Okay, this is another "in between sessions" story. Basically it picks up right where we left off last sunday. Enjoy!

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"Losses"

Arius watched.

Before him, in the square before the temple of the Raven Queen, a small crowd stood in a half circle before the raised platform where Skamos’ body was slowly being consumed by the flames he had loved so well in life. The dark-clad elf could make out the silhouettes of his companions among the crowd: Kidrin, who had made the journey from the City of No Names to be here for his long-time friend’s funeral; Tiena, her fiery nature doing well to support her in this difficult time, though Arius could sense the pain that she felt as if it were his own; Febrien stood at Tiena’s side, and though Arius couldn’t actually see her face, he could imagine the mask of forced calm that her beautiful features had become, her sapphire eyes locked on the flames; even Brude had come to pay his respects, as well as Exorinn, the dragonborn fighter that had aided them in the city’s sewers weeks before.

Hayato was thankfully absent.

Arius felt his blood boil when his thoughts turned to the monk. He clenched his fists as his body trembled, ignoring the pain that accompanied his nails digging into the flesh of his palms. The elf warlock closed his eyes, turning his face away from the ceremony as, even at this distance, he could feel the heat from the funereal pyre.

Arius himself had started that fire, using his fey powers to start the conflagration that would transform his friend’s remains into nothing more than ash. Tiena had approached the amethyst-eyed elf several days earlier, asking him if he would do the honors, and though under any other circumstances Arius would have refused, he found himself unable to say no to the grieving tiefling woman. That had only been the beginning, for it turned out that Skamos’ widow also wanted the fey warlock to play a dirge for her husband, accompanied of course by Ellia. To top everything off, Arius was also offered a place of honor in the actual ceremony, being one of only three people permitted to stand at Tiena’s side before the pyre, along with Kidrin and Febrien. He had fulfilled his duties up to that point, but he had no desire to remain so close to the flames that were consuming Skamos’ body.

He opened his eyes once again, locking his gaze on the steadily rising fire and letting his mind drift back…

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Months earlier…

Flames lit the night.

A cool breeze blew through the clearing, setting the surrounding trees to swaying, the fire’s light reflecting on the dancing leaves. Silence dominated all, broken only by the crackling of the flames and the occasional mournful howl of a wolf in the distance. Figures stood in a loose circle around the pyre, their nearly-bestial faces solemn, their dark eyes locked on the display before them.

Arius stood apart from the others, his wrathful gaze focused on Hayato, who somehow had the gall to join in the circle, despite the fact that his actions had led to Fenrir’s death. Had the foolish monk not retreated from the previous days’ battle, perhaps the shifter warrior would still be with them, for with Hayato’s absence the enemy had been able to surround and massacre Fenrir. A nearly uncontrollable rage flooded Arius’ body, reminding him for a moment of the constant anger that had once so totally consumed his life. He slowly shut his eyes and took a deep breath, willing himself to calm, reminding himself that Fenrir was gone, and that no amount of regret or anger would bring him back.

A subtle sensation of reassurance spread throughout Arius’ body, and he knew that Daerist was there, working his calming arts upon the elven warlock. For a moment Arius was tempted to fight against the ancient spirit’s influence, for he had more than once told Daerist how he felt about being manipulated, no matter how benevolent that manipulation may be. The thought was a fleeting one though, and he simply let the sensation course through him.

Daerist spoke.

“He was a powerful and reliable companion,” the former elven King said softly, as if fearing that somehow his mental voice would interrupt the somber ceremony that was taking place on the other side of the clearing. “His sword will be missed…”

For some reason, Arius found himself disturbed by Daerist’s comment. “Only his sword?” he asked. “That seems cold, even for you. He was a loyal friend, Daerist… He died defending us against those creatures.” He paused, feeling his frustration with the fey spirit rising. “After all he did for us, all you can say is that his sword will be missed?” Arius shook his head.

“What difference does it make, Arius? Companions come and go, as you should well know. And isn’t it better that he lose his life rather than you or one of the others?” The mental voice quieted as the wind picked up for a moment, howling through the trees and sending a collection of red-hot embers from the fire spiraling up into the night sky. “What I mean is, at least those whose lives truly matter are alright…”

Arius snorted, shocked and appalled by Daerist’s apathy. “How can you say that? How is one life worth more than another, I wonder?” The ancient King of Galdria made no response, though Arius hadn’t really expected one. In many ways, despite all of the time they’d spent together, Daerist was still an enigma to Arius. It was obvious that the one-time sword had some agenda of his own, and despite his “bonding” with Arius, Daerist still kept much to himself. It bothered Arius quite a bit, to say the least.

