Fate - First Reply A Deadly Dance and A Lonely Soul

[Len Dy't B-taa]

"Move as though you are without bone or muscle, as free and without true form as the crashing waves that fall from the tallest of rivers, as ferocious and untamable as the wild beast emerging from the tree line to strike at it's dinner. Do not ask your body to move, and do not tell the ground beneath your feet to catch you. The steel in your hands is your anchor, tying you to the world. Hold your blade dear, as it is the only thing that prevents you from floating off into what cannot be known or spoken. Grip your sword and never be forgotten, my love."




He remembered the first time he'd heard those words in his head, telling him to go forth and not to be forgotten, whispered through the darkness into his ear from a voice as soft as velvet. She had kept him warm on the last night of his Illya, both of their bodies chilled to the bone by the treacherous winter that had battered their shelter for a month prior. He could barely see her form underneath the dim light of the torches hung on the wall, but the way her warmth enveloped him was enough to assure him of all that he'd needed to know. Yura had been his first lover, borne out of a friendship cultivated through years of learning together. It was when he would dance that he would recall the time they'd spent together, underneath the Fifth Tree. Life had been simple back then, it was before he knew the pain that the end of his Illya would bring. The times of drinking exotic concoctions on the branches of the seven between his training sessions wouldn't last. Much like many who grow up far too quickly, he wished he hadn't taken them for granted. By the time his love for Yura had finally blossomed, they had to go their separate ways. Len was willing to break from his fate, to run away with her and live out life cast out from his home. He asked her... "What do you want me to do?"

Those words... "Grip your sword and never be forgotten." That was her answer.

Even in his return to The Aberrant Kingdom Yura's touch still lingered, though he would never see her again. His life would become nothing but battle and horror, soaked in naught but blood and valor. No longer would he dance for the entertainment of others, but only to defend the land whom had given him everything. Yura's love had taught the young Len an important lesson, one that pertained to his dancing as well:

Sometimes the gentlest grip is one that it as hard as steel.

That was past. The Aberrant Kingdom was dust. The Seven Trees had long since fallen.
In present, the masked but otherwise mostly bare figure stood tall. His hands were locked behind his back, his blade resting across his toned shoulder-blades behind his neck. The applause again rang in his ears. He bent over in a bow, displaying gratitude to the merchants and traders of Maraan who had gathered. One was even so kind as to hand Len his armor from the ground. He loosened his shoulders, allowing the blade to fall to the ground as he took his clothes from the young man. They were all trying to converse with him, but he could not focus on their words. He'd allowed himself to be distracted too easily; The roads of The Aberresai were under his guard, and threats were constant. Ignoring the offerings of money and praise, he steps away from the crowd with nothing but his clothes and his blade. He would rest, and set out once more.

He staggered as he walked towards the closest inn, but made an attempt to continue in spite of the sudden drumming of his heartbeat in his ears. Again, his balance failed, dropping him to one knee on the ground. This was a common occurrence as of late. Len did not know whether it was a medical issue with his new body, Or more likely he was exerting himself too much. His breath came as heavy as iron, and he lowered to a seated position on the hard ground, all the energy leaving him at once. The sword and armor he carried fell from his arms. He could the edges of his vision blurring. With a shake of his head, he pulls himself to the closest wall, leaning himself against the rough stone that it was comprised of. The sight of a half-naked humanoid creature wearing a mask slumped against a wall may have been an odd one, but after his performance there were few who would dare approach. He would sit here until his bearings returned. At least he had the sun.

The Sun never died.

 

[Kassa Lia]

Relentless, the sun seared the land. Lines of various buildings shimmered along the horizon, and man, beast, and bird alike sought shelter in the shade. Those who braved the heat wore hoods or balaclavas, and long sleeved tunics, to protect their skin from inevitable burning. Water was kept nearby in bottles and jugs, guarded fiercely. For all her life, Kassa could not recall such abominable heat.

Not since that day…

She walked down the paths of Maraan – town too small for a city and too large for a village – pondering the heat and wondered what drew her here. The smoke of her visions were never so clear, never so poignant when pointing her in this particular direction, and she followed it faithfully. But the heat was quickly making her regret her decision. The memories they brought were painful, and she hated the weakness pain brought.

There was a small crowd gathered in the middle of the street, lively with chatter and applause. Kassa peered out from underneath her hood, stretching her neck to see what the ruckus was about. A street performer, she surmised as she spotted the dancer. A literal sword dancer. She took a swig of a bottled water she carried and examined the masked man as his sword sang and flashed in the sun.

His movements were smooth, precise, elegant and mesmerizing. A master of the sword; Kassa could tell simply by watching him. Anyone other fool would have cut themselves with the deadly motions this man wove so seamlessly with his toned body. For a long moment, Kassa stood with his audience, watching. As it was, it was not long, and too long, before his dance was finished, and the man waved away money and praise. That was odd. Greed ruled all hearts, and this man ignored coin? Kassa decided he must already be rich, elsewise it simply would not make sense.

She glanced at the dispersing onlookers before stepping after the dancer, following him to the side of an inn, whereupon he collapsed. A bird, as if in agreement, perched nearby on a stone and panted.

Kassa sauntered up to the man and stood over him, as much as a woman as short as she could stand over anyone. She eyed the bird and then the man. Both were quite the sight.

“Did you ever see a bird pant?” she queried. “I daresay humans aren’t supposed live in this kind of hell either.” She squatted beside the man, her eyes running over the mask. She offered her water. “Thirsty?”

 

[Len Dy't B-taa]

Len had allowed himself to succumb to sleep, his exposed frame laid bare to the harsh elements of the air. He was content with his own safety, or perhaps more so the lack of it; He would have been completely content for his own revoked death to be returned to him after doing the one thing he loved that remained in this world. It would have been the most fitting end to his time spent in this land.

Of course, he knew he would not be so lucky as to be killed in his sleep. Fate had told him as much when he had awoken after decades of slumber. No, there was more for him to accomplish in this world.

"Grip your sword and never be forgotten."

