Open Chronicles Here Be Dragons

[Rob Yew]

In the ruins of the Builders lay the great market of Tirnua. Galen moved through the peoples of a thousand different tribes as he struggled to reach a simple tent set off from the main market that lay in the shadow of a cracked tower. A human in this place was an odd sight, so he kept his hood low and trudged on.

The sun stood high in the sky and blazed down upon the surface of Tirnua, reminding Galen of the scorching desert of Amol-Kalit. Upon entering the tent, he felt a sudden coolness and closed his eyes, savoring the absence of the sun's heat.

He was not alone.

Several mercenaries stood, sat, leaned, or lay in the rear of the tent. All varying degrees of merciless killers. One had four arms and he was the only one that mattered.

"Hanuman," Galen said, removing his hood to get a better look at the warchief, "where is the third?"

 

[Hanuman]

The Kha'tari lounged on a mound of cushions and rugs, his several limbs outstretched comfortably. Hanuman regarded the man thing with his dread eyes and his features twisted up in distaste. The Warbringer lifted his favored left posterior arm and cut through the air towards a scaled biped that sat nearby and barked a command in a guttural tongue to it. The creature rose, its head low and gaze obediently trained on the ground, and fearfully backed away and out of sight.

"Sit," Hanuman said flatly to Galen.

After a long while, Hanuman's chest rose and fell to accompany a deep sigh. "Must you breathe so loud? Be patient and rest your legs."

 

[Rob Yew]

"Breathe so...?"

Galen frowned.

"Oh. Uh. Sure."

The young half-elf took a seat on a nearby cushion and stared at the burly warchief.

"I'm surprised you're here, to be honest. Or leading mercenaries at all. You don't seem the kind to be motivated by money."

 

[Hanuman]

A moment of silence. Two moments. Three.

Hanuman lifted his back off of the cushions and leaned forward, his four red eyes taking in every detail of the half-breed next to him.

"Then what do you think motivates me?"

 

[Gryphtaur]

In a rear corner of the encampment was a humanoid beast standing not too much taller than a normal man. With an amalgamation of feline and raptorial attributes, one would denote it was a Griffin of sorts. Tharraleos was the name of this individual. Hailing from the shape-shifting sub-species of the heraldic hybrids designated the Metallaxi, this particular battle hunter was currently in his Suppressed Form. He wasn't particularly the only entity either. Currently on standby within his being exists a semi-sentient essence of Pride awaiting its next hubristic morsel.

Hearing word of this mercenary job was only natural for the bird cat. These circumstances were rather customary as he was born and bred within a similar environment. The opportunity to apply his near millenia of meticulous endeavors was always welcomed. It had been decades since his inhibitors were even relinquished and the quadruped titan of his Rampant Form had been unleashed. He had reached a plateau in strength it would seem and could only retain his condition from this point.

Tharr had been in the tent for a fair amount of time and opted to be a silent observer for now. He was leaning against a wall with arms crossed over the tuft of russet pelage along his chest and the pads of a pawed foot against the area behind him. His white feathered noggin made fleeting adjustments with golden irises remained on high alert and ears twitching randomly. A lengthy furred tail swayed about, flicking the rectrices attached at the end every now and then. With his array of enhanced senses, Tharr surveyed the various sights, sounds and vibrations in the air to make a series of observational deductions. He couldn't help but feel the call to action would be soon and the potential thrill of battle ran through his mind.

 

[Klaus]

The third finally entered the tent. She gripped a turkey leg in one hand and chomped into the flesh. She tore a chunk of meat off the bone and proceeded to loudly chew her meal as the tendons crunched in her mouth.

Her eyes panned across the tent to see its occupants. As she chewed, her cheeks were raised as if attempting to smile.

Upon swallowing the bite, her eyes fell upon Galen, apparently having permission to sit near Hanuman, and she asked, "Did the mage get promoted?"

Gryphtaur

 

[Rob Yew]

“Seriously? Uh, killing things…”

Galen squinted at Hanuman, wondering if the murderous four armed fellow expected a different, more insightful answer.

Another figure entered the tent and Galen turned to look her up and down.

For some reason, he felt a pang of nostalgia for the Thronebreakers.

“Can employers get promoted?”

 

[Hanuman]

His gaze set on the wizard, Hanuman slowly reclined into the cushions, his shoulders sinking deeply into the mound. Curiously enough, the warmonger hadn't blinked once since Galen arrived.

Hanuman didn't take his eyes off of the half-breed until Kijaya spoke. The first thing he noticed was turkey juice dripping from her chin.

"O Killer of Killers," he fondly regarded the beastess, "how dishonorable it would be were I to leave a guest standing."

His gaze turned back to Galen.

"The third has arrived. Are we to be off, then?"