Arius’ mind turned to Febrien. He knew that his long-time companion blamed herself for Fenrir’s death, though Arius was perfectly content to let the blame fall upon Hayato’s shoulders. That she had been determined to spare the starving, hunger-driven dire wolf that had killed Fenrir weighed heavily upon the elven ranger, and Arius could feel the sorrow she felt emanating from her in waves. More than anything he wanted to tell Febrien that she was no more to blame than anyone else, other than Hayato of course.

Had he simply stood his ground rather than running away… Arius shut that thought out, knowing the dark path that his mind would wander down should he dwell upon it.

Across the small clearing the flames burned down to coals as the attending members of Fenrir’s tribe prepared to gather up their kinsman’s ashes. What they intended to do with them—as well as what other rituals and ceremonies would take place in private—was unknown to Arius. The crowd slowly dispersed, with Febrien taking a moment to speak privately with several of the shifter clan members. Skamos and Hayato approached Arius slowly, though the monk lagged slightly behind the tiefling.

Arius looked past Skamos, setting his iridescent purple eyes upon Hayato. The monk seemed to squirm beneath the warlock’s glare, and it was obvious that he wished himself anywhere else in the world at the moment. With a sigh of disgust that wasn’t lost upon the human, Arius walked away, making his way toward Febrien and the remaining shifters.

Sensing eyes upon his back, Arius looked back over his shoulder and saw Hayato turn his gaze quickly away. The elf clenched his fists as he returned his attention to Febrien, who was finishing her conversation with Fenrir’s people. Though he smiled slightly to her as she approached, Arius’ mind was still on Hayato.

Never again, Hayato… Never again will you be responsible for the death of one of our own. And if you are, I’ll kill you myself.

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A quiet clearing of the throat caught Arius’ attention.

He turned, unsurprised to see Ellia standing behind him, her lute clutched tightly against her chest. The beautiful young woman was clothed from head to toe in black, other than the dark blue sash around her waist and the violet scarf at her neck. Her large, emerald-green eyes were wide and shimmering, as if she were about to break into tears at any moment as they reflected the light from Skamos’ pyre, and her pale golden hair was done up in the latest fashion, resting atop her head and secured by multiple silver and gemmed pins.

She looked stunning.

“Are you okay?” the young barmaid asked, a hint of sincere concern coloring her voice. There was a slight tremble to it, and Arius found himself amazed to discover how much Ellia really cared about him. She took a single step forward, and for a moment it seemed as if she was about to reach out to him. She stopped herself at the last minute, much to Arius’ relief.

“I’m fine,” he lied softly. With that, the black-clad elf turned and moved past her swiftly without another word. After several paces, he stopped as Ellia called out to him.

“Arius, where are you going? The ceremony isn’t over yet…”

“There’s something I have to take care of, Ellia.” He prepared to continue on, but before doing so he stopped and turned to her. “I’ll be back soon, don’t worry.” Turning his back to her once again, Arius left the funeral rite behind him as the flames from Skamos’ pyre stretched high into the darkening evening sky.

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(It was actually too long to post all in one block!!! Continued below!!!)

The common room was fairly empty.

Arius entered, his eyes scanning the room until he found the person he sought. In the far corner sat Hayato, his attention focused on the mug of ale before him. The few other patrons of the inn looked up from their tables and noticed the look of cold rage that was barely concealed on Arius’ face. In almost an instant the room was empty, all but Arius and Hayato, who had just become aware of the elf’s presence. His eyes widened as he stood, as if he knew exactly what was to come.

The warlock strode across the now-empty chamber, making his way straight toward Hayato. In the back of his mind, Arius could sense an angry presence, one that was quite a bit different—not to mention muchmore powerful—than Daerist. This presence seemed to be screaming silently at him, trying to stop the formerly-cursed warrior with all its might. Shutting it out, Arius stopped before Hayato.