He felt something. It was featherlight against his mask, casting invisible shadows through the eyes that roused him from the light slumber he faded in and out of: He was being watched. His nimble hand was not cautious, and like lighting it rose to close around whatever was hovering close enough for him to sense. Even as his hand closed around the strangely shaped thing, he could not identify what it was. It was so familiar, and yet as foreign as an unfamiliar bed.

No... he closed his fingers, interlocking them in the gaps spaced out in what he now held. It was a hand. He hadn't felt another's touch in so long, that he'd indeed forgotten the shape and feel of such a thing. There was a swath of silence, only the sound of their breathing between them.

It was with a low hum that he released the hand, looking up at the girl who now squatted at his side. She looked to be land-roamer, with a burning auburn hair and eyes the color of emerald. As far as land-roamer's went, she was far easier on his eyes than anybody else in Maraan at the very least. The hand that held hers rests on his pectoral and his other digs into the ground, straining to straighten himself under the sheer pressure of the heat.

"He who is master of his thirst is master of his health."

His voice certainly didn't match the acrobatics he'd been performing earlier. He sounded gravelly and tired, as though he'd one years without drop in his throat. His head rolled to the side softly. She would not be able to see it, but the creature beneath the mask smiled.

"Humans maybe not. I am not of such a creed."

Kassa Lia

 

[Kassa Lia]

Reflex was a fickle thing, and though Kassa’s awareness was sharp, the dancer’s proved sharper. His hand shot out, grabbing hers, and she stiffened, expecting swift, unwanted reprisal for all her efforts. But what did she expect? Her lips curled in a frown as she tensed, the power she held in reserve building. She wouldn’t let this thing –

Just as suddenly, he let go. Oh.

She at back against her heels as he spoke, his voice a stark contrast to the grace he displayed only moments before. She smirked as he spoke nonsense words about mastery, thirst and health… men were all the same, it seemed. She swept back her flaming hair and peered at him, wondering why he wore a mask, curious as to what he had to hide. Or if he was hiding anything at all. Masks were worn for different reasons; some were worn only for the sake of tradition or amusement.

“Oh? I don’t think you know much about health at the moment, sir.” Though Kassa couldn’t see his face, he still looked close to death. She almost felt sorry for him, then remembered his wealth. Perhaps the man was having a bout with depression, something she could sympathize with.

An eyebrow cocked as he shunned her water. She withdrew the bottle, swishing the life-saving liquid around thoughtfully. Not of such a creed? Heh.

A moment of awkward silence passed as Kassa thought. She didn’t like making hasty decisions. That only served for ill reactions. But something about the masked dancer interested her. Perhaps he was the reason she had come here. Even if not, well, what did she have to lose? It would serve to pass the time, and of that she had plenty just then.

“Look,” she said at last, very pointedly. “I’m not in the charity business, but nor am I in the business of letting someone loll in misery and die while I loiter and watch. Can you stand?” She stood up. “You just collapsed against an inn, a pleasant place to get some food. I’m hungry, and you look famished.”

 

[Len Dy't B-taa]

Another laugh choked up from his throat, bitter and dry. Yes, how ridiculous must he have sounded speaking in proverbs as he lay whittling away in the dry heat of the savannah? She sounded just like the land-roamers he grew up with: So brash and forward. He could almost feel a small pang of nostalgia bud deep in his empty gut. The hand that rested on his chest trailed off of his skin, landing on the ground underneath him.

"You are correct. I am not one who should be making claims of pristine health. His voice grew quieter, his fingers drawing shapes along the dirt beneath him. "I've always been too wordy for my own good. It's why I prefer to keep quiet, you know..." Ever since he'd awoken once more, he'd closed himself off to the world as it now was. His thoughts and priorities... they continued to be misaligned and malformed. What manner of magic had been used to bring him back to the living?

It didn't matter. Dancing himself to death, starving his new body of both attention and sustenance... he was wrong. That was not an acceptable end. Not when there were still strangers who would extend a hand to one of his own. He turns his head to face her once more. His gaze lingered on her once more, and with a sharp breath, he rose to his feet. If it were not for the deathly pale color of his skin, he would look to be an extremely healthy male. Leaning down, he scoops the heavy looking armor into his arms, and takes the sword in one of his hands.

"Well, I guess dying on an empty stomach is rather passé, isn't it? You should have kicked me in the ribs for thinking about it, Land-Roamer." He turns to look at the building he'd been contemplating his own morality against. He hadn't eaten since his revival, and that was likely a major contributing factor to his condition...

"Are your kind usually so bold as to ask a male to dinner before you've even introduced yourself?" He hummed inquisitively, setting some of the armor down to begin dressing himself. Normally he would have refused such an invitation, but he owed her the company. She'd likely prevented something rather bad from happening to him, whether she knew it or not.

"Very well. You may call me Len Dy't B-taa. I am a servant of The Fifth Tree, Vanguard of The Aberrant Kingdom. I believe a meal would be... nice."

Kassa Lia

 

[Kassa Lia]

Not being too reckless, Kassa slid back a step as the dancer rose, sword and armor in hand. Though she did not particularly fear him, she didn’t want to risk anything on the possibility he might prove treacherous. Even this soon. In these days and times, there were more of that kind of man than any other.

Her green eyes swept over him again, taking in what appearance she could see. He was pale and his movements tired, but the hand and arm was neither bony nor looked to be malnourished at all, reinforcing the idea that he was in fact wealthy. His pallid skin could simply be a feature of his race… and that, Kassa admitted she had no idea what he could be. He didn’t look like any elf she’d encountered, but there was something off that suggested he was not entirely human either. It piqued her interest.

“You should have kicked me in the ribs for thinking about it, Land-Roamer.”

“Warn me sooner next time, and I’ll get right on it,” she said with dry humor. She tilted her head as he dressed himself anew, and curtsied in a rather mocking way, not too unkindly. “Pardon my manners. Kassa Lia, apparently at your service.” She straightened and took in his name carefully, committing every syllable, every sound, even the nuance beneath to memory. Those titles too, were both queerly strange and wholly unfamiliar to her. Vanguard of the Aberrant Kingdom? Oooh, fancy.

“That’s quite the name. Len Dy’t B-taa,” she echoed smoothly. “Well, your Fifth Tree and Kingdom thinks you need something before you keel over… again,” she said as she turned to lead the way to the inn’s entrance.

