the city with one of the new bloods.

    He lacked the beast sight and senses, but there was a beastial determination in his heart that kept him clawing, and scraping, and howling to ever improve his strengths. The haggard haunting of the whelp's gaze spoke volumes of mystery; he had never said as much, but Elys sensed he sought to kill as many demons in his own mind as around him in the world.

    She knew she couldn't slay his own demons for him, but she could help him turn his green inexperience into a keen weapon for slaying the demons haunting Skyrim. Perhaps that would be enough for him in the end.

    Neither of the mages they followed had yet gained the upper hand; both hurled ice and chill winds at the other in a cloud of cacophonous malice, but exhaustion was setting in, and even the conjured cold couldn't mask the sharp tang of copper in the air.

    New Blood rushed the mages.

    The element of surprise was on his side, which is why he managed to get a good slice in on the mage nearest to him before either of them knew what was happening. From there the fight was a little slower going, though he did well to hold his own. For a while. His attacks became more erratic as the battle wore on, and Elys could see his inner demons winning against him. It wasn't quite panic she smelled, but certainly desperation, and that desperation was going to get him killed.

    Elys raised Zephyr with a steel arrow at the ready as New Blood howled her name at the lightening sky.

    She swore beneath her breath, forced to loose the arrow at random to avoid the ice spire the mage in combat managed to fire with disconcerting accuracy. The next lance landed several lengths away from her; the mage had no real idea where she was. The acrid scent of panic and rage filled the air as he fired wildly at the whelp and his unseen ally, weaving around like a gibbering lunatic, and Elys struggled to get the fool enough in her sights to put an end to the whole affair.

    Frostbite was upon her before she could fire the next arrow.

    She gasped reflexively, filling her lungs with the crystalline air. She lost sensation in her fingers, and couldn't tell if she was still holding her bow or not. Life became frozen pain, but not for the first time.

    "Move!" she gasped in her mind. Movement wasn't easy, but she knew it wasn't as impossible as the spell made it feel, and not moving was a swift ticket to Sovengarde.

    After the initial shock, Elys forced blind movement, working with the remnants of muscle memory and the stubborn refusal to let a whelp's mistake cost her her life as a distant "Gods, no!" rang through the early morning air. Before she could reorient herself to force an arrow at the surviving mage in bleed-out in the shrubs, she was hit with the full force of the fully armored New Blood as he tackled her to the ground and out of harm's way. Presumably. The pain in her side suggesting freshly cracked ribs argued that "harm's way" was far more subjective than she'd thought when they left Jorrvaskr.

    "Just finish them," she growled, irritation breaking through the frost lingering on her hood and mask.

    Driven, no doubt, to protect his senior, the whelp's skill returned anew. Focus drove his movements with furious precision, and Elys remembered why she took the time to train him in the first place. It didn't make her side hurt less, but it did make her feel less like sliding a knife into his neck the next time he fell asleep. So, that was something.

    The sun had not yet risen over the jagged Eastern crown, but its light had already painted the sky by the time New Blood had finally finished their chore. He offered a sheepish and embarrassed hand to her as she still lay where he had tackled her down. She let him help her up, but politely brushed off his attempt to support her back to Whiterun.

    "Next time, maybe tackle one of the people attacking me?"

    "Sorry, Elys," he said, trying not to show the anger he obviously felt at his performance.

    "Learn from it, or don't bother apologizing. Words are meaningless," she said, softening the hard reality of her words with a soft kiss to his cheek.

    By the time they returned to Jorrvaskr, the sun was fully risen, warming the cold cobblestone streets. Elys dismissed the whelp when they entered the ancient mead hall. A note on her door requested the presence of the Circle in the Underforge later. She tore it down as she entered the room, carefully stripping out of her "armor", such as it was, as she made her way to the bed, where she collapsed and was dead to the world.

    The internal clock of the nocturnal fox from which she received her gift alerted her to twilight's approach. She rose from the bed slowly, wincing slightly at the ache in her ribs. Delicate fingers climbed the exposed skin around and between each rib as she probed them for damage. She gave a sigh only vaguely tinged with pain when she discovered only bruising.