I’m sorry, Jeyld, Arius thought toward the frustrated force within his mind. But not even you can stop me from doing this… It’s been too long in coming, we both know that! In a movement so fast that it defied logic, Arius drew his sword and struck, the weapon’s ornately-stylized hilt connecting with Hayato’s face and knocking him to the ground with a spatter of blood. Arius tossed the sword aside as he reached down to grab the monk by the front of his robes, pulling him to his feet.

Arius snarled, “For too long I’ve sat by and had to deal with your ignorance! For the sake of the others I’ve done nothing, content to let you simply stumble along, putting all of us at risk.” His eyes flashed with fey power as he pulled Hayato closer, blood running freely from the large gash in the side of the human’s face. “No more!”

“I’ll… I’m not going to fight you Arius,” Hayato muttered, a look of defiance on his face.

Arius simply flashed the monk a humorless smile. “Good. That makes it much easier for me then!” Releasing his hold on Hayato, Arius flung the monk aside before delivering a backhanded blow that sent his opponent reeling. As he staggered back, Arius was upon Hayato again, bringing his knee up into the human’s abdomen, forcing the breath from his body as Arius reached forward to once again take hold of his robes. The elf gave Hayato a hard shove, and the bleeding man fell backward over a table before hitting the ground.

“Arius—” Hayato gasped as the black-clad elf knelt over him, pulling his fist back for another strike. Arius struck, repeatedly, snapping Hayato’s head back with each blow, and soon the human was gasping for breath through lips split and bleeding, his nose broken and his right eye on its way to being swollen shut. Arius grabbed the monk by the neck, lifting him slightly off the ground before slamming him down again. As the elf stood and took a few steps away, Hayato lay unmoving on the floor.

Arius flexed his fingers, several of his knuckles swollen and throbbing, obviously broken. He once again turned his wrath upon Hayato. “You brought this upon yourself!” he shouted as he moved forward and delivered a powerful kick to the monk’s ribs. Hayato cried out as he was rocked by a spasm of pain. “You’re as responsible for their deaths as the creatures that killed them!” Another kick, and Hayato spat out a mouthful of blood. The elf bent down and pulled Hayato roughly to his feet, spinning him and tossing him through another table. The human slid across the floor several feet before stopping, his back arching with agony.

“Arius, I…” Hayato stood slowly to his feet, his knees threatening to buckle beneath him. “I don’t know what you… what you want me to say…” The elven warlock walked purposefully toward him, stopping barely a foot away. “Is this going to bring them back, Arius? Is it?!” Arius lunged forward, his fist pulled back for another strike, and Hayato felt something snap within him. The monk clenched his fists and lashed out, striking the elf hard in the jaw and sending him careening backward until he struck the far wall of the room and slid to the ground.

Arius was stunned at the power behind Hayato’s attack, for the blow had been completely unexpected. He struggled to his hands and knees, his head spinning and his stomach twisting, nearly forcing the elf to throw up. His vision was blurry as he stood, swaying, his arms held out to the sides to balance himself. He shook his head to clear his vision, his eyes narrowing as he saw Hayato approaching.

The entire time, Arius could sense Jeyld within his mind, screaming at him to stop.

“I’m actually glad you did that,” Arius said, a trickle of blood running from the corner of his mouth. “I really would have felt bad about killing someone who wouldn’t even fight back.”

“I’m not going to let you just beat on me anymore, got it?” Hayato asked as he slowly shifted into a fighting stance. His eyes narrowed, his glare an even match for Arius’ own. “I’m sorry for what happened Arius, I really am, but this is only going to make things worse.”

“Maybe,” the elf conceded, calling upon as much fey power as he could, “but it’s sure going to make me feel a lot better!” Suddenly a fount of eldritch power welled up around Arius, and Hayato gasped as a familiar sensation gripped him. A shock of pain tore through the monk’s body as he felt himself lifted slightly off the ground, as if a giant hand had picked him up and was crushing him. He gritted his teeth, refusing to cry out as the pressure increased, until he was flung across the room to strike the wall with a sickening thud. Much as Arius had done earlier, Hayato slid to the floor, where he lay unmoving amidst a pile of broken tables and splinters of wood from the now-broken wall. Arius walked forward, crossing the room to kneel beside the prone, dazed human. He reached down to grab Hayato by the neck as he spoke.