Going by the whimsical name of The Sterling Unicorn, the inn was first and foremost a tavern. At this time of day, it was most busy. Those wealthy enough to spend their coin here sought shelter from the sun indoors, with minor spells ventilating the air and keeping the space pleasantly cool. While not opulent, The Sterling Unicorn was clean and had an air of dignity, with polished oak tables and chairs. Cushioned stools were arranged before a bar kept full with all manner of drinks, managed by a slickly dressed elf. The kitchens deeper within rang with busywork, and the smells were most tempting.

 

[Len Dy't B-taa]

Len was... unused... to feeling such an analytical gaze on his form. Perhaps in the past he would have taken such a gesture as compliment, but now even he was unsure of what he could be considered. Ever since he'd been breathed into this body, it had begun to change; taking the shape of who he'd once been, when he'd stood proud at the front of The Aberrant Legion. His feelings on this change were... mixed. He should have been quite elated to be returning to his true self, and yet the sight of his own body caused his mind pain, the memories swirling in his maelstrom of a mind crashing against the walls of his head.

If he was able, he may have even blushed.

Once the armor covered his body once more, he outstretched his arms wide. The suit looked much too heavy for the heated environment they were currently in, but it did not seem to bother Len that much. Stepping forward, he folds his arms across his chest and bows to her. "Kassa Lisa. I won't forget your kindness, begrudging as you may make it sound." The fact that she seemed insistent on playing it off like she'd done nothing for him didn't change the fact that she'd helped a stranger in need. It was a great virtue she extolled.

He passes her on his way into the tavern, his masked head tilting towards her. If she could only see the amused look on his face. "I wouldn't worry about next time. I try not to make the same mistake twice." It was a mantra he used to share with his fellow men in battle. Len did not take anything for granted; When he fell and failed, he learned from that failure. That was the only way to ensure one's eventual victory.

The tavern itself was more upscale than Len would have given Maraan credit for. It certainly paled in comparison to those he'd visited on his Illya, but it was nothing to balk at all the same. Without much of a word, he pulls a seat out and sits at an empty table. He folds his hands in front of him, muttering to Kassa as she joins him there.

"I'm a bit low on currency. I should have enough for a drink at least. Were I in better wealth, I would treat you to whatever you like in return for your efforts. I apologize."

Kassa Lia

 

[Kassa Lia]

Clicking her tongue in approval at the bar’s stately atmosphere, Kassa made to place herself across from Len, setting her small backpack and satchel beside her chosen seat. They looked like a couple out for a treat, but as she settled in her chair that was when Len made the lie popular with most wealthy men. It was only with the greatest of efforts that Kassa managed to not roll her eyes. She intended to call him out on his fib… but a second glance at Len gave her pause.

Kassa prided herself as a superb judge of character. Truth and lies stood plain before her; she’d only ever been fooled once, and that was when she was a young gullible child. Looking at Len, she could find no hint of greed, no sly look most con men displayed whether they knew it or not. Nor did he have the wide innocent look that so often made her laugh at its transparency. In short, he looked like he was telling the absolute truth. That he was, in fact, not the filthy rich bastard she took him for.

If that was the case, why did he scorn the money offered after his dance?

“Did you leave your purse at home?” Kassa inquired with a suspicious frown. That must be it.

Something wasn’t right here. It was perplexing, and that irritated her.

“Well, whatever. I’m not broke,” she finally confessed with some effort. Her last service to the public left her with the dowry of some young girl, adding a respectable weight to her coin pouch. She wasn’t drowning in gold herself, but she wasn’t hurting. She rifled in her satchel as a pretty young waitress approached and began to the routine speech on their special deals. Today there was a generous portion of baked chicken or on equally gratuitous filet of salmon, with imported rice, vegetables, and a glass of house wine.

Knowing it was humble work to service at a bar, even a nice one, Kassa politely ordered the salmon and lifted her brows at Len as she produced the few silvers the pair of meals would require. “I’ll pay this time, sweetie, but you are next.”

Promising a swift return, the waitress left after taking both orders. Kassa leaned back and leveled her keen eyes on the Vanguard of Nowhere. “So you’re a street dancer and a Vanguard? That’s confusing to me, I must admit.” A slow smile spread across her features. “So you’re broke and you refused money from people trying to pay you for such entertainment? Sorry for being skeptical, but that makes no sense.”

A pause. “Don’t mean to pry, of course. You’re a mysterious fellow.”

 

[Len Dy't B-taa]

There was an extended pause as she finished her observations. Len remained still, his hands still folded on the table in front of him. What was there that he could possibly say to disprove what she'd already so eloquently laid out before him? The fact of the matter was that Len himself wasn't sure what had brought him here, and he'd never had the gall to tell another soul what little he did remember. Surely he was mad, or at least confused? But no, the more he ruminated on his thoughts, still in shattered chains that struggled to link together once more, the more he knew that his mind was still whole, even though damaged.

The idea that he would be sat across from some woman he'd just met, casually discussing why he had no pocket change on him...

"Heh... Heheheheh...."

One of his hands unfolds from the other, rising to his mask as if to stifle the small chuckle. It was maddeningly amusing, the situation he found himself in. So powerful and wise before death, so fragile and weak-minded when brought back. He would tell her then, just a bit. What did he have to lose? If she didn't believe him, she would just label him a lunatic, would she not? He waves the hand on his mouth, before raising his mask over his lips.

If she'd thought the rest of his skin was unusually pale, it was now obvious that the tone of his body could be considered a tan in comparison to his face. The skin from his neck upwards was as white as porcelain, his features smooth and unblemished, deceivingly youthful. He raised it no further than his nose, however. and he took a deep breath of the air he was usually sheltered from.

"Those I served as Vanguard to are long since dead. I myself am from another time, having been brought back from death against my will, if you can believe it. Perhaps my elaborate introduction is my way of coping with the fact that my previous life has ended...

He purses his lips, allowing a small stream of air to escape them as he runs an armored hand along his head.

"I'm every bit as confused as you are about me, Kassa. I've only been awake a week or two at most. In my confusion, dancing as I once did has helped me feel some semblance of peace. When you found me, struggling for breath against the wall of this Tavern, I was wondering what I'm meant to do now. What is there for me in a world where all that I know has passed?"

