Private Tales Prowling Wolves

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Harry

Washed Up
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Character Biography
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Near the Cortosi Coast
The Academy

Hal often made a conscious effort to push his memories of the Academy far from his mind. The last time he'd stepped foot within the stone walls that surrounded the many villas and the Academy itself, he had just returned from killing one of his closest friends atop the Tower. Since then, the boy had seen far more of the world than he ever had before and in doing so became assured of his own strength.

However, his self-assurance felt all but real the moment the Academy came into view. It shattered like a weak illusionist's trick. Once more, he felt like the timid boy from nearly a year ago. Fear struck him as if at any moment a Proctor would administer a beating- or discipline- as they liked to call it. Selene had taught him stoicism well, and he only allowed those weak emotions to swell under his cold exterior.

The circumstances that brought Hal back to his former home could be considered abnormal. It was rare that graduated Apprentices were called back to the Academy for a mission simply due to the fact that after graduation, apprentices were often tasked directly by their mentors. Selene had been rather annoyed by the whole thing.

It was an overcast day. The clouds always seemed to block out the sun at the Academy, though perhaps he was just imagining that. Hal strode across the Academy's central courtyard, which was often used as sparring grounds, ignoring the several sets of eyes that belonged to younger apprentices that have yet to graduate. Waiting for Hal was Ademar Acero and Master Felwin, a Proctor that had previously been of the Second level. He was a bitter, cruel Proctor that was often indiscriminate in doling out his cruelty among the apprentices. Though, Talus had often been the victim of particularly harsh punishment from this Proctor.

"Good," Felwin said as Hal came within earshot, "I want to waste no time over this."

Hal looked to Ademar as Felwin turned and entered through the Academy's main entrance. He cast his fellow apprentice a curt nod. The pair followed Felwin in.

"I will be blunt. A large group of apprentices from one of the younger classes escaped two weeks ago. Four, two be exact." Four was indeed a large group, as escapees were either single apprentices or a pair. A group of four could be lethal, indeed. That much was proven when Hal, Talus, Sierra, and their former friend Luther Urahil killed half of their class during a training exercise in the Falwood. "Originally, we sent a group of four from the same class to capture the runaways, though they did not return and were found dead by the second group that we sent. The second group was taken from the class closest to graduation- the class under yours, Ademar. The second group numbered five, and they have not been heard from in over a week."

He suddenly stopped in the main hall and turned to the two trailing him.

"Your task is to locate the group of five that we sent in pursuit of the runaways. If found, assist them in the completion of the mission. However, precedence falls to completing the mission, not to finding the group tracking the runaways. It is preferable that the runaways are brought back alive to be made an example of, though their heads alone will suffice. It is mere conjecture, but we believe that they are being aided by an unknown party." He glanced between the two apprentices. "Their trail runs cold in the town of Manhay. That is where you two will go. It is a two days ride- you had better leave immediately."

With that, he strode between Hal and Ademar to return to his post in the courtyard.
 
The academy shaped him, molded him. He was one of the strongest, in terms of physical strength, and tallest apprentice they’ve ever trained. He had limited memories of what his life was before being brought to this house of torments, and could remember he was a kind boy with a soft heart. That was stripped away and made the absolute reciprocal of that boy, although he was kind to his allies and friends he could trust amongst their ranks. A small circle of trusted friends and allies.

He stood stoic at the side of the Proctor, a man Ademar easily bested in height and other physical traits. Magic, not so much. Apprentices would make quick glances at Ademar, sometimes mistaking him for a Dreadlord of the third or second level. Infamous was Felwin, although just a small gauge of magic within Ademar and could cause damage with a punch to his head. Tempting it was, holding not so much fear when close to the Proctor. A small victory that would be short lived if he ventured in that avenue.

Hal arrived and Ademar gave the man a nod before Felwin debriefed them on the mission at hand. All Felwin had to say was the word Runaways and Ademar already knew what was at task. A small smirk on his lips that faded away as quickly as it was made. More information came that a party had already sent out some time ago and has not made any word of contact, nor even sending a raven. A class below his as Ademar graduated not too recently, just shortly after their conquest on Coraliv and saving the city of Vel Ciruk from a siege of werewolves.

They were debriefed and the two men were left alone as Felwin walked away.

“I believe Proctor Felwin already has supplies and horses, one of the fastest, ready for us, Hal. If there’s something else you’d like to bring, we must hurry.”

He already had his selection of weapons and personal effects ready. Already did when he was summoned for the mission.
 
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“How generous of him,” He remarked. His hand nonchalantly fell to the two-handed saber at his side. Hal often traveled with a light load. As his mastery over his magic grew, he found other tools less and less necessary.

Hal’s physical strength had been second to none in his class. While standing taller than the average man, he had been on the shorter end of his own batch of apprentices. Despite that, the boy possessed an explosive musculature that he used wittingly. Though, looking up at the physical marvel that was Ademar, he felt like nothing.

