"It's just a game."

“Tamber! Tamber, where the hell is that child?” The screams of the proprietor of the ‘Prideful Lion Inn’ cut through the early morning air, muffled only by the walls of the Inn.

Outside was nearly silent, the sun not even begun to rise. A thick fog had settled through the night, leaving the mind to wonder at the nearest shadows beyond the gray wet veil of the morning, even the grass had not been spared as it was covered in a cold slick dew.

A faint startled yelp arose from the stables a short distance from the Inn, followed closely by a light thud as the man called once more.

In moments there was a short frantic scurry of a pair of feet with a clatter of noise before a young girl with short blonde hair dressed in patched clothing came running out.

With her desperate race to get ready to answer the summons from Samson, when she awoke, she had fallen from her bed of hay and now had a small splotch of horse shit on the back of her clothing. In addition to this filth freshly added to her already poor attire were stray reeds of nearly dark brown hay from the ground.

Fortunately there had yet been any business of riders stabling their horses the past week, the previous ones having already gone on their own ways of journeys beyond the small world Tamrie knew of.

Tamrie, the child with her hair cut, and her small body that had yet begun it’s growth into adulthood appeared as a boy. Only her voice was what made her sound like the girl her master, Samson had made her appear as.

At this time, due to the lack of travelers, Tamrie had found a small bit of warmth in the loft of the stables, it was her rare chance to sleep with an actual roof over her and the added warmth and comfort had her feeling as if she were somewhere else. In her mind as she continued, trying to keep from tripping in the dirt, she was fearful of having to pay for her desire for comfort.

Heart hammering in her chest, Tamrie came to a halt, finishing her sprint across the way to the back door of the Inn. As she reached to open the door, it swung open hard, smacking her in the face and sending her flying back onto her ass.

In a fit, Samson emerged from the kitchen and looked around before spotting Tamrie on the ground, one hand on her nose, eyes closed, his eyes narrowed as he glared at her, his jaw set.

She knew the sting of pain, but she also knew the price to pay should she let a single tear fall.

Ensuring she was not bleeding, Tamrie immediately moved to lower herself properly on all fours before the man who permitted her life to continue. Her small frame seemed nearly insignificant against the large mass of fat and muscle both.

Prostrating herself before the man was the best way to start the day she had learned from these past two winters.

She sat there, on all fours, head down on the dirt for a second before she heard a throaty noise. Following this, she felt something wet and sticky struck the back of her head was all she needed to know.

It would be a good day.

“I swear, by the Gods, you are worthless. Git yerself in and git ta work,” with that, Samson turned and went back in.

With a second to spare, Tamrie allowed herself, the briefest of smiles before hiding it and getting up to go inside and begin her work of chores.

During the day, while busy with her indoor chores, she spotted an occasional glimpse of a man she had never seen before. His face, and even his eyes seemed to tell he had traveled far. His dressings were filthy and slightly ragged, but still showed there was money to this man.

The women in the kitchen chatted away about the stranger. Or, at least, by women, it was the usual two women who spoke, while the third remained as silent as always.

Mira, Samsons wife who was always talking about gracing her husband with a strong son to make her husband proud, but seemed incapable. She was very beautiful once when she was in her youth, or so she says. Her once golden curls had long since darkened and lain flat. Her body had plumped slightly over the years, large amounts of stress from her life after marrying Samson had taken its toll, and left her with many early wrinkles and a few gray hairs.

Sidea, a woman traded from a working farm as a slave of one to now a slave in the kitchen. She never spoke, always looked at the floor and was always busy preparing plants, spices, herbs, and some meats as her family had once taught her. Her way of cooking food was the only reason she was taken from the farm. Word had already traveled to the three nearby cities, each a few days or more riding by horse.