He sighs, his hands resting on the table once more. It did admittedly feel somewhat relieving to confide in another. Even if such a tale could contribute to a return to isolation. "I will not blame you if you think me quite mad. I will answer any questions you might have, however." A smile comes to his lips. "Provided we get to eat. You did say you'd treat me, after all."

Kassa Lia

 

[Kassa Lia]

Was he laughing at her? The notion annoyed Kassa, though she refrained from the idea of teaching him a lesson. That would not be wise idea, considering they were in a public tavern. How inconvenient! She was toying with the possibility of simply leaving when he lifted his mask, revealing the stark white of snow-like skin.

The color was indeed shocking, but Kassa’s reaction was not. Instead of leaning back with eyes wide in astonishment, she instead leaned forward, with untroubled eyes, taking in with circumspection his color. As if she had seen much stranger things it before. She straightened as he spoke, running a hand through her hair as he explained his unfortunate lot in a life returned to him unasked.

As he finished speaking, the waitress passed by with complimentary glasses of house wine. As she set down the drinks before them, she stopped, seeing the white of his skin. Fortunately, she chose to say nothing and left quickly. Kassa picked up her drink and sipped it quietly. It was rich, a dark red with complex flavors tinted with raspberries and oak. A fitting drink for the situation she found… oh, so immensely interesting.

“Darling,” she said at last, “If I’m to think you mad, what does that make me?” She laughed. “Even a walking corpse, you’re hardly the strangest thing I’ve seen. So you are victim of… perhaps some kind of necromancy? How interesting,” she breathed, her eyes sparking. She set down the drink, and her fingers drummed against the table in thought.

“It’s so odd,” she murmured. Then, “f I’ve got question, sweetie, I don’t know you’d be able to answer if you’re so confused. Mmm, but what is there for you? A lot of things, I would think. You were brought back for a reason. Gods don’t let just anybody rise from the dead. If I were you, I’d like to know who killed me, who brought you back and why, and what happened to your people.”

The pretty waitress returned with a little book, a quill at the ready. “Can I take your order… um, sir?” she said hesitantly. He eyes flickered back and forth from Kassa to Len. “Your meal will be brought out at the same time, milady. Unless you’d like it sooner?”

“That’s fine.” Kassa smiled pleasantly. “Yes… my treat. Order whatever you like, milord.”

 

[Len Dy't B-taa]

While he didn't express it outwardly, Len was quite grateful for the lack of shock in her ever so curious eyes. The main reason he wore the mask was to avoid attention, but if they were to eat it would need to be removed either way. He did so, sliding it completely off to reveal the rest of his features. His eyes were as white as his skin, save for a black ring around both. His cranium was a bit longer than a human's, brought out by the fact he had nothing in the way of hair.

Perhaps now it was much easier for her to see that conversing with somebody so casually was leaving him with a genuine smile on his lips.

He looks at the serving woman, nodding his head politely and offering a soft word of gratitude as he gripped the glass in an armored hand, bringing the dark liquid to his lips and taking a long sip of it. Alcohol wasn't a privilege he'd been allowed in his life as a warrior. In The Aberrant, wine was a luxury that only the regals had been afforded save for very specific celebrations. He found the taste of it to be almost unpleasantly bitter, but at the same time his mind fluttered at the aroma and flavor. How perplexing.

Licking his lips, he set the half empty glass on the table in front of him and curiously ran a finger along it's rim. He was oblivious to that spark of interest that flickered like an ember in the eyes of the woman across from him. "It must be some form of necromancy, and that's what worries me most. Necromancy is a fickle beast; It never works perfectly, and there is always a price to pay. For all I know, this new life may not last longer than another month. If not less."

He looks up at her with his clear, pearl-like eyes. "Your optimism is appreciated, Kassa. It's almost as if you want to brighten my spirits." The terminology she used to address him were amusing, though he failed to understand if they had any meaning; There were certainly still many new idioms that he had to learn. "Do you believe in such things, Kassa? Fate guiding the people of the living to do it's bidding? Do you believe that those who sought to bring me back did so under the influence of unseen hands?"

He sighs, leaning back and crossing his arms in frustration. "We'll never know the true reason, I suppose. In my initial shock at waking from death, I slew those who revived me." Stopping to look up at the server once more, he merely nodded to Kassa Lia. "Ah... just give me whatever my companion is having, please." He honestly didn't know what there was to choose from, and he was having trouble reading any of the writing in this place.

His eyes meeting Kassa's again, a somber little smile plays at his lips. He almost didn't feel like some sort of crime against nature when she looked at him like that. It was quite comforting... "As for who killed me, that act was performed by me myself."

Kassa Lia

 

[Kassa Lia]

As the waitress bowed and scurried away, Kassa looked on as Len regaled her with what little he knew. Her brows furrowed as he talked of fate and strings pulled by powerful, if intangible, fingers. If there was anything she knew, those fingers belonged to gods amused by the misfortune of the many ants they oversaw. In light of this she had turned to the darker beings, beings who could be bargained with as well as respected. They might not reflect the benevolent image people liked to believe in, but that kindly sort of god didn’t exist anyway.

Perhaps repulsed surprise or shock was expected at Len’s following words regarding his own death and the demise of his revivers, but Kassa’s brilliant green eyes merely blinked lazily. Suicide wasn’t something she supported, but neither did she condemn it. After all, there were many reasons for dispatching oneself. Grief and overwhelming despair was one, yes, but there were other traditions, other customs that demanded death and sacrifice. Ancient systems of honor and merciless redemption, for instance.

She took another sip of her wine before speaking. “How fascinating. So you were revived and immediately tried dancing yourself to death? Let me tell you a fact of life, Len. Every succeeding death gets no better than the first experience. If anything, it gets worse.” Her eyebrows lifted and she smiled in dark amusement. “I highly suggest you avoid it.”

She glanced around. Len’s snowy face and striking eyes had brought the attention of more than a few. There was a table of men nearby who had stared more than was appropriate and were now whispering among themselves with ill-concealed stares and gestures.