    She slipped into the diaphanous blue of her favorite "I can't be bothered" gown, stepped into a pair of beaded slippers, and padded up the stairs and out of the mead hall.

    Stepping back out into the brazen Skyrim sun, she gave a careful stretch, feeling the muscles shift around the bruising, and approached the Underforge where Syke currently paced like a caged wolf.

    Saying nothing, she slipped up behind him and covered his eyes with her cool, slim hands, and leaned against his back with her cheek against his shoulder.

    "Take us in, Syke," she whispered. "The Underforge awaits."
     

    shadowkitty

    Mistress of Shadows
    Raven paced back and forth in her room, hugging herself tightly so as not to fall to pieces. She and Rodric had arrived back earlier in the day and had called a meeting with the rest of the Circle in the Underforge later. Rarely used now but for ceremonies, they both felt that the news they brought deserved to be told in their most sacred of places. They had made the sombre journey back to Whiterun with barely a word spoken between them; each lost in their own dark thoughts. Raven had to continually stop herself from imagining what horrors Aslund Spear-Heart and the girls Helgi and Freda had gone though. Or were still, if they were alive.

    She could feel her family around her. Syke was high above, no doubt on the roof of the Mead hall or the forge. Eira was moving through the city. Elys was sleeping in her room. Rodric was across the hall in his own room, probably tossing his dagger from hand to hand, like he always did when thinking serious thoughts. Raven couldn't imagine loosing any one of them. Loosing the Spear-Hearts was bad enough. She choked back a sob and clutched at her tunic top tighter. That scene in the little cabin had disturbed her more than she would openly admit. But she kept her tears behind closed doors, unwilling to show weakness to the others.

    She and Rodric had stretched themselves to their limits both physically and mentally searching for the family, but had found no clue as to their whereabouts. No clue, bar one. The horrid thing was in Rodric's room, wrapped in a blanket. Both of them not willing to touch it directly. She was exhausted but could not sleep, could not rest even. So she paced. She was certain she was wearing a track in the rug. Normally she would deal with her dark mood on her own. But this was different. She needed some comfort in the form of another. She looked at her door, imagining seeing right through it and into Rodric's room. Rodric, her closet friend whom had shared this horrible discovery with her.

    Her feet left her room and she padded softly to Rodric's door and placed a hand on the rough wood.

    “Wolf? May I come in?”
     

    Wolfbane

    Why change the past when you can own this day?
    There was a green blanket that held something within. Something so horrid he couldn't touch it. It laid on the dresser as he tossed his dagger side to side, almost with the creaks of Raven's footsteps in the next room. She was no doubt as troubled and saddened as he was. Rodric himself as seen horrible things, comes with being a companion along with having the Feral gift. But this, this was something he never wanted to think about, let alone discover that something like this happened to a good family. A family much like the one he has in these very halls. Rodric would take a deadly blow for all of the members, especially Raven. Every circle member had a strong, immediate connection to one another. Comes from the beast blood. It would get stronger the heavier the emotion was. Raven in the other room had feelings of intense sadness along with fleeting attempts to keep in together. Who can blame her. The two friends said little on their way back, and he sensed it then. Syke himself was baking like a fresh egg, Eira was nose deep in ale, Elys had just arrived and thus made her way to the Underforge.

    How many times did he toss the dagger? He did not know. As he was idly thinking of how many exact times he has tossed the damned thing, he began to glare at the shrouded object. It was left with intent, not on accident. The footsteps from the hallway moved closer, breaking him out of idle when a soft knock along a sweet voice crept through the wood of the door, “Wolf? May I come in?”

    "You need not ask, Hana. Come in." The door gently opened to reveal Raven and tear stained face. Rodric sheathed his dagger and walked up to her before holding her in a gentle embrace. Raven buried her face in his chest and slowly started to cry, feeling as if they both had failed to protect the family. He could feel the pain as strongly as he could feel his sense of anger.