In fact, he’d heard from Talus how the hulking apprentice had smashed through a wall that had proved to be vital in their victory at Coraliv. Other than that, he had little knowledge over the apprentice’s capabilities. Ademar seemed the type to be oblivious to rumors and the likes, so Hal did not entertain the thought that his counterpart was aware of his skill in wielding ice magic.

“To the stables, then.”

Hal’s class, surprisingly, never had a runaway. Instead, they were often tasked with hunting the younger ones. Children aged ten, eleven. Sometimes younger.

Briefly, he thought of Sierra and the child that grew within her.

Those thoughts ceased as they arrived at the stables. Indeed, horses were prepared for them. Strong beasts. Hanging from the saddles were provisions that would be more than adequate for their task.

“Shall we be off?”
 
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A claymore sword was sheathed and strapped on his back, and waiting for him would be a two handed war hammer. At this level in his training before being recognized as a Dreadlord he should rely less on weapons and physical tools, and hone his magic more. Even his body was a literal weapon as his skin could harden and become a walking battering ram; his could strengthen like steel and parry physical without suffering a wound. One time his training, in his earlier days, went to the extremes when the proctors discovered exactly what his magic was. It went to degrees where they swung actual swords at his neck and head, and expected him to counter it by enhancing those areas of his body. The results were shattered steel from the blades.

“Let’s kill some runaway scum, a shame they’re not children,” he replied to Hal with enthusiasm in his voice considering how dark it would ironically sound. Was it wrong to have such thoughts? To people that weren’t like them, yes. But to him? He felt cheated out. Him and his fellow compatriots suffered years and years of unforgiving training regimens, and to think they’d allow others to run away and not be punished? That made his guts to boil with anger.

A pack for them to carry was ready and pouches straddled to the horses was filled with supplies, and even for sleeping if they needed to.

“No time to waste, Hal,” and mounted himself on his horse, his steed shifting around to adjust to his weight. Once Hal would mount on his horse, the two would ride out on the highway for Manhay. A place he never stepped foot in.
 
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"What merit is there in the killing of children?" Hal dryly responded as he looked over the supplies prepared for him. He patted his mount and rubbed on its neck.

No time to waste, Hal.

Never was Ademar one to idle. Hal respected that. Too often did others linger about when there was a task to accomplish. Though, hastiness could often result in a short-sighted approach to a situation. Hal sought a balance. To be adequately thorough in all things. He hoped it wouldn't create conflict between him and Ademar. He was sure that Ademar would agree that every minute wasted just created more distance for the odd pair to cover. In this instance, the icy apprentice shared the hulking apprentice's sense of urgency.

"Yes," He said and, with a soft grunt, pulled himself onto his steed. "To Manhay, then."

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Hal and Ademar rested only when necessary. The pair arrived to Manhay nearly half a day ahead of the estimation given by Master Felwin. It was a walled town where caravans oft frequented. It was ripe with trade, from merchants hustling jewelry, clothes, and the likes to farmers peddling the products of their labor.

Hal brought his steed to a trot as they approached the town's gates.

"We should seek the bailiff for any preliminary information. Should that not be enough, then perhaps we attempt to gather information from inns and taverns closest to the town's entrances. What say you, Ademar?"
 
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With little rests in their travels and at optimum speed on their steeds, they arrived half a day to Manhay as opposed to two full days. The town seemed to be a healthy one from his observation due to the steady streamline of merchants with their caravans. Thankfully it wasn’t a village as they tend to have a more...conservative mindset. It was no secret that settlements with low populations tend to dislike the military hegemony of Vel Anir; however, with towns and other places with a more dense population they were more accepting, especially when they were living a decent life.

“Aye,” agreeing with his companion and throwing a cloak at Hal. “You know the drill.” The cloaks were meant to hide their armor, so to not give away their lethal profession and cause rumors to run about. When people start talking that would alarm their prey.

Once entering the gates Ademar dismounted from his horse, leading the beast by the reins to where the bailiff’s office was. Leaving it at the stable and Hal in tow, they’d enter the relatively small building.

With a closed fist he hammer punched the wall beside him which shook the building to get the attention of the bailiff who was not present at the front.
 
Hal nonchalantly caught the cloak tossed to him by his oversized companion. Whether it be in armor, finery, or his tried and trusted gambeson, Hal would stand out no matter what. The boy possessed an array of scars. While prominent months ago, the web of lightning-like scars had faded from the side of his face, though they still covered a majority of his chest. Those would never fade. It would be an eternal reminder of the friend he killed.

"Good call."

He struggled to throw the cloak over his shoulders for a moment. Riding a horse and trying to put on an extra article of clothing was not something he trained for.

Hal followed Ademar, though he stayed mounted. Instinctively, he scanned the surroundings. Row of buildings. Inns. Brothels. Other sorts of establishments. He was quite surprised at the size of the walled town.

After hitching his own horse in the stables, he followed Ademar and arrived indoors the moment after the taller lad banged the wall.

The bailiff soon presented himself. He cleared his throat after giving both boys a once-over.

"How may I," His voice trailed for a moment. He had to get a better look at Ademar, as if to verify that the young man was actually that large. He was, in fact, quite large. "...help you?"
 