“I’m not going to kill you, though you deserve no less,” Arius muttered through clenched teeth. “But I swear, by the gods, that if another one of my friends is struck down because of your incompetence, I will show you no mercy.” He released his hold on Hayato as he stood and made his way to the inn’s exit, a sensation of pain flooding him for a moment as Jeyld showed his supreme disgust at Arius’ actions.

Forgive me, old friend, Arius silently pleaded with the former gnome bard, now something of a demigod. But he’s had that coming for far too long… And its better that I get my hands on him before Tiena has a chance to.

Without a word, Arius walked out into the night, leaving the unconscious and battered Hayato lying in a pool of his own blood in the common room behind him. As he made his way back toward Skamos’ funeral ceremony, Arius sensed Daerist within his mind.

“Well, do you feel better now?” he asked. Arius said nothing as he walked on, prompting Daerist to continue. “For what its worth, I am sorry to have lost Fenrir and Skamos, Arius…” The spirit paused for a moment before going on. “But, at least Brude is back, right?”

“Yeah,” Arius replied softly, ignoring the pain in his jaw and hands. “At least Brude’s back…”

Damn.

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AMdG

Hayato woke up some undetermined amount of time later. He shook his head, his mind a blank as he tried to recall what just happened. He sat up, looking around the wreck that was once the common room, then noticed his condition. His body was battered and bruised, his clothes were torn, and he was bleeding. His eyes widened as a realization had just hit him. That's right... Arius... Hayato clenched his fist, his anger rising as he recalled the savage beating he recieved from him. How dare him! Who does he think he is, just waltzing in here and attacking me!? That damn elf, or eladrin, or whatever he is this week hasn't changed one bi- He stopped his train of thought as yet another realization had kicked in: it was HIM that hadn't changed. He still went through their battles, fumbling, thinking only of himself, and in the end, he actually caused the loss of two of his comrades. He clenched his teeth, then slammed his fist into the ground, creating a nice little dent in the floor boards. "Damnit...", was all he could say as tears trickled down his cheeks. He sat with his back against the wall, his knees pulled up to his chest with his head buried in them, eventually dozing off as one train of thought repeated in his mind.


I'm useless...

The flames were dying down.

Arius hovered in the shadows of a darkened alley for a moment, watching as those gathered for Skamos’ funeral slowly began to disperse. Soon only Tiena, Febrien, Kidrin, and Brude remained near the pyre, with Ellia still standing exactly where she had been when Arius had left for the inn. Ignoring his companions, Arius instead locked his gaze on the flickering, orange-red flames.

Good bye, my friend, he thought, feeling a sudden tightness in his chest. He clenched his bruised fists as his vision blurred, and he set his jaw stubbornly as he fought against the tears that threatened to flow down his pale cheeks. And forgive me… He closed his shimmering eyes, calming his mind and forcing himself into a state of mental and physical calm before stepping out into the square.

His movement caught Ellia’s eye, and she turned to face him, shock clearly evident on her delicate features. Arius stopped beside her, crossing his arms and hiding his bruised and rapidly swelling hands within his night-dark cloak, too late. The barmaid gasped, noticing the condition of the elf’s hands and the spreading bruise along his jaw-line. Before she could speak, Arius shot her a sharp glance, and she faltered for a moment.

Tilting her head slightly to the side, finally she said, “Where is your hat, Arius?”

The question caught the warlock off guard for a moment, and he absently reached upward, his fingers finding only his own raven hair. Damn that monk, he thought, recalling the blow from Hayato that had sent him crashing across the inn’s common room. It took but a moment for Arius to will his hat back to him, and as soon as it was done it appeared in his hand, feather and all. Placing it back upon his head, the elf returned his attention to the temple square. Seeing that the ceremony was at last complete, Arius strode forward, Ellia faltering a moment before following a few steps behind.

Tiena turned from her soft conversation with the High Priest of the Raven Queen as she sensed Arius’ approach, her face a stony mask. She put on a false smile as the elf stopped before her, inclining his head slightly in deference to the priest.

Arius said, “I’m sorry for your loss,” as he reached out, taking Tiena’s trembling hand in his own, squeezing reassuringly despite the pain in his broken knuckles. “Skamos did so much for us, my companions and I, that I considered myself forever in his debt. With his passing, that debt is now held by you, Tiena. Have you a need for anything, ever, I will do everything in my power to give it you.” He released the tiefling woman’s hand as she nodded, tears in her eyes, and he turned away. Seeing Febrien and Kidrin nearby, Arius went to them, Ellia in tow.