Tamrie had come to like Sidea, and sometimes envied her, and even her way with food. To Tamrie, Sidea was different and strange, as if she was not meant to be in a place like the ‘Prideful Lion’. Tamrie considered her beautiful, despite being made to wear long thick dresses, and even a bonnet of black and white. It was said to be what her kind wore. Tamrie never quite understood what Samson or Mira meant by ‘her kind’. To Tamrie’s eyes, Sidea was a tall woman, thin, but not weak. Her form seemed to hold, or maybe even hide some sort of strength. Her skin was a dark brown color, one to which Tamrie could not even properly think of a proper name. She had at first thought the woman was part tree because there were what was called darkwood trees. The trunks of these trees were so dark brown, they seemed capable of hiding in the shadows of forests. Some people even claimed they held dark spirits locked away in them, and if you were near them for too logn you would become fouled with evil. Though, this was as close to a resemblence as Tamrie could think of, she felt it wrong to co0mpare the woman to something considered so dark and evil. Her eyes were dark brown like her skin, her hair, black, like the night sky and curly.

What usually caught Tamrie’s attention was Sidea’s smile and the glint in her eyes she could see from time to time. This together always seemed to have her radiate peace and kindness. There were a few times she could be found sitting under a tree enjoying a small bowl of food she would have for herself. While working chores, going between the Inn and the stables, or anywhere else, Sidea seemed to always catch her for a brief moment and smile. A smile, that to Tamrie, made her feel the woman spoke volumes, or even just a small private message.

‘Worry not child. There is more for you, and you will know it, when it comes.’

This would always make her day, seem just a little brighter.

When alone, and having trouble sleeping, she would imagine in her mind that Sidea would reveal herself as a princess, a lost warrior of a hidden race, or even a sorceress. At these times, she would smile as she imagined Sidea using magic to turn the large and sometimes frightful Samson into a small and helpless mouse, while his wife would be turned into a cat and sent to chase him. Only after which, Sidea would take Tamrie and they would share wonderful adventures. Leaving the little inn behind and looking to an unknown large world. A world where creatures could be free to fly through the sky like a bird, cities with spires that would scrape the skies, and various people of any color and height, from tiny red men called dwarves, to large blue men she called giants.

Pleasant dreams and sleep would find her soon enough until the next day revealed the same thing. Yet, for Tamrie, these were her own private treasures, for her to keep close.

The last woman, Breah, was only recently said to have become a woman as her figure, though usually hidden beneath her clothing was very curvy, something ti was said top attract men. She even said she was close to a young man, a farmers son beyond South Town. She would sometimes leave for a few days when it was slow like this to go and visit him.

Tamrie had found out, once by accident, where she actually went, as well as to why she was now only weeks latter, with a child.

The distraction was enough for Tamrie to sneak a glance at Samson, who would, himself steal a feel on the younger Breah.

A woman slightly shorter than Mira, with dark brown hair, light blue eyes, and a line of freckles that crossed over her noise, from one cheek to the other. Her figure was said to be slightly more curvy, or appealing than Mira, which none would dare speak this when the older woman was near.

Breah was the only one permitted to interact with customers other than Samson himself.

All in all the ‘Prideful Lion Inn’ had some of the greatest food any traveler would be willing to separate at least one gold from their pocket, and even more when their eyes and stomachs were filled. Even some of the sparse hunters would stop by trading a few furs for a few nights rest, and some meats of animals they were able to tackle in any surrounding wilderness.

This man who visited the Inn was for a completely different type. He was in fact a far traveler hired as a herald for a rich merchant who had recently made friends with the Duke of the lands. He wanted a stop at the ‘Prideful Lion Inn’ to sample the food before moving on to a neighboring rulers land.

He was to be expected at the fall of the sun. Additional word was that he had certain appetites that needed satiated, and many other patrons would surely visit bringing a hefty haul for the Inn.

Samson finished his deal with the man, with a hearty shake of hands, as his other hand pocketed the small bag of gold.

In his mind could be heard wheels turning over and over a single thought, ‘That little brat will finally be of use.’