 

[Gryphtaur]

As Tharraleos continued his reconnaissance, a particular trio had caught his attention the most. The gray skinned one with four arms already had an intense presence he took note of right away. The humanoid reeked of magic and the female that accompanied them shortly after certainly made an entrance. While diverting his eyes elsewhere, his ears honed their acute sense of hearing in their direction for a short while. His presumptions appeared to be accurate and his beak couldn't help but bend into a subtle grin as his anticipation grew.

 

[Klaus]

After hearing both Galen and Hanuman, Kijaya's eyes widened as she focused her gaze on the mage.

"Hmmmmmm."

Her grin widened to show teethe.

"Who will we be killing, employer?" she asked just before she licked the turkey grease near her mouth.

 

[Rob Yew]

Galen shrugged at the two four-armed maniacs. "Not sure yet, that all depends on what Thargretis wants."

He referred, of course, not to the city itself, but of the dragon priests who held sway over it. Sticks and stones did not hire mercenary companies, nor consort with warlocks. Gold and silver though, now that was another story.

The former Elbion apprentice turned his gaze toward the birdman in the back of the tent, then he glanced back at Hanuman.

"One of yours?"

 

[Hanuman]

Hanuman twisted his head and set his two right eyes on the feathered one. He was not one to remember every face and soul that followed him or not.

"You," the Kha'atari bellowed at Gryphtaur, and the tent fell deathly quiet. "Bird. Come here."

 

[Gryphtaur]

Tharraleos winced as the Warcheif's explosive vocal cords silenced the entire area. His auditory receptors were pinpointed in that direction, so it was basically as if his ears were yelled into directly. Any mild discomfort he experienced was instantly overlooked as he noticed he was the one being called on. He diverted his piercing, unyielding golden orbs to Hunuman's and this is when he felt the pressure of this individual to its fullest extent. This meeting of the eyes lasted only a few mere seconds, but the clash in intensity as Tharr never waned made it appear like numerous minutes.

The dark brown feathered flight bearers protruding from his shoulder blades pushed him away from the wall before folding along him similarly to a cape of sorts. His arms returned to his sides as he began to make his approach. His gait was astute and standing tall with the digittrade nature of his pawed feet. His rigid gaze never ceased as the remainder of the gap was closed.

"Tharraleos; Knight of Vainglory. Primed and ready to decimate your enemies." Declared the hybrid with gusto as he placed on arm along his waist behind him and the other across his chest. The inherent ferocity of his words wasn't as booming as that of the four armed brute, but there was an heir of sophistication. His choice of vernacular was a stark contrast to his beastly exterior and one may think him to be a bookworm if going by verbal cues alone. Which in truth wasn't entirely inaccurate. He did fancy some compelling literature as much as he enjoyed a good skirmish after all.

 

[Klaus]

Kijaya watched everyone speak with that stupid grin. She said nothing, gave no silly comment. But once Galen forced attention upon Tharraleos, Kijaya’s eyes focused on the bird.

She brought the turkey leg back to her mouth and took a bite.

And just stared at the bird as she chewed with wide eyes.

 

[Rob Yew]

Both eyebrows on the half-elf shot up as the bird-thing spoke. Not just spoke. Spoke in a full sentence. Used the word decimate.

"Huh."

Galen smiled, "I like the sound of that, Tharraleos. Well, I think we might be running a little late for the meeting. The Archprophet of Thargretis sent an agent and said to meet at the western tower. Let's go."

 

[Hanuman]

"Huh," Hanuman said in unison with Galen.

Then, the behemoth stood and pulled his fine robes up over his shoulders, which had fallen loose from lounging.

"After you," he rumbled to Galen and turned his attention to Therraleos. "There will be many enemies to slay. Come, winged knight, for we should sate your bloodthirst."

That is, only if Kijaya did not kill them all first.

 

[Gryphtaur]

The Griffin nodded firmly at Galen, returning to a more casual stance, though still upright and proper.

"They will crumble with haste beneath my might." Affirmed Tharraleos as he turned his head to the Warcheif; his otherwise stoic visage beginning to crack from hubris. Imagining his foes being crushed under his strength and the subsequent victories was a rather pleasant thought for him. The warrior did seem a bit full of himself and whether this was validated or not was yet to be determined.

This display of vanity was enough for the essence within his being to have a light snack. The gold of Tharr's irises flashed a vibrant purple momentarily. Occurring a few times and almost reminiscent of a heartbeat, this was the sinful construct briefly revealing itself. Though his acquaintances may likely believe it was just some random thing. Each instance in truth stores a reserve of energy that dissipates after a while if not utilized. These are used to forge weapons from his own personal armory for a variety of situational advantages.

 

[Klaus]

Kijaya took the last bit of meat off the turkey legbone. .

“Let’s go,” Kijaya said as she exited the tent and tossed the bone aside.

She would follow Galen with the rest of the gang. Since they had plans to go on a rampage later, she did not pick random fights this time.