    "My little Hana. We'll figure this out and find them. If we don't, we'll track the animals who did this and rip their flesh bit by bit as they scream for a swift death. You look prettier when you don't cry," He put his thumb under her chin and lifted her face towards his and gave a kind smile before giving a kiss on the cheek. Hana went to sit down as Rodric looked over the object and do the same. As he sat, Hana fell into him and sighed heavily as if falling asleep. They had a few moments before the meeting, and she needed the rest. He traced his finger down her arm, knowing that puts her to sleep. All he could think about is the painful death that they will bring to the animals to took two girls. Girls that were like they were him and Hana's own. In family, you pay blood with blood.
     

    Cordelia

    Global Moderator
    Staff member
    Syke tensed as unfamiliar hands covered his eyes. His mind sped through every worst-case possibility ingrained into him from his training while logic desperately tried to rein him in before he could react and regret it.

    Delicate hands, a soft warm body against his own. Elys his mind registered too late. The elven blade was in his hand before he'd even wrenched himself free of her embrace. Elys wore a smile that would have shamed the Divines as she watched him stuff the blade back in its sheath.

    "Sithis," Syke muttered angrily. "I almost killed you!"

    Elys draped herself against him, wrapping her arms around his neck and laying her head upon his shoulder.

    "Oh, Syke. Watching you try would have made my night." Her body tensed against his, and she hid a wince of pain; she was still perfectly capable of holding her own, but there would have been a high price to pay for such entertainment. The bruising around her ribs would diminish with time, but she had forgotten how inconvenient they were the first few days.

    Syke was speechless, awkwardly supporting her with no idea what to do with his hands as he struggled to focus on her words. Dark Mother, even the sound of her voice was distracting!

    "I, uh . . . " Was he speaking? What was he even trying to say? He became keenly aware of the cadence of her breathing; even, but with a slight hitch suggesting injury. It was hypnotic.

    And that was it for Syke.

    "We . . . the others," he managed, removing himself from Elys woodenly and with great effort. "They're waiting. Probably. We should . . . we should probably join them."

    Elys smiled, letting her arms fall back to her sides as she watched him squirm. She gestured toward the rock wall beside them. "By all means," she said, a mischievous glint in her pale eyes.

    Heat rose in his cheeks as he looked at the rock wall where she gestured. Dragon's teeth, he swore. He had completely forgotten about the door.

    "I . . . ." He paused, and sighed; he should have paid more attention when Raven showed him the first time. "I don't remember how." The confession stung. If the Circle cut him out, he wouldn't even be surprised. Sure, he knew how to kill things better than almost anyone in Tamriel, but if he couldn't even remember how to open a door, what use was he?

    Elys' smile grew, but there was no malice behind it. She slipped up to his side again and kissed his cheek. "I know," she said in her sing-song voice before sweeping over to the wall. She pressed her palm against a piece of stone that looked exactly like every other piece of stone, and the door opened with surprisingly little sound.

    And just like that she was gone, disappeared into the shadows of the Underforge. Syke followed after her, shaking his head.

    What in Oblivion just happened?
     

    Kaelbu

    Well-Known Member
    Eira glared at her empty bottle with half-open eyes. Either the bottlers weren't filling them up all the way, or she was getting much more efficient at draining them. Both possibilities annoyed her.
    Grumbling a little under her breath, she shoved off the cave wall she'd been leaning against and walked toward the door, aiming to get her hands on another bottle to tide her over until the others arrived. Just as she neared the door, however, it quietly slid open.

    As what light there was outside spilled in, so did Elys and Syke. Eira hadn't even noticed them approach.

    "It's about time," she teased, raising the empty ale bottle and turning it upside down. "It was about to get painfully boring in here."

    She noticed young Syke appeared to be recovering from something-- or someone-- who had flustered him. The fact that Elys was the one he followed in, however, was telling. Eira raised an eyebrow at him, but said nothing.