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“You can be much of an assistance with these questions we have, bailiff,” the lad spoke, skipping through the pleasantries as that was a waste of time and his tone belonging to authority. He had a mission to accomplish along with Hal. Dreadlords weren’t exactly...creatures that socialized with everyone. They didn’t ask how was their day or make obvious comments regarding the weather.

Not skipping a beat and not allowing the bailiff to inhale a breath to speak, Ademar continued, “We are looking for missing children, they are in groups. Two groups to be precise, have you perhaps seen some elements of that running around Manhay?”

“Well, there’s plenty of children here, mis-“

“Don’t prance around my question and like a fool,” that was harsh and probably would incite unlikable relations between them if they were to cooperate further. “Children that don’t belong in these parts, outsiders. Have you seen anything that describes that?”
 
The bailiff couldn’t find the words to respond to Ademar’s blunt manner of speaking. He was visibly unnerved. Hal took it as an opportunity and interjected.

“You have an understanding of what we are, then?” His brows furrowed and cold eyes pierced the bailiff, “Others came before us looking for the same thing.”

The apprentice folded his arms across his chest.

“You will not want to withhold any information.”

The man was quick to crack, and said that he’d sent the previous group to an inn on the far side of Manhay. It was where the runaways were last seen in the city, and it was believed that the Underground used the inn as a base of sorts. Since Manhay was so close to the Academy, it made sense that the Underground would dig its treasonous claws into the city.

Hal spared a glance to Ademar and nodded. He turned his attention back to the bailiff.

“Even if you are being honest, if this information is faulty, you can consider your life to be over.”

And with that, the pair left. They mounted their horses and made their way to the inn.

“We’re far too old to be runaways. If the Underground operates through the inn, we’ll identify any of those traitors and immediately move to apprehend them. I’d like to take at least some alive for questioning.”
 
“He didn’t have a spine, I wouldn’t be surprised if the city has crime in every corner because of him,” Ademar commented at Hal in regards to the bailiff. The man cracked without having to be pressured that much, and gave them information that would be proven to see if it was true or misleading. The city was wide and near the Academy, plenty of alleyways and districts to hide in. Enough time and anyone could blend in with the populous.

Interesting enough the infamous Underground was rumored to operate in Manhay, probably a checkpoint for runaways in order resupply them and offer warm shelter.

Two birds in one stone if they were to be successful here.

“There are...ways in which we could get our information,” cruel methods that is. They were civilians of Vel Anir, but Ademar gave little care for them. When did they ever stopped and think about the Dreadlords who face harsh conditions at an early age? The people enjoyed having them as mighty protection from any threat the Anirians could face.

“The people may be compromised as well, Hal, if the Underground has been here for too long. We must be cautious, we can only trust in each other.”

Nearing the inn there were people across the street who looked as if being vigilant on the inn, eyes focusing on the giant of Ademar. The lad didn’t notice of that as he didn’t pay much attention to his surroundings.

“I wonder if their ale is any good, ever had ale before? A bit bitter, but it’s mighty good.”

Recently he had an exciting adventure with Talus in discovering the many mysteries and oddities of life, ale being one of them.
 
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“Even ones with spines would crack in the face of our kind,” he chuckled, “he was spineless, though.”

As they walked through the streets, Hal cast quick glances all around, studying their surroundings. As far as he was concerned, they were being watched. Everyone was a potential enemy. He learned many things from Selene, sensibility of his surroundings and thoughtfulness sat high up on a long list of her teachings.

“There are,” Hal agreed, “but undue attention would only slow us down.”

And just moments later, Ademar echoed what Hal had thought. A wry smile drew across the Apprentice’s face.

“Ale?” he held the inn’s door open for Ademar and followed his companion in. “Of course, but I prefer mead. Sweeter, and besides,” he whispered, “ale gives me the shits.”

He breathed a chuckle and the two approached the bar. Hal quickly surveyed the busy inn, trying to spot those that may be watching them a bit too closely.

Ademar’s size made him the antithesis to a spy or other similar agent, but his size would work as a suitable decoy of sorts in drawing the attention of any folk with something to hide.

“Mead for me, and ale for my big friend here!” Hal feigned a cheery guffaw and slapped two coins against the counter.
 
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Mead? What is that? He had never heard of this...mead before.

“What the fuck is mead?” he asked to Hal as the man already ordered their drinks. And ale giving the shits? What? What the hell was Hal talking about? Ale made him piss a lot, not shit a lot.

“That sounds disgusting. A sweet drink? It’s like drinking candy,” weird comparison, but okay.

Both of their drinks were placed in front of them and the Apprentice grabbed his mug and took a big gulp of it. There was half left, he’d need to order a bigger mug.

“You,” he pointed at the same man who served their drinks, “who owns this tavern? This is some fine ale.”

“Why that’d be me, I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself. That’s not the best brand I have on me. Care for a popular type of ale?”

“Once I’m finished, sure. I do got some questions to ask you.”

“Of course, anything.”

That would be for Hal to take care of. Ademar wasn’t exactly diplomatic and wanted everything out of force.