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Arkayid didn't know what to do. This was, unexpected. He had thought he would be able to look in, but to be apparently sucked in like this...? He watched the two... Souls? Minds? Esscances? What were they anyways? Duel. He had kind of figured out who was who, quickly or so he hoped. In a fight like this, if he aided the wrong side... Well then, he failed in his attempt to help Kernyel. Hoping he picked the silvery light one as the Kernyel he had known for all of fifteen minutes, he figured that well, back-stabbing in something like this is the way to go.

Looking down, he noticed that his clothing, and armor were changing constantly. He needed a sword for this, and what he got was totally unexpected.


It was Mishizuri.

Shrugging, he looked at the sword and tested its balance. Finding it suitable, he took the oversized blade and started running closer, and in this, unconsciously set his clothing into the heavy armor he wore on a daily basis. With a roar, he reached striking distance to launch himself up, and bring the sword down upon the gray form.


((Sorry about the Migraine. I've never had one so I can't truly sympathize, Wish I could be even more sympathetic...))

Arkayid was watching this with awe. Then he realized what was going on... He had to get back! Somehow, if... He could feel his body distantly, still locked in his hold of Kernyel. He stopped the flow of magic to the spell he was powering, and he blinked to find himself staring an Kernyel, his clothing and face completely soaked in sweat. It was not an easy spell to power.


Noticing the red pooling under him, he immediately startled and fell backwards into a puddle. Swearing, he desperately tried to remember healing spells. All of them... everything, dammit Arkayid! Something!! Something finally occured to him, and he ripped off his armor, wrecking it in the process. he could always make a new set. Then he tore his shirt off, the good cloth tearing like spider's silk to his strength.

Sucking in a deep breath, he attempted to bandage her wounds as possible. He was too damn tired to cast any healing magic. He could push it, relying on his endurance to see him through, but... It was risky. He could easily burn himself out.

No matter, what mattered here and now was that he cast the spell and damn the consequences. This was someone's life on the line here, not some game. Taking a deep breath, and reaching deep into his physical reserves, he sought the power to cast the healing spell. The spell worked as he thought it did, and her wounds began to seal. She would still need plenty of bed rest, all the same, but now she was no longer in danger.

He needed rest too, he was so tired at this point, he doubt he could walk at this point. ignoring his fatigue, he picked up Kernyel gently and slowly, and stumbled to a neaby inn.

He looked like a wreck, and so did Kernyel. The Inn Keeper started to say something, but Arkayid nearly snarled incoherently at him. What he did say, was to the effect of "I'll pay you in the morning." Of course, being raised in the rough and tumble towns of New Teir, what he said was considerably ruder then that.

He carried Kernyel upstairs, to a room with a bed. Laying her down on the bed, he tucked her in. He knew he was about to collapse at this point, and barely made it against a wall before collapsing and going straight into a deep sleep.

Arkayid drifted in, while Kernyel was messing with her hair. He was no longer dressed in Plate Mail, his preferred 'clothing' of choice. Nope, he was in loose, flowing pants with a shirt that was cut so that it too was very loose on him, along with slits in the back for him to cram his wings through. He didn't realize she was up until he looked up.

His first reaction was relief. The second, shock, the third, utmost concern, and fouth, exapseration. Each of these played in turn as he stared at her, his eyes wide.

"Kernyel! Back to bed with you! You can't be up yet! Your wounds haven't completely sealed yet! If you need something, what is it? Tell me! You are not supposed to be walking around yet! I don't care if you feel alright or not, because I know you are not." He then stopped in his tirade, and shrugged.

"Kernyel. I must ask. What, the hell, was that?"

((Way to go, Auren. Let's NOT read the 1st sentence.))

Arkayid digested the information, nodding as she spoke. He had a similar issue when his breath weapon was still coming into its own. Now that was a pain. He considered about her being an elemental, and having been raised in Teir's wilderness, had seen some pretty crazy things while he was younger, so he could accept the fact that she was an elemental. Hell, he was a freaking dragon on two legs. She was just a blue tinted human. She could claim whatever the hell she wanted, while he, he could only admit to the fact that yep, I'm a Half-Dragon or whatever else you want to call him.