She hoped they kept to themselves. Turning her eyes back to Len, she examined him closely. She didn’t call on any magic, but she thought he looked hail enough.

“Well, so far you don’t look quite ready to fall apart just yet. How interesting. Hmm, so you killed yourself? Why, if I may ask?” Kassa leaned back, her hands folding in her lap. “Don’t worry, I’m not one to judge.”

 

[Len Dy't B-taa]

Len closed his eyes, the growing murmurs of those who sat around the two of them wasn't lost on him. He couldn't be angry at them all, suspicious of one meant to be dead. He would be making the same hushed observations were he placed in their shoes. Kassa didn't answer his question, but he didn't need her to say what she thought. Len had once thought the Gods were the reason for all that he did, above all else. Now, they'd forsaken him the same as his King and Country had so long ago.

How much did Len have to give before somebody gave something back? His years in battle in service of his land, victory after bloody victory earned as he stood tall against his enemies... they had seen nothing but the demand of more blood from him. If he wasn't fighting for the ones he called royalty, he was dancing. His life was naught but that of a glorified jester.

He said none of this though, instead taking another sip of the wine he'd so long wanted to taste against his lips. "My dance is my pride. It's my duty, Kassa." He shakes his head, biting his lower lip. "It's what my entire life was dedicated toward. I suppose that, being at a loss as to what I was to do, I fell back onto what I am good at."

He drummed his fingers on the table, their food arriving between sentences. He offers a kind nod to the still speculative waitress as she departs, before continuing somewhat wistfully. "I was actually nervous... dancing for pauper over prince. So used to the royalty cheering on their entertainment..."

He shakes his head, taking one of the utensils and poking curiously at the food placed before him. He felt her eyes on him always, never leaving him. He wasn't sure how to feel about that, but if it meant a bit longer without donning his mask and setting off once more, he would allow it. This was a slice of normalcy. Normalcy that was sorely missing.

"You're right. I have no doubt that death gets no easier. That is why I rose to my feet when you called me to do so, just as I have done for countless men and women before you. I rise when summoned. I've learned now that's more true than I ever realized before."

He began to eat, the flavor of the food wasn't great by today's standards, but Len seemed to be enraptured by it. "Thank you for this meal, Kassa. It's absolutely delicious. I'd no idea land-roamers could do such things." He continued to shovel the food into his mouth hungrily, no longer paying any attention to those who shot him dirty looks. Only when she asked him why he'd ended his first life did he take pause, looking up at her. Sitting up and setting the utensil at his side, he averts his gaze, instead looking at his food.

"You'll have to forgive me. That question is one... I am unsure if I am prepared to answer. We should eat..." He casts a glance towards a particularly rowdy group of men eyeing him from another table. "I'm upsetting the patrons."

Kassa Lia

 

[Kassa Lia]

With every word, Len seemed stranger and stranger. Likewise, Kassa’s interest increased. What sort of world was this, this Fifth Tree and the Aberrant Kingdom, where a Vanguard would dance for nobility? She wanted to ask, but when Len declined to answer her last query, she held back. She wasn’t offended at his refusal to answer, instead smiling in an almost gentle manner.

“Didn’t mean to pry, honey. Sorry if I seemed too nosey.” She glanced at the increasingly loud patrons yonder and shook her head. Lifting her fork, she began to eat. Sooner or later, you’ll answer anyway.

The fish was rather bland, with the vegetables clearly having been frozen and then quickly thawed. Only the rice tasted truly fresh, but at the very least, nothing tasted bad. Used to much worse, Kassa actually appreciated the food even as she silently acknowledged it could be better. In between bites, she glanced at Len as he complimented the meal. Absolutely delicious? Well, she assumed, it was probably his first meal in a while.

“Land-Roamer?” she echoed. “Are you from a floating island or something?” she chuckled.

It was not too long before one of the noisy patrons finally stood up. He was an older man, dressed in silks and rich garments beneath belts that held a pair of long knives at his waist. His hazel eyes were cruel, and filled with disdain as he strolled over to Kassa and Len’s table. He stopped a rather disrespectful distance away and looked down at them from his imposing height.

“What kind of walking corpse are you, mate?” he spat at Len. His voice held a lilting accent not common among the Maraan citizens. His nose scrunched up as if something smelled terrible. “Inhuman animals like you have a lot of nerve infiltrating a place like this.”

Kassa looked up, her eyes darting over the stranger. There was a slight magical aura around him, so faint she could just barely sense it. The man was no spellcaster, no magicker. It was not enough for that. But it was enough that he could tell Len was not entirely natural, and it repulsed him in the way a rabbit was repulsed by the wolf.

 

[Len Dy't B-taa]

Len was well aware of how acutely foreign his recounting must have seemed to her. Were he the type to trust too quickly, and if the memories didn't sting like a fresh wound he would have gladly recounted story after story to her, the entire history of his people still ingrained in his memory. Perhaps, in time, he would have the strength to recount his history with such a free and open cadence. It wasn't time yet, and he wasn't sure if it would ever be. He waves off her concern, "I wouldn't say you're nosey. Anybody would have ponderances when told a story like I've shared today."

Having downed his meal rather quickly, he now leaned back with his arms crossed, watching her as she continued to poke for more information. It wasn't that he minded the questions; He was actually more than happy for the conversation. "Land-Roamer is what we called Humans, for their nomadic tendencies and lack of contentment to remain in a single location. While my home did have the power to change locations, it certainly couldn't fly. Has such a thing been accomplished in this time?" He asked with a raised brow. A floating city... such a thing would be a spectacle to see. He would certainly wish to bear witness to it.

The loud words of accusation rang out through his ears, and his eyes shifted to the side of his aggressor. Armed, but clumsily so, with no real protection on his body. He was growing in age, and his cadence spoke of privilege. The barb of the man's words rested lightly on Len's shoulder. How could he argue the point, when the fellow was technically correct? No, his actions towards Len were perfectly acceptable.

However, he was interrupting the meal of Len's acquaintance.

Reaching down to his mask and shawl, he lifts it from the table, sliding the clay covering back over his face before draping the shawl over his head and shoulders. His voice is slightly more muted and muffled by the mask as he speaks. "I would kindly ask that you step away from Miss Lia while she eats."