The day continued on, the sun rising and sending away the early morning chill with it’s veil of fog. When it was high over head, and bright, it faintly resembled a bright yellow eye of a creature not of this world, as he looked down. The only difference was the two different sized red pupils.

His form was difficult to express and describe, as he was a mixture of various parts of creatures and animals. The form of space he was used to being a part of he considered his very own. His powers allowing him fun from time to time, despite the various headaches he gave to those around him. His form of fun and revelry was not truly intended as malicious, just harmless fun, that he could change or alter if he were in the mood.

Looking up from the world he had been seeing briefly, he looked across the table map to the entity that had some how brought him here without his knowledge, or consent. Of which he tried to verbally berate said being as he was in the middle of tea-time with a friend, and was secretly enjoying a fun little tirade of an angry white bunny, whose name did not match his personality have it out with an equally irate carrot. Tea-time was fun, but sometimes he just enjoyed livening things up with a show to go with his visits.

The character he had chosen, he could sense was not native to this world, the description and traits proved this when Discord looked over the information.

Name: Maxwell Hammond

Level: 2

Race: Human

H.P. 14

Alignment: None

A.C.

Class: None

St. 14

I. 15

W. 12

Cn. 12

Ch. 10

Dx. 11

Equipment: Weapon:

T-Shirt
Jeans
Hiking Boots

Spells:

Description:

Average Six foot height. Broad shouldered, Dark brown hair, dark green eyes, light skinned, slight muscular build, usually unshaven, but never a full beard. Hair falls naturally parted down the middle.

Background:

Maxwell lived on Earth with three women, each of whom knows him on a personal level.
These three women were not normal, as Earth was not their original home. These three were once powerful sea creatures from a neighboring world existing on a nearby plane.
An old powerful wizard had found the three had been corrupted and changed by three identical crystal artifacts. Through these, they became known as sirens, and with this new found power, they began to bring out the darkest, or hidden parts of others.
Time and trial, the sirens fell to the wizard, but he could do almost nothing more except to use a single final spell to banish them from his world.
Time came as they rose to power on Earth, using their magic to get what they wanted. Until they fell to a small group of girls, likewise enchanted in their own ways, by the powerful bonds of friendship.
From their fallen and defeated forms, the sirens attempted to flee to find what they had lost, when fate seemed to intervene. Maxwell, even younger then, had offered them his hand in friendship, the very thing which had defeated the three. Despite the uncertainty, they were alone and seemingly powerless. They gave this human’s offer of friendship and help a chance.
Despite the differences of the four, a powerful bond was formed, which only grew over time. Hardships came as obstacles that each was able to overcome.

Era of the Champion Kings
10th of the Christened Moon

Maxwell awakens near a dirt road, stolen from his life, all but the vaguest memories left as a haunting spirit playing in his mind. His mind assesses all he can think of, only his name, a familiarity of a world this is not, and a maiden of blue hair are all he has to go by.

Languages:

Common
Cultured
Computer

Personality traits:

Curious, headstrong, protective

Special Traits:

Equivalent to low level thief when sneaking
Potential intelligence may permit basic spell casting
Fluid mind - Can grow in whatever field chosen
Unique Mind - A form of thought and spirit has culminated in this individual. Potential to establish personal class only available to this individual, if discovered and pursued.

Not all of his power had been taken away, but, he could tell he was still only at a fraction of his former power. This entity that had stolen him, had obviously also stolen this world he claimed to have created, as well as these characters. He could almost see himself as being chained, and it grated on his mind that this thing had the gall to do such a thing to him.

Discord took a moment to take a breath and calm himself, he would just have to figure a way to take control of this situation and get back where he belonged.

In the meantime, this could also be a way to liven things up for him, depending on how much control he was permitted when the game began.

Tamrie fidgeted as she remained in the corner, watching as Mira continued on diligently. No expression could truly be discerned by the look on her face as she focused intently.