The elven ranger’s piercing blue eyes narrowed as she noticed Arius’ slightly disheveled condition. Her frustration increased as Arius, ignoring her completely, placed his hand upon Kidrin’s shoulder, locking gazes with the dragonborn. Sensing this tension between Arius and Febrien, Ellia smiled to herself.

“Thank the gods my message reached you,” Arius said, still relieved that the dragonborn paladin—a long time friend and companion of Skamos’—had been able to make the journey from the City of No Names for the tiefling’s funeral. “Skamos would have wanted you here, Kidrin…” The paladin simply nodded before leaving the two elves and the human woman behind him as he went to be with Tiena.

“Come on, let’s get back to the inn Arius,” Febrien said, laying her hand gently on the dark-clad elf’s shoulder. Once again studying Arius’ obvious injuries, Febrien added, “I think we need to have a talk…”

The formerly-cursed warrior narrowed his eyes to a near-glare as he turned to gaze at Febrien over his shoulder as he prepared to walk away. “I don’t think so. I’m going to stay at Brude’s tavern; I’m sure I won’t be welcome at the inn tonight anyway…” Without another word Arius walked away, joining up with Brude as the doppelganger rogue took off down the thoroughfare in the direction of his tavern, the base of operations for his slowly expanding thieves’ guild.

With the two of them out of sight, Febrien turned toward Ellia. “What’s going on?” the ranger asked.

Ellia simply shrugged. “I don’t know, honestly. He left the ceremony earlier; he said that there was something that he had to take care of.” Her forehead furrowed with concern as she continued. “He looks like he’s been fighting, doesn’t he? I hope he’s alright.”

“Fighting…” Febrien said, almost to herself. Suddenly the elven woman understood the reason for Arius’ injuries and tousled appearance. “Oh no,” she nearly growled, clenching her fists in anger. “How could he? How dare he?!” Moving briskly past Ellia, Febrien took off across the temple square, making her way quickly toward the inn.

“Where are you going?” Ellia asked, having to run to catch up with the dark-haired woman. “Is something wrong?” The ranger didn’t respond, her gaze locked on some distant point ahead of her. “Febrien?” Ellia prompted, frustration tingeing her voice.

Without stopping, Febrien said, “We need to get to the inn as soon as possible. I fear that, in his anger, Arius may have done something terrible…”

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AMdG

The smell of blood hit her first.

The warm, metallic stench washed over Febrien and Ellia as they burst through the door of the inn, nearly halting the ranger in her tracks. She quickly scanned the destruction, vague shapes slowly coming into focus as her eyes adjusted to the gloom within. Tables lay scattered and broken across the floor, their contents strewn haphazardly about. Chairs rested here and there, most of them reduced to splinters, one or two standing defiantly amid the chaos. Across the room, the wall sagged around a large, jagged dent, the wood bowed and cracked from some unknown force. And smeared over everything was the blood.

It spattered the floor and the walls, a few drops having even reached the ceiling above. Several pools on the floorboards recorded the battle that had taken place – a smear here, a boot print there. The broken wall was drenched in sticky gore, the rivulets of red running down and out of sight behind an upturned table. Near the center of the room, a large puddle sat congealing, almost black in the scant light. Ellia, who had been staring around in shock, frozen in place, now turned and raced out the door. A moment later, the ranger heard the sound of retching from somewhere nearby.

Hayato must be in here somewhere, she thought, taking in the gruesome scene before stepping forward with grim determination.

To the elf’s surprise, Ellia entered again a moment later and shakily set off after her, carefully avoiding the wreckage. Halfway through the room, the ranger paused, a faint glitter catching her eye. Pulling up a ruined table and shifting part of a chair, she managed to unearth a familiar blade. Arius’ rapier lay in the refuse, lost and forgotten in the heat of the moment. Febrien knelt, gently lifted it free, and slid it through her belt for safekeeping. As she shifted back on her haunches to stand, she lifted her gaze and gasped. From this angle, she could now see behind the upturned table at the far end of the room to the mangled lump beyond. Rising quickly, she crossed the littered floor, weaving gracefully through the wreckage, unmindful of the blood that stained her boots.