He does not wait for the fellow to respond, his head tilting towards the man just a split second before sending his armored elbow flying at the man's gut. Should it hit, the man would likely bend over, allowing Len to grasp his head and throw him to the ground.

Kassa Lia

 

[Kassa Lia]

A city that could not fly, yet change locations. Phasing? A sort of teleportation? Several possibilities ran through Kassa’s mind even as she smiled, silently acknowledging that Len was, indeed, not human. She took another sip of wine, considering. She felt slightly uncomfortable, being the one to ask all the questions, but she had to admit… Len Dy’t B-taa was fascinating. She was about to speak when the noble knifeman approached with his nasty words.

The stranger, one Yosan Elthera, was an experienced fighter despite his fancy clothes and snooty manner. He looked down on those he believed beneath him – peasants, homeless wanderers, women, and men not as rich or privileged as he. Even those he called friends he held with some disdain. Len was no exception to this view, and Yosan didn’t really expect this pale monster to respond the way he did.

Yosan tensed as Len donned mask and hood, but was more ready to reply than to act. Len’s retaliation caught him by surprise, and in moments he was on the ground, eyes wide in shock. He stared up at Len as his face grew red in rage and humiliation. “You… fucking… piece of shit…”

He was on his feet again, drawing both knives. In that moment, his other supposed friends at the table came rushing over, all four of them, armed with an array of knives. One particularly burly man held a spiked mace.

The bartender and servers were already yelling for a cease and desist, but Yosan and his friends completely ignored them. The pretty waitress came rushing forward, braver than most gave her credit for, but was rudely shoved away by the burly mace-wielder.

The four friends surrounded the table as Yosan lunged, sweeping his knives in an experienced, double slash with an intent to teach Len a painful lesson. Killing wasn’t quite on his mind, but the rage in his eyes suggested that could change in an instant.

“Oh, for gods’ sake,” Kassa grumbled as she tossed down her fork.

 

[Len Dy't B-taa]

Len stood over the man in the moments after his meeting with the ground, carefully removing the gauntlets from his armor to expose his bare fists. He had no intention of killing anybody, and the impact of steel against flesh could do damage he did not want to risk inflicting on them. He looks over at Kassa, handing her the pieces of armor. "Please watch these for me, Miss Lia. I shan't be long." He requests of her, with the slight bow of his head.

Of course, Yosan's friends weren't about to wait for him to turn around. They all sprung to Yosan's aid, helping him to his feet so that he could meet his attacker head on. When Len turned, he was faced with a wall of knives, and a rather intimidating mace to boot. The rush that seeing so much steel pointed at him brought was almost nostalgic, the warrior inside of him salivating at the chance for battle.

No, he restrained himself. This was not his war, only a skirmish to defend the one who'd aided him. Not that he thought she particularly needed it.

The man at least had a semblance of honor, choosing to face Len one on one, at least to begin with. As Yosan swept forward with both knives, Len ducked low beneath the attack, squatting almost all the way down to the floor with a surprising show of flexibility. Yosan's swipes missed, and he stumbled forwards a few steps to catch himself. Len rose, his back meeting Yosan's chest, and lifted him up into the air. With a grunt, he dropped the man behind him, putting him through the table Len and Kassa had been eating at.

His friends wasted no time in charging him after that. One by one, his fists met their flesh, punishing them for their arrogance and tossing them aside. By this point, the tavern had cleared out aside from the employees urging for them to leave.

Kassa Lia

 

[Kassa Lia]

Unruffled, Kassa tucked the pieces of discarded armor close to her. She smiled as Len turned to face the scoundrels, her green eyes sparkling with something close to mirth. It wasn’t that she found life and death battles interesting, or the sight of blood or even mild violence exciting. No, it was the nature of the situation that enthralled her with humor; she knew these wannabe bandits stood no chance.

Save for the bartenders, waiters, and waitresses, along with few cooks, remained to witness the fight. All the other patrons were rushing out, not wanting to get caught up in the fight. Kassa could already see a rough motley of city guards outside the tavern windows, but it was already too late to stop Len from pouncing on Yosan.

With a loud snap, the table cracked in half as Yosan was sent straight through the center. Food and drink crashed to the floor, scattering half-finished bits of dinner everywhere as wine spilled over. Kassa stood up swiftly to avoid ruining her clothes from easy stains as Len exacted just vengeance on Yosan’s friends.

The friends were, amusingly, hardier that Yosan. They came from rougher backgrounds, from working the docks or running with gangs. They knew their way with the knife. But none of them carried a sword, or danced with the grace Len displayed even now. They were fast, but not as nimble or swift as the Vanguard. They were smart, but not as intelligent or sharp in battle as the Servant of the Fifth Tree.

Thud. One man went down and cowered beside Yosan.

Thud. A second lay on the ground, dazed.

Thud. A third reeled. He turned and ran.

“Darling –” Kassa began.

SMACK

A short, sharp cry cut from her lips as the man with the mace slammed the back of his hand against her face. Kassa fell to the ground, a bloody bruise forming on her cheek as Mace gripped his namesake with both hands and sneered at Len.

“After you die, I’m raping your whore.”

He clenched the mace tight, then swung it at Len’s head without further ado. There wasn’t any uncertainty here; the man meant to kill.

 

[Len Dy't B-taa]

This. This was where Len was at home. Not idly dining in a tavern chatting up a pretty looking Land-Roamer, as relaxing as that had been. No, Len belonged in the heat of the moment, with his well being placed on the line. It was how he had lived for his entire life, and the rush that it granted him made him feel more alive than any magic every could. The ones who'd backed up his first opponent all rushed him at once, brandishing knives, menacing intent, and hardy bodies brought about from years of labor.

So Len danced.

Just as he had out in the hot streets, putting his soul on display for any who would look his way, Len weaved and swayed his body around their reckless swipes and ferocious swings as though they were unseen obstacles for him to maneuver around him. The music played in his head once more, the same that had when he danced for the Kings and Queens, the same that had when he led forces into battle.