If one had the power to hear the mind of a woman such as she, they would hear the ranges of emotions flooding through her ranging from anger, to regret, and in some cases when thinking on what she had been told of what was to become of the child, she felt a form of jubilation.

True, the child had been beneficial when they needed the extra help but didn’t want to spare the coin. Now, she would no longer be their burden, she would be someone else’s problem. On top of which her husband had already received incentive, with promise of more, if none knew of the child and her destination.

A few more minutes of sewing, before Tamrie was called over. Once the dress was pressed against her shoulders, Mira took a moment to analyze the fit the best she could. Once finished, Mira nodded and got to work again.

Once more, Tamrie felt herself embarrassed. First was the cold bath she had been practically thrown into with soap that stung her eyes, brushes which had previously been used on horses were now used to scrub her clean. Now she had to deal with this, the small pins still in the dress, scrapping and sticking against her skin as the dress was moved over her head and down her body.

Once the dress was fitted to her, and the pins were slowly, agonizingly removed, the left her alone in a small closet in the kitchen with nothing more than an apple to eat, a stool with an old well used pillow, and a promise of pain should she utter a sound.

Alone, in the dark, Tamrie sat there on the stool, eyes cast down on the floor, though nothing could really be seen. At least, nearly nothing, there was a small crack in the door, which only permitted her a small view of the kitchen in the soft light of a single candle across the way.

When she got hungry, she ate the apple, which barely was enough to quiet her stomach.

Thin walls allowed the sounds and smells of others to drift in and out of the small space. The smells of cooking meat, pheasant, boar, and multiple stews of vegetables and spices, as Sidea could only make them. It was enough to make her mouth water, and a small rumble shook her with fright for a moment. Tamrie worked to press her arms against her stomach as she remained as silent as possible. To take her mind off of the smell of food, she tried to focus on other things.

Of course, with her being in the dark for as long as she had, her nose seemed capable of picking up even more, just as her ears began to separate different sounds as well. There were other smells, such as the stench and tang of sweat of so many bodies moving about so close together, the bitter smell of the brown liquids, Samson always called a man’s drink, but what caught her attention was a smell that seemed pleasant, but so different from so many of the others.

It was strange, and alluring, distracting her and seemed to tease Tamrie’s nose as the scent seemed to appear and vanish on occasion.

The consistency of the scent fading and re-appearing, Tamrie began to make a game of it, trying to match it to other scents her mind could remember, or even make up for the fun.

So much time passed, it took a few minutes before she realized that everything had quieted down in the common room beyond the kitchen.

Standing, Tamrie carefully approached the door where the small single crack gave her its limited view of the kitchen now cast in shadows, as the candle had burned down to a small strange pile of droplets of white, which ran over the edge of the holder which carried it, and the cooler wax had seemed to cool as it dripped over the edge of the counter where it had been placed.

The span of a few heartbeats, she stood there, trying to move her head and get a better view with one eye or the other, when sounds of booted feet seemed to approach rapidly.

In that moment, as well, she could hear Samson’s voice ring out in laughter and the sounds began once again. The door opened, and something in Tamrie’s mind screamed for her to run, to escape as something wasn’t right. Two large figures stood there, towering before her, blocking the door, and her only real escape.

Backing away, her body beginning to shake in fear, Tamrie only had one left thought of her own. She wanted to hide in the back of the closet, to become one with it, so that whatever was coming would be impossible.

The two men were quick as they saw her taking steps back away from them. One, who seemed older of the two with his large beard reached in, his hand grabbing her upper arm, his large fingers and broken nails digging deeply into her soft flesh.

Tamrie opened her mouth to cry out, but the other man grabbed her hair, and just as a shriek began to emit from her throat, something bitter and foul filled her mouth. The man held his hand over her mouth and nose, tilting her head back with his other hand that surely seemed capable of tearing her hair out. It took her mind a moment to realize he had stuffed some sort of bitter leaf and liquid into her mouth.