“Oh, Arius,” she breathed, getting a good look over the table for the first time. Ellia approached more slowly and stepped around the barrier, her eyes widening.

“A–Arius did this?” she asked, her face growing pale.

“Without a doubt,” the ranger replied with a dark look, resting a hand on the hilt of his sword.

Sighing, the dark haired woman pulled the table aside and knelt next to Hayato’s unconscious form. She marked his faint respiration, relieved to see his chest rise and fall in a regular, if labored rhythm. His face was unrecognizable. Though the beating had occurred less than half an hour ago, bruising and swelling had already set in, rendering his face a grotesque mask of the man she knew. His nose was badly broken and displaced, and his lips were in shreds, blood trickling lazily down his chin. Febrien gently took his face in her hands, feeling carefully for the extent of the damage. His skull and jaw remained intact, as did his neck and one arm. The other arm sprawled at an awkward angle, apparently snapped by the impact and ensuing fall. As the ranger felt along his torso, she also detected the crackle of several broken ribs. She finished her inspection, her face growing more severe with each injury she discovered.

As she stood, Ellia returned to her side, having scaled the bar to find some water and a clean rag. She now took Febrien’s place and began dabbing tentatively at the monk’s wounds. The human woman worked in conspicuous silence, and after a moment, Febrien left her, climbing easily over the ruined furniture. After rooting around for several minutes, she made her way back to the pair with a sturdy chair leg and a stained cloak that someone had discarded in their haste to depart. Stepping over Hayato’s inert form, she braced her foot in his armpit and grasped the hand of his injured arm.

“I’m glad you’re unconscious for this, Hayato,” she murmured, and then gave a sharp tug, careful not to dislocate his shoulder. There was a dull scrape as the bones realigned within, and Ellia’s face, already pale, lost the rest of its color. Working quickly, the elf tore the cloak into strips and splinted the chair leg tightly to his arm, stabilizing the fracture.

“Would you please look for some salve or a healing potion?” Febrien asked as she heard running footsteps approach. A moment later, a man she recognized as the young bartender burst through the door, dragging an older man by the shirtsleeve. The older man looked around in disbelief, mopping his flushed face with a handkerchief and wheezing from exertion.

“What happened here?” he bellowed, rounding on the cowering barkeep. “I told you to keep an eye on things,” he said, cuffing the man about the head. “Now look at this mess!” He jumped as Febrien stood up into his line of sight. “Who the hell are you?”

“She’s friends with the maniac what did this!” the boy shouted before she could speak, pointing wildly. “I told you, he jus’ walks in, cold as death, an’ starts blowin’ the place to pieces. Looked like ‘e was after someone.”

“He was after this man,” Febrien interrupted, gesturing to the fallen monk, who was now stirring slightly. “Have you a healing kit I can use?”

“After your friend destroyed my inn? Not bloody likely!” The large man’s face had taken on an alarming shade, and his fists clenched and released in spasms as he surveyed the remains of his common room.

“I’m sorry about the inn,” Febrien said, glancing restlessly down at the monk as she stepped forward. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Ellia returning with a small jar in hand. “I would be happy to contribute to the repairs. I–”

“Do you even know what it would take to repair this place?” he roared. “I’m looking at 10,000 gold, at least, for the wall alone, never mind the furniture.”

Febrien winced at the exorbitant amount, panic churning in her stomach.

Damn you, Arius, she cursed mentally, scrambling to find some way to resolve the situation.

“I’ll take care of it,” Ellia announced, stepping into the open.

“Who the bloody hell are you?” the man roared, his agitation soaring to new heights.

“That’s none of your concern,” the one-time barmaid replied tartly, advancing toward Febrien. Handing the dumbstruck ranger the jar of healing salve, she made her way laboriously toward the entrance. “And that’s no way to speak to someone,” she continued, stepping up to the man in righteous outrage. "If you wish to collect your due, send a liveryman to the inn at 312 East Rosewood in an hour. Now help me move these tables so we can get this man to a temple.”

The two men stared at her aghast, their mouths ajar.

“Move!” she cried, gesturing at the debris. To Febrien’s surprise, the pair leaped into action, quickly clearing a path to the door. The ranger gently lifted the battered monk into her arms, and his eyes fluttered briefly open.

“F–Febrien?” he managed, the words barely discernable through his ruined lips.

“Shh,” she hushed him, making her way carefully into the sunlight.