Fierce drumbeats in his mind, thumping in time with the impact of his elbows and knees into the ribs and heads of the unlucky who'd crossed him. He didn't pay attention to which ones he struck where; It didn't matter so long as they all went down. And they would, for to fail would make him less of a man. To be less of a man would mean losing his honor, and he would sooner die. The sickening sound of flesh against flesh would break him out of his trance, causing him to turn from the huddled bodies squirming in pain on the ground before him and face his final aggressor.

The man with the mace stood menacingly over Kassa, boring a hole into Len with a gaze of fire. Behind the man, he saw guards beginning to arrive. He could stall, wait for them to arrive and restrain the man. That would be the peaceful option. It was an option he would have considered if the fool hadn't spoken ill of the only woman who'd shown Len any hint of affection or compassion in a generation. His blood boiled at the idea of being defeated by such a brute, and his bones seemed to crack as he flexed his entire body in preparation.

He charged, but the mace wielder was sharper than his brethren despite his looks. He caught the smaller man, lifting his armored form up into the air and dropping him over his shoulders in some crude back-breaker. A sharp hiss came from behind the mask, the plating of his armor made the maneuver all the more painful due to it's lack of mobility in the chest region.

The sheer weight of his armor offered him a reprieve, however. After being racked on the man's shoulders, his weight carried him the rest of the way, to the floor. 'Mace' hadn't been able to hold on without a solid grip on the smooth metal of his suit. Len fell to the ground with a crash, but it took no time for him to spin around and deliver a heavy kick to the man's calf from behind, dropping him to one knee. Len sprang to his feet, mounting the large fellow's back and knocking him out with a blow to the back of his head from his armored forearm.

He toppled, and Len stood victorious. There was no joy in this victory though; He'd been injured, and Kassa had been stuck. Failing to protect that whom he served was unnacceptable.

Immediately, Kassa would be helped to her feet by a concerned Len, seemingly paying no attention to the arriving guards. "Are you alright, Miss Lia? I am sorry you were caught up in this. We should leave at once, before you get into more trouble."
Despite his own condition, his only concern was with her.

Kassa Lia

 

[Kassa Lia]

With the clanking of steel and creaking of boiled leather, the local town guards poured into the bar. They were greeted by the grisly sight of a wrecked table, toppled chairs and the prone bodies of four men. One of them had tried fleeing, only to be caught by the barkeeper, a former adventurer who now stood over the coward with an old but sharp sword drawn. Scowling, the barkeeper intercepted the captain of the guard with angry words. Apparently, this was not the first time Yosan and his goons had caused trouble… but it would be the last.

Kassa allowed herself to be helped up. Alongside a battered Len, her bruised face and rumpled clothes made them look like clear victims. Yet Kassa composed herself calmly, looking only slightly annoyed as she brushed her clothes clean of debris. She noted with a small tsk a bit of wine that had stained the hem of her cloak before looking to the guard that had approached, dressed in cleric garb.

“Do you require medical assistance?” the guard asked. “I am a healer, if there is need.”

“I’ll be fine,” Kassa replied serenely. She looked to Len. “Are you, Len?”

The sun had begun its long descent, and though it was usually open at all hours, the bar was closed for the rest of the night. Yosan and his friends were led away to spend a few hours in a prison cell. Former patrons grumbled and roamed the streets with some heading home while others sought refreshment by the docks or began browsing unaffected stores nearby. As for the Vanguard and Kassa, With Len’s urging, it was not long for them to find themselves among the evacuated citizens.

“Well, that was a disappointment,” Kassa huffed as she stood under the shade of the building. The setting sun cast long shadows of the ground, and the unbearable heat had cooled to a more pleasant temperature. “So much for dinner,” she said idly before looking to her dinner partner.

Kassa glanced Len over and frowned up at him. “Now, what did you say then? Before I get into more trouble?” She paused. Suddenly, she laughed, a pleasant tinkling sound. “Darling, I was just trying to enjoy my meal. I think it’s time for another question – does trouble follow you everywhere?” she smiled. “Also… it’s not ‘Miss Lia.’ It’s Kassa, sweetheart.”

 

[Len Dy't B-taa]

He only gave the guard in medical garb a shake of his head. His injury was minor, and the pain that now came from it would serve to remind him of his failure until it healed. That was the purpose of a wound, or so he'd been taught to believe. What become of Yosan and the others wasn't of particular interest to him; Kassa was unharmed, so he had been successful. The armored figure took one more quick bow to the guards who had stepped in to take control of things, and briskly he turned on his iron heel, pushing past yet another guard gently as he exited.

It was just the way Len processed things. He lived to serve and entertain, and in that moment he'd been serving Kassa Lia. That was the beginning and end of it. Living in terms of servitude certainly wasn't a healthy behavior, but it was one that Len had been raised on. As they stepped back out onto the street, the sun was setting behind the horizon and giving the entire town a cool orange hue. The masked fellow seemed to stop in mid-stride to admire the sunset. Of all the things he'd missed of life, he believed the sunset to be among the top of that list.

His admiration was interrupted by a rather disgruntled Kassa dusting herself off at his side, and he turned to face her. She was a bit dusty, and there was a stain on her outfit, but she looked no worse for wear. He nods in reply to her assessment at that poor attempt at a dinner, and calmly begins to slide his gauntlets back on over his hands. "Yes. I must apologize for attracting ire. I should have kept the mask on, such trouble is why I have it in the first place..." Were I to not hide myself, such antics likely would follow me, as you say." He'd known damn well that his appearance would likely draw attention. Why had he sought to remove it? Some subconscious attempt to bond with the person who was treating him? He snorted at the idea, sliding the sash off of his head and tying it over his shoulder, tightening it down over where the armor had been struck. "It looks like, Kassa, the sun is setting on our time together. I assume you'll be off on your own devices as of tonight? I thank you for the assist today, but I shouldn't trouble you further."

If he was being honest, the thought of being alone in this city again wasn't ideal. He was in a far better mindset than he had been this morning though. He would survive.