Her need to breath was overwhelming, as she had been frightened and caught by surprise. The two men had moved fast enough to stuff her mouth with more than enough of the bitwit medicine they had been given for this very job.

The younger of the two men, leaned forward, the stench of his breathe the last thing Tamrie was aware of before her eyes closed of their own accord, half of the bitter leaves and juice in her mouth already swallowed by accident. Her body seemed to collapse as she passed out, the two men collecting her small form, in her newly made dress and carried her out the back door of the kitchen.

As they moved quickly, they passed by a large pool of dark liquid which reflected the light of the full moon in their passing. A similar reflection could almost been seen in the dark empty eyes of a young dark skinned black woman who had thought to stop what was about to happen to the young girl. The skill of her ancestors fighting spirit, was indeed fierce, as she had incapacitated three men, who had already weakly made their way back to the coach to be treated for their injuries.

However, no matter how strong one’s resolve is, it pales in comparison to a poisoned blade shoved into the back by a woman who had helped bring her into the Inn and kitchen.

Indeed, the Prideful Lion would no longer be as famous as it had been previously, the unknown hardships of this greedy act by its two owners yet to rear its ugly head.

At the edge of the trees nearby, soldiers stood watch, acknowledging the two delivering the promised package. The two men quickly moved the small form to the carriage door and opened it.

Within at each corner of the roof were enchanted lights hovering within small glass and metal wire containers. The inside had been altered and enlarged from normal carriages to have one side with a wide comfortable bench with large pillows of the softest down, nestled within purple silk, the edge embroidered in gold, each corner closest to the door ended with a small tassel.

The other side, though was an moderate plush bed, covered in even more, though smaller pillows and cushions, a light sheer curtain at each side held by a light matching tie.

It was onto this bed that the child was placed upon. A young man approached with a bowl and a cloth. He began immediately, under the scrutinizing eyes of the soldiers, dipping and wetting the cloth in the water, which was littered with red rose petals and a fine light scented fragrant oil. He carefully washed her feet, legs, hands, and arms before backing away. Finally a small bag of similar smelling incense was laid nearby.

Once their task was done, the soldiers closed the door and returned to the post, awaiting their master to find his purchased package awaiting to be opened, and ripened in his own pleasures.

A little distasteful for some of them, but they were not here and given extra coin to be disgusted by their masters way of entertainment for himself, they were to ensure nothing happened, keeping all danger at bay.

There was still more than a score of miles to yet traverse before they could even begin to consider requesting a change of jobs, for those who were new, or not of the same mind as the master.

Hours passed before their master appeared from the Inn, his form wavering from the intoxication he enjoyed, though, as it always surprised him, once he was out of sight of the Inn, and within the light of the carriage did he seem to change. Despite the blush of the drink well marked upon his visage, he seemed sober, his eyes already assessing the stature of the men.

A stop before the commander of the soldiers, he was given the answer he wanted. His purchase was ready, as were they to move on. With a malicious grin, the slightly shorter, balding man, with a trollish squat face, and slightly larger frame turned and quickly moved to the door.

Stopping he turned to his driver, “Onward, let us leave this filthy shit house. I still wish to meet up with King Anquaff before the beginning of next week. To the rest of you,” he growled, as he turned to the soldiers, “you know I am not to be disturbed. See to it.”

With that, he opened the door and clambered in and closed the door immediately.

The driver looked to the commander and nodded, all knowing it was time to move on. The crack of the whip and the sounds of struggling hooves, the carriage lurched forward, the commander, and his remaining men, three of which had been lost this night as with their injuries they would slow them down.

“I’m, sorry, you what?” The man asked.

“I follow the carriage, and don’t stop at the Inn. I have, or I should say, my character has already looted the corpses of the fallen soldiers for what is needed, and I follow the carriage.”