"Well, time will tell if you actually did the job right. As for your question of how I got in there... Well..." Arkayid gave an embarrased little laugh. "I picked it up from Mother when she wasn't looking. You see, sometimes I can see the flows of magic, and someone screws with them to create the desired effect. So... If I stare at it long enough, then I'll either learn the spell, or know how to counter it, or both. Problem is, it hurts my eyes to do it, its like staring at the sun. So... When Mother had cast the spell to figure out what had happened to a village, I learned it. I, however have very little expeirence in the realm of minds, so what I did was such a risk, I could still be in your head, you bleeding out, and me in a comatose state. Fortunately, well, I was able to figure out how I was able to cut it. Thus, I was able to save your life, repay you my debt... But there's a bigger problem. I think I may have burned myself out to ensure your survival. As in, I can sense magic, see magic, but I cannot tap it. Maybe its from overextending myself or something, but... I haven't been able to cast a damn thing since." Arkayid mused. "As for a meal... Don't get up. You're still torn up pretty badly. I had to sacrfice a few shirts to keep you bandaged, and I'm wearing my last shirt. I'll be right back." With that, Arkayid took a bow and backed out of the room.

He went back downstairs for a good ten minutes, before arriving back in the room with a full spread, with pretty much everything. "Want anything from here? Its for the both of us." Arkayid said as he put everythng down on the table, and organized it.

Arkayid examined the gifts with awe, and accepted them with solemn gratitude. He had tried to stop her when she started giving him things.

"As for your wounds, for the most part they are sealed. My main worry is if you move around too much, you may tear them open, and we'd be back to square one. Now with this potion... We can change that." He opened the potion he gave her, and took the smallest drop possible, just a little on his pinky finger's claw, and licked it.

The rush of energy was absolutely incredible. She wasn't kidding. He felt like he could damn well fly if he wanted, regardless of armor or not! His eyes had shot open, and he felt like he was wired as though he ate wwwaayyy too much sugar cane, and for someone his size, that was easily ten or twenty pounds.

He laughed when he felt the restoration of magic. He turned to Kernyel, and laid a hand on her side, and cast a healing spell. Whatever else of Kernyel's injuries healed themselves. Usually, with his limited knowledge of magic, the healed person was confined to a bed, and ravenous as all hell. Not with this, he easily diverted a flow of power into the spell, which removed that little problem.

Arkayid took his hand off her side and grinned. "There. Do whatever you want, within reason. As for those scars... Well, they were freash and I took the liberty of removing them."

He stopped and stared at the other two gifts. "Kernyel. I can't take either of these. What I was doing... It was returning the favor. You saved me from Larknam. I was a dead man right there, but if you weren't there, there was no way my Mother could've both shielded herself AND healed me. I'm sorry, but you must take them back. I don't feel right about it."

Arkayid barely touched his food. He poked and prodded it and took a few bites, but getting those gifts for simply returning a favor was absolutely absurd. He also had somewhere else to go, to which he stood up from the table.

"Kernyel, I have somewhere I want to go. Namely to see the ruling family of Domachi. They... knew my father for a short time. I would like to discuss things with them. The Inn's been payed for a week, and I'm not entirely sure when I'll be back. But since you're suitable and ready to get into another ugly fight, what you want to do is up to you."

Arkayid stood up and slightly bowed, before returning to his pack. He had acquired a new set of armor in the time that Kernyel was recovering, and he put it on solemnly. He then took out a dead-black cloak, one that hadn't been worn for 15 years. On the back of it, was an emblem of a region wide famous mercenary unit, with the silloette of a Wyvern curled around a spear. This pattern was inlaid into the cloak in silver, and was polished to a high sheen. After making sure the armor fit well, he pulled the cloak on, and wrapped it around himself.

"This cloak has not been worn for fifteen years. It used to belong to my father, and now it belongs to me, Kernyel. I have no idea why I am telling you, but I guess I am. Good day, Kernyel." With that Arkayid spun around, and left the room.

Kernyel could come if she wanted too, he wasn't going to stop her. She was, after all, her own person. If she wanted to come, sure, why not. If she didn't, whatever.

Arkayid halted at the threshold of the door. "I've never been here earlier. I mean, I got a good look where what goes where, but as for the city itself. Never been here. They say its a city of Dragons, and they weren't fooling around. You have to see it for yourself. I mean, I did a little bit of exploring, and we're in the commercial district. After rooting around, I was able to get a map... but the damn thing feels like its greasy. Tourist greasy, as Mother would put it. Now as for you accompaying me... I guess. I dunno. Hell, I wasn't going to stop you one way or another." He returned to the room, and cleaned up their dishes. "I'll have to make a stop downstairs first, and then off we go." Arkayid said while expediantly cleaning up.