Kassa Lia

 

[Kassa Lia]

Leaning back on one foot, Kassa crossed her arms and looked at Len for a long, silent moment. Her fine eyebrows furrowed as unspoken thoughts flitted through her mind. A finger lifted to her lips then as they curled upward in a slight smile. “You know, Len, I remember something. You asked me something back in the tavern, if I believed in…

“… Fate guiding the people of the living to do its bidding,” she quoted. She tilted her head at the displaced Vanguard and shrugged. “I didn’t answer then because I simply wasn’t sure. I believe in gods, or at least beings close to gods. Not exactly benevolent powers, of course, but powers nonetheless. But fate? And fate having a wish for us to do something to benefit a means to an end?”

Kassa leaned against the building, untying a small cask from her belt and taking a sip of the water inside. “Now I don’t know about you, dear, but I go to places for a reason. Maybe I know the reason, maybe I don’t, but I don’t just wander aimlessly. Of all the people I could have run into, I meet you. At this exact time, at this exact place. You, who have such an interesting story.”

She fastened the water cask back in its place and checked her satchel, making sure everything was secure. Despite the chaos in the tavern, everything was safe and relatively in one piece. “I’m not worried by trouble, Len, so don’t bother thinking about that.” She paused. Then, “Today, I don’t think we were just thrown together by chance, just for us to have us part like this later. I was drawn here for a reason, and I think I’ve found it. Well, look at that,” she laughed. “Maybe I do believe in fate… at least for now.

“I don’t know where you intend to go, Vanguard, but let me tag along for a bit. I can cook and fend for myself, so you needn’t worry about me. All I know is, I’d like to see where this particular road leads.”

 

[Len Dy't B-taa]

Len offered no words to her as she spoke. His head only tilted as she sipped from her cask and watched him. His mind though, was working at a furious pace. Why would she wish to put herself at risk to follow him? What possible positive outcome could she see in associating with a being who was for all intents not supposed to be alive? Perhaps the biggest question of all though, was why the idea appealed to him?

He didn't need to think long to answer that one.

He'd been alone for such a long time, that his mind naturally felt an attraction to the idea of any companionship. Sure, he'd only truly been awake for a number of days, but he felt every year of death weighing on his mind. He was far too accustomed to serving, and he'd panicked at the prospect of being alone. It was a weakness, but a weakness you were aware of was manageable.

"You flatter me with your words, Kassa. I admit finding you equally interesting, if maybe for different reasons." He admits, dropping to squat low over the ground before extending an arm forward, and swinging a leg behind him to balance on one bent knee. It was important to ensure one was limber before a long journey, and he set about contorting his frame into several increasingly complex positions. Finally, as he stood upright on one leg with his other outstretched totally to the side, he continued to speak. "I'm unsure if I hold the same faith in the supposed strings that move us all. I would normally argue that such a mundane meeting as a woman checking to see if a pale body in the sun is deceased or not is by no means fateful, however..."

He dropped back to both feet, taking a deep breath before his armored visage began to approach her. "If it is fate that brought me back, then perhaps it is fate that brought me to you. Following that logic, perhaps it is you who holds what I truly seek. That being the case, it would be wise of me to remain by your side as long as you will permit me to, Kassa."

Kassa Lia

 

[Kassa Lia]

No stranger to stretching exercises, Kassa still watched Len with some amount of grudging admiration. It wasn’t that she was inflexible herself – quite the opposite in fact – but she couldn’t come close to performing some of the contortions he seemed to take with ease. Half of them actually looked painful, if not impossible.

How fascinating. She smiled as he balanced one leg with enviable form as she did a few stretches herself, releasing muscles tense from the little scuffle in the bar. She wasn’t a fighter like Len, though; an extension of arms and legs, a twisting to both sides, and that was it.

She eyed him as he moved closer and subtly slid back a pace. He’d proved awfully friendly thus far, but she still couldn’t take any chances. She had made such mistakes before and knew better than to fall for the fool’s game again. Still, her smile widened as he suggested, in succulent words, that perhaps the real key to all this was her. Doubtful, but…

“Wouldn’t that be something?” she chuckled. “For now, let’s keep it simple. You’re the hero and I’m your cook. For now, let’s find another inn for the night. We can go in the morning... where are we going?” She frowned. It had better not be another jaunt in the Undercity.

That last task took a bit of a walk to the better side of town, where aspiring criminals were rare to show. The Squalling Tide, a clean and respectable hotel, was meant for wealthier folk and Kassa frowned at the price for two rooms. It looked like she was paying again. That was fine, she wasn’t poor… but she wasn’t rolling in money either. She glanced at Len to see if he minded as she booked one suite and ordered up two baths.

“You’re paying me back, darling,” she said as they headed upstairs, key in hand. She glanced at him. “Make sure to scrub well. You stink.”

 

[Len Dy't B-taa]

Len's flexibility came from quite literally a lifetime of training; he didn't fault Kassa for her simpler movements. She wasn't adept in combat, or at least he didn't think she was. There was no reason for her to strain her body unnecessarily. In his eyes she was in all the shape she needed to be in. His approach certainly hadn't been with intent to make her uncomfortable, but when she backs away, he nods in apology before raising a hand as if gesturing for her to lead.

He'd meant what he said to her, although he understood the confusion it might have caused. To be called a hero though... that made his head whip to the side to look at her as they walked. "I'm no hero." He stated bluntly, one of his hands raising to run along the armor on his chest, and then to the place it had been cut during the fight. "I'm just a soldier. I've killed men who didn't deserve it because I was ordered to. I've burned buildings that families expected to come home to, in the name of those who I served." His low rumbling words were said with no pride. There was a solemnity to them, in fact.

"I would... like to try and find The Seven Trees. It's where my home was built, and it's where I spent my Illya. I suppose you could consider an Illya to be like... a coming of age, becoming an adult?" He explained, quieting down as they entered the upscale place. Len made the same observation as she did regarding it's price; It was a bit above what she should be paying for his sake.

He followed her up the stairs, noticing the gazes of those in the lobby as a young lady seemed to hurry away into a room with an armored hulk of a man. Curious creatures, were these Land-Roamers.

The suite itself was quite large, much bigger than any room he'd bunked in during his time on Arethil past or present. He had to take a moment to drink it all in, which might have seemed silly considering it was only a mildly upscale hotel room. He reached up and removed his mask, much more comfortable with the action in the presence of only Kassa. "I apologize. This armor doesn't do so well in terms of letting my skin breathe. Where is the bath?"

Kassa Lia