The man sat there, the look of his face seeming to hold shock and disbelief, eyebrows raised, crinkling the brows below a slight receding line of brown hair with a few well maintained wisps of gray. The robes he wore reminded Discord of some of the monks he had once come across in the Neighponese mountains. Simple hoof, or supposedly in this situation, hand stitched cloth which was to represent humility and more, seemed a mere farce in this instance.

Discord looked down at the character sheet he had, and noted how the added items faded in, to their proper designation.

Weapon:

3 daggers

Short sword

In addition to this, he smiled seeing the appearance of a new line,

Gold Bits: 70

It was a good start, as the three men had not yet to have been robbed of all their belongings to which some was hidden, though a quick enough check would have benefited others, it seemed they didn’t care. So, it was, in Discords mind, going to a good cause.

With a shrug, the man continued, “Very well. So, what do you wish to do from here?”

“Stop the carriage, of course. My character moves with haste, not spell, just dexterity, to get ahead before they get a good speed going. The soldiers seem to be mere footmen, who are accustomed to a good pace. My character has decent movement and speed with his stats, though I doubt he would be able to keep up for long once they get a good pace.”

The man smiled and clapped his hands, “As you wish, my dear friend. You seem to have caught a grasp of this game already, and with so little of the rules explained.”

“Well, what can I say? I’m flexible.” Discord stated, as he stretched his body into a pretzel knot, where a small salt shaker appeared. It dissipated quickly though, before he had a chance to continue.

“It seems. So, your character moves through the trees, just beyond the vision of the guards; I take it, you still wish to remain as you arrived?” He asked, Discords nod enough for him to continue, “And just before they are able to get into a good pace, in the next-” He grabbed a dice, and rolled it. It was a small six sided die, its colors a dark blue, with black spots, and red swirls which added to its array rolled over the table, remaining well above the clouds, and the portion of the world that had been zoomed in on. With the light of the moon, and the few lights the soldiers carried, Discord, and the other man were able to see the group and the carriage well enough.

The six sided die bounced along before spinning on a corner and falling onto a two.

“Ah, well it seems it won’t take but two kilometers more before they are able to catch their pace. Now, you character has gotten a few yards ahead of them, what will he do?”

Discord closed his eyes, and lifted his talon claw to clear his throat before he opened his mouth to speak, a twenty sided die appearing in his lions paw.

“I attack.”

As the twenty rolled along, a nice clear light blue with golden specs trapped inside of the die, it’s numbers a nice soft silver color, it sounded almost light thunder in his ears, and Discord privately thought about forming a prayer, though he and his host were the only ones who would hear it. Though, it would be nice to have Tia, or even Lulu here.

His eyes opened and then widened, as his devious mind began to churn out multiple things at once as he thought more upon this, and the die landed.

Those around the carriage heard a faint grunt, and were surprised to see the carriage lurch slightly as though running over an animal. A few seconds passed as the horses seemed to suddenly buck and jerk their heads, the reigns falling to their hindquarters, free of their master and his whip they began to move as they wanted, even with the heavy load they were still pulling.

The carriage moved back and forth, as the horses attempted to go their separate ways, but were still connected to the carriage.

Swearing from within the carriage could be heard, and the commander rushed to the seat to chew out the driver, only to see it empty.

Calling out, he had another man rush up and climb aboard the seat, though it took a few tries as his foot had slipped slightly from fresh spilled blood unseen in the dark.

Grabbing the reigns the soldier jerked on them just as they were coming to a turn which held a small lip of dirt to remind those of the potential danger of wheels being damaged or broken should they miss the road.

As the carriage came to a halt, the horses snorting and crying out wanting to continue their run, the commander turned to his men.

As he turned, a shadow seemed to rush out from the tree’s, flying through the air, hitting the back of one of his men, landing him roughly on the ground, and two more falling to their knees, familiar red handled daggers sticking from their throats.