    "I wonder what's keeping our summoners," she said, falling back to where she'd propped herself before.
     

    shadowkitty

    Mistress of Shadows
    Raven started awake with a gasp, the screams from her dream still echoing in her head. She and Rodric had both somehow ended up curled up on his bed. His arm draped protectively over her. Confused at the feelings that rose in her from that closeness, she sat upright, rubbing at her eyes. The bed shifted underneath her as Rodric did the same.

    “Damn Hana” he chuckled “You scared me half to death” She poked her tongue at him and then sighed. She had fallen asleep but did not feel rested at all. She stood and adjusted her clothes and then untied her hair from it's leather cord. It spilled about her face all tousled and wild. She held the leather in her teeth while she ran her fingers through her mane, trying to tame it.

    “I feel the others in the Underforge” she stated through her clenched teeth, more for something to say. Of course Rodric could sense them to. He nodded and slid off the bed, pulling his boots on. Raven re-tied her hair and waited for Rodric. She eyed the green bundle on the table with hatred.

    “Don't forget that..thing” she nodded in it's direction. Rodric gingerly picked it up and they headed to the forge together. Raven's heart pounded in her chest. She knew the others wouldn't take their news well, and she hated to hurt her family so. Wolf's presence beside her was encouraging however and she took in a breath of fresh air before entering the forge.

    The Circle members were there, waiting expectantly. Raven waited until the door closed, locking them away from the rest of the world. She walked over to the others as Rodric placed the green bundle on the pedestal in the middle of the room.

    “Shield Brother, Shield Sisters” She greeted them a little more formally than usual. She smiled briefly at them each. “Glad to see you all again, and seemingly in one piece” She cocked her head to one side and peered at Syke.

    “Been getting more sun I see” she teased at him. She turned to Elys.

    “You look as lovely as ever El” she greeted the pretty blonde then nodded at Eria.

    “Eria, I may just join you in a bottle or two after we are done here” Raven tried to be at least a little jovial as she greeted her shield siblings, but she could tell she was failing miserably. The pain was clearly evident in her eyes. Rodric stood beside her and she took comfort in the heat emanating from his body.
     

    Wolfbane

    Why change the past when you can own this day?
    "You must all be wondering why you have been summoned here, on this day. It would seem we have been busy with bathing in the sun like a deadly snake, finding ourselves in a bottle or two, or look beautiful with a hint of blood on ourselves," he motioned to each shield siblings that went with the actions he described before slowly exposing the object, feeling Raven trying to find comfort from he heat he produced. He gripped the blanket and unveiled a glistening death dealer, tip pointing up and the fire of the underforge dancing and bouncing off of it, capturing his rage as he glared at his family.

    The green blanket was draped over his hand like a curtain over a ledge before he put it down next to the fire, tempted to get it scolding hot as to get Eorlund to break it apart and use it as forging material. The others looked around at each other with bewilderment. A silver sword could only mean one thing and a name they thought were wiped out; The Silver Hand. The very group was exterminated like rats what seemed not to long ago. It looked like they were done for, but like all vermin, they go into hiding once they know the end is near. The rats have pestered the pack for far too long.

    "Brothers and sisters, we all know what this means It was not left due to carelessness. This is a taunt and an invitation to go hunt them down. The worms have grown spines and turned into snakes. Have the times changed? Do snakes lurk in the grass and hunt down wolves in the night? No! The wolves hunt down their prey and taste their blood." the speech had obviously riled up the room seeing as how Eria raised an empty bottle with a cheer while Elysium continued to prod Syke to the point of shyness while he himself was trying to cheer with his shield sister with a bottle high above her head.

    "This is was a strong move on their part; come from hiding by attacking a soft target. That way it could be under the cover of if need be, and no one would know. But they don't know who they are trifling with. I won't give some long winded speech, but I wanted to tell you all about the situation at hand and what we found preceding this meeting. What do you lot have to say? Are you prepared to go forth with this battle?"

    The question was rhetorical since everyone was about to ready to kill the nearest person, but it adds to the severity and the camaraderie. Rodric look at Raven and quietly uttered a few words to his long time friend, "Are you ready, Hana?"

     

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