“All my fault,” she heard before he dropped back into blessed unconsciousness. The elven woman set out for the temple, her face grim, as Ellia trailed quietly behind.

The young cleric’s face paled as the trio stumbled through the temple entrance, his eyes flitting over the excess of bruising and blood covering the unconscious monk. Febrien laid Hayato carefully in front of the startled man.

“Can you heal all of this?” she asked him, rising once more.

“I–I think so,” he stammered, wringing his hands as his eyes grew large.

“Good,” she replied tersely, dropping a few gold pieces in the donation well as she headed for the door.

“Where are you going?” Ellia asked, running after the elven woman and grabbing her arm.

“Arius and I need to have a little chat,” she said, carefully extracting herself from the barmaid’s grasp.

“I’m sure he had a good reason for this,” Ellia called after her as Febrien reached the door.

“No, Ellia,” the ranger spat, whirling around and leveling a glare at the naïve girl. “Even if he had a good reason, he had no right to do this.” She gestured at the monk’s devastated body. “Hayato has made terrible mistakes – mistakes that have cost lives – but that doesn’t excuse such vicious and sadistic brutality toward another living soul. Arius hasn’t learned that yet.”

Spinning once more toward the door, the ranger stalked into the street and out of sight, leaving Ellia alone with her thoughts. Febrien paused a moment to get her bearings, then set out purposefully for Brude’s tavern. The ten minute walk did nothing to cool her temper, and she shoved aggressively through the door, barely masking her long-building fury. She quickly scanned the dark common room, easily locating the object of her anger.

Arius sat predictably in the darkest corner of the room, his traveling hat pulled low over his eyes. He seemed not to notice her as she crossed the wooden floor, continuing to nurse the mug of ale before him. Brude was not so distracted, however. Seeming to appear from nowhere, the shady thief noted the look on the ranger’s face and pleasantly moved to block her path.

“He doesn’t care to be disturbed,” he informed her, a simpering smile crossing his face.

“That’s too bad,” the elven woman replied, shoving past her unwelcome companion. With a subtle gesture, the thief summoned his house guards, who materialized from the darkness on all sides, little more than threatening shadows. Their various blades slid halfway from sheaths and sleeves, glinting ominously in the half light. The ranger tensed and reached for her own blades, relaxing into a defensive stance.

“I’ll handle her,” Arius suddenly spoke up from the corner, finally raising his eyes to take in the heated scene. Rising gracefully, if a little stiffly, he strode toward the door without another word. Glancing over her shoulder, Febrien followed, keeping a wary eye on the guards as they melted back into the shadows.

“How dare you?” she seethed as the pair crossed the threshold into the sun-kissed street once more.

“What? Rescue you from Brude’s thugs?” he asked insolently, crossing his arms and leaning back against the building.

“You know what I’m talking about – how dare you treat another that way,” she ranted stepping into his space and putting herself face to face.

“He’s nothing but a useless parasite, Febrien,” the dark elf insisted matter-of-factly, peering at her from under the brim of his hat. “He’s worthless, and he’s going to get all of us killed someday. Did you happen to find my sword?”

“That doesn’t give you the right to turn him into your personal plaything,” she shouted. It took a moment for the remainder of his words to register. “You’re sword is more important to you than a man’s life?” she asked in disbelief, yanking his rapier from her belt.

“Only Hayato’s,” he responded, reaching for his blade.

“If you have such a problem with him, why do you stay?” the elf fumed, pulling her hand back so his rapier was out of reach. “Why don’t you leave and find someone you don’t feel compelled to murder every other day?”

His head snapped up at the vehemence underscoring her words. “Perhaps I will,” he mused bitterly, pushing off from the wall. Before she could react, he grabbed the hilt of his sword and wrenched it violently from her grasp. Febrien cried out as the finely honed blade sliced through her palm, raining ruby droplets onto the cobblestones.

“Febrien, I –” he began in alarm.

“Don’t worry about it, Arius,” she snapped at him, the mask of shock and hurt morphing into a sneer as she pressed hard on the ugly wound to staunch the bright flow. “What care do you have for a few more drops of blood on your conscience?” Glaring at him, she turned and stalked toward the temple, her eyes filled with tears that had nothing to do with her physical injury. As Arius watched, the ranger disappeared through the crowd, leaving him alone to stare after her.