“I call balderdash!”

Discord looked up, a simple smile on his face, “Oh, do you? You saw the rolls, the eighteen for the first dagger. The nineteen for the jump, the sixteens, back to back for the dagger throw, and this one is a twenty, pure and simple.”

“Still, what is your characters class? Traits? Spells, abilities? How are you able to pull this off?”

“Oh? Didn’t you look over the character sheets before starting the game? Why, I do have a special trait where I can move as a low level thief, if desired. You saw that proof, the rest was a sequence of lucky, very lucky rolls. Honestly, this is why I’m not permitted in Las Pegasus anymore.” Discord explained with a simple satisfied grin and shrug of his shoulders.

The other gave a huff and waved a hand for the game to continue.

The shadow that emerged from the trees seemed to vanish as it moved into the trees on the other side of the road.

The commander called out to his men the signal they were under attack. The remaining eight on the ground, the commander, and the man on the seat where the driver had been all turned their backs to the carriage, weapons drawn now, as they peered into the darkness.

The sound of something hitting metal to the other side, signaled the commander, moving he saw the men still standing looking into the trees, swords raised.

“Just a stone, sir.” Came the report of a man who looked pale with fear.

“Stand firm. It was just one that I saw. He is trying a ghost tactic, making it seem as though there are more.”

Another die roll, this time, Discord was the one who frowned at the outcome.

“Ah!”

A voice screamed from the other side, the commander once more running to the other side. A man was down, back on the dirt, struggling with his feet partially under the carriage. The men who had been by him had stepped back, one with a torch was quick to spot something and threw the torch down.

A yelp emitted and the commander, smiling, grabbed at the figure who was now rolling out from under the carriage to put out the flames that had caught his clothing.

The commander and the man scrambled with each other, one rolling over the other a few times.

The figure seemed to win out with strength as he had gotten atop the commander and began using the back of another dagger, grabbed from the fallen soldiers pants.

The men went to their leaders rescue after a few hits, dragging the man to his feet.

The commander stood, wiping his face, and spitting a glob of blood onto the road.

“What in the hell is going on out here?” Came thew voice of their master.

“Sir, it appears a highway man attempted an attack on us, but we have it well in hand now.” The commander reported.

The master turned and squinted his eyes at the commanders face, then over to the man in simple but strange clothes.

“What’s the damage, aside from your broken nose?”

“A few of my men fell to his blades, as well as the driver. Haymin knows how to drive the horses, though. He can replace your driver.”

The master stepped down from the carriage to get a closer look at the brazen thief. Behind him, the sight of a young girl in a tousled bed and dress, seemed to alight something in the man.

Slipping his wrists with a twist, the man easily got out of the grips of two of the soldiers and dropped faster than they could react, and tripped the men where he grabbed their weapons and stabbed each man without aim before moving on to the next man. As fast as he was, it was difficult to follow as he moved, enraged now beyond comprehension to these soldiers.

The next man he approached, after seeming to avoid the master at first had attempted to pull his sword to spear him, but was rushed instead. His arm was jerked away from its home at the hilt of the sword where the arm was yanked up, hit at the elbow with a sickening crack, before the man moved leaping into the air. His legs wrapped around the mans head as his body seemed to fall towards the earth, pulling and twisting, a second snap was heard as both bodies hit the ground.

The man that was attacking let out a roar as he finished removing the sword and now rushed at the vile thing which stood before him.

The master, now in fear from seeing what was no longer human, but obviously some night demon yelled and moved to get away, tripping over one of the bodies.

Fallen to the ground, the master continued to back away, waddling with his fat body, screaming, “Save me. Stop this thing!”

A click, an echo of a loud crack, and smoke filled the air. The body of the thing before him, was hit by a bullet from the soldier at the seat, one of their few, additional weapons, was a small hand held musket gun, one of only four, each with only a single shot used for an emergency of the gravest.