After taking stuff downstairs, with Kernyel in two, he stepped out into the morning sun. It felt good to him, and he took the liberty of snapping his wings open, to absorb it. To him, it felt like a gentle light rain coming down on him.

It was then he noticed that he was getting strange looks from people with the emblem on his back. Acting nonchalantly, he turned to Kernyel, and sighed. "The sun is nice today... Shall we head to the capital district?"

<>

It had been days. Weeks, maybe. He didn't know. His rations were limited; his wounds, though healed, still itched at him through his damaged platemail. The sun had long since set, and the full moon was high in the night sky when he crossed the threshold into Domachi. He had lost Kernyel, Arkayid, and Alhana a long time ago. Despite his cries for them to slow, they did not. He shouted many times for them to wait for him, but it was as if they had not heard him.

His travels had brought him into a scuffle with a few of the remaining bandits that had fled Arkayid. He'd been ambushed while making himself dinner at the time, and hadn't had his armor on. He took a gash to the arm in the short battle, but had managed to bandage it up rather well. It would fully heal. It hadn't cut deep enough to damage his muscle.

And thrice more he was ambushed by those damnable shadows. Small creatures, black as night, each weilding an unholy blade that seemed less a blade and more an extension of their arm. They bled like anything else, though. It was almost as if they bled smoke, and when they passed they just...dissappeared from thin air, but they bled. Three times had they ambushed him, after not once being ambushed while with Kernyel and Alhana and Arkayid. Something was fishy, he knew. He'd eventually figure out just what.

He brought himself out of his memories and looked up at the gateway. The doors had opened, and the gatekeeper looked at Jaster as though he were crazy. Jaster shook his head, nodded at the gatekeeper and walked through. It didn't take him long to find Alexander's shop. One of the few smiths in town, and Jaster had been here before. It was late, but he cared not. He pounded his fist on the door, and when Alexander opened it Jaster smiled wide and grabbed him into a bear hug. "Alexander, my old friend! It's been nigh on forever, has it not?" Alexander was taken aback by this, as it was so late, but he invited Jaster in nonetheless and offered him the guest room. They sat talking for a while, making small talk, and finally Jaster removed the platemail from his body. He lay it on the ground, then looked at it. He looked at Alexander and said nothing. His eyes said it all.

Alexander, on the other hand, lit up. He smiled wide and said, "I had a feeling ye'd be coming back to Domachi, Jaster! And me wife'll tell ye, I've been slaving away at me anvil for ye." He took the old set, and said that he'd take this as payment, and would be able to melt it down to use it again. Then he took Jaster into the workshop and unveiled a brand new set of armor. It was magnificent. It shone from the light of the furnace, and was made of the best metals available. It was light as a feather, and stronger than steel. Some of the Dragons had commissioned him to make this, but seemed unsatisfied with it. However, they were unsatisfied with the material they gave him to work with, not with the end product. They told Alexander they could keep it, as they would not argue over hard work done. Alexander knew it would be a perfect fit for Jaster.

It was.

Jaster was extremely pleased with it, and smiled warmly at his old friend. "Alexander, my friend, you've outdone yourself. I owe you a great debt for this," he said. Alexander replied to him, "No, Jaster. To hear you call me your friend, even though my armor fails you, is enough for me. I be a happy blacksmith knowing that Jaster Alan Tikaris be me friend." He patted Jaster on the back, and started him towards the door. They both knew that even though he had offered the guest room, Jaster would choose the Inn. They bade a silent farewell, and with tears welling up in his eyes, Jaster walked to the Inn, wearing his new platemail.

He reached the Inn, and tossed a few gold coins on the table to the Innkeeper. He was given a key, and headed to his room. There wasn't much to unpack, but he did unpack what he had and got ready for bed. He flopped out on the bed, and his head hit the pillow. It wasn't long before he was in dreams. His dreams were troubled. He saw flashes, and broken, fragmented images. What he pieced together was a contorted image of the small shadow creatures slinking through Domachi until they came to Alexander's Blacksmith shop. There, the images became even more fragmented, and much more gruesome. It was probably good they were fragments, or it would have woken Jaster from his sleep.

Somewhere, in the back of his subconcious, he watched this with alarm. His demons were destroying all he loved. It was just a dream, his subconcious told himself. It was just a dream. Wasn't it?

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