The man seemed to fall back a little, taking a moment to check the wound as others surrounded him, the commander taking no chances and tackling him to the ground.

Another struggle, the man seeming to have another surge of strength, yet the commander was able to hold him down, using his fingers to dig into the wound he found. The ball must have fallen out, as small rocks and dirt had blasted the man’s flesh and left a burn mark upon a shoulder.

The commander turned the man over when he though he had him and called for rope and chains to hold the man.

As the man was rolled over, the commander turned away, he missed one thing. A light of the man’s eyes as he sat upon him.

A hand smacked the commander in the face as he called out again. A sudden explosion of heat and light emerged from his hand, knocking the commander back. Standing, the man stood from the ground, his eyes still strangely lit from whatever power made his hand glow, and he approached their master. The other soldiers quickly backed away, unsure of what to do.

Reaching down, he grabbed their master and the light in his hand seemed to engulf the large squat man, and continued to grow, nearly blinding anyone looking.

When it cleared, their master was gone, a large black silhouette of his body in the ground.

The remaining soldiers began to run in the opposite direction, screaming demon as they fled.

The light in his eyes faded, and Max fell to his knees, his strength nearly completely gone. He remained there, trying to breath, sweat falling down his face and body, his eyes finally rising to view the carnage that seemed to be of his own hands.

He was still tired, from whatever happened, he couldn't explain it, and he felt tired. Turning he looked into the carriage and shook his head in disgust. He had hoped when he realized what was going on that he had not acted too late.

As he struggled to reach his feet, he heard a small cry from inside, he moved over to the still open door, and found the girl huddling in a corner. When he appeared, the girl seemed to jerk back out of reflex, until she was able to get a good look at him. Realizing it wasn't the same ugly man as before, she still seemed hesitant.

Max held his hands up, showing he had no way to hurt her, "It's okay. He won't hurt you anymore. I'm not here to do the same. I just want to help you, is there someplace else I can take you?"

He stood there, hoping and praying, doing all he could to fight the tears. He knew the possibility of being too late, as many in his past had been too late for him as well. Something he would never speak to another about.

"He didn't hurt me... not yet."

A feeling of happiness erupted into his chest, but his mind began to halt it, fighting it back, 'she may not know what you mean.'

Max slowly held a hand out to hear, palm up, "I don't want to hurt you, I promise. Maybe I can get you someplace, a home where they will take you in, and care for you.But we have to hurry, I don't know how long it will be before more come." He pleaded with her.

Still she would not approach, as she looked at him. It took a whole another minute.

For Max, it was a long frightful minute of uncertainty, as she didn't seem to want to trust him, and he couldn't blame her.

Finally, she moved, slowly, turning around and crawling towards him. Max remained as he was, fearing a single movement might be taken the wrong way. It was also taking all of his strength of will to keep from passing out.

Tentatively, the girl reached a hand out to his.

Max looked at her arm, and his eyes widened, in a nearly fresh rage as he saw the bruises on her arm, but he held himself as still as possible as she reached her hand to his. Once her hand was in his, Max raised up slightly, a sorrowful look on his face.

"Here, just take it easy, little one, I said I don't want to hurt you, and I mean it. I want to get you away from here, away from these men."

With a nod, she moved further and began to step down from the bed. Max offered his other hand to help her, but the way she shied , he could tell she didn't want to be touched, so he nodded and pulled his hand back to allow her the time she needed.

As she climbed down, and out of the carriage, Max looked over, "Do you know how to ride a horse?"

The girl shook her head, "Well, believe or not, I was born and raised on a small farm, and when I was a boy, I had a chance to ride a horse. I'll help you." He walked her over to where the horses remained, impatiently stamping their hooves.

As he began, he untethered one of them, before he decided to free the other and send it on its way.

"My name is Max, by the way," he told the girl, hoping to get her to talk a little more. As he worked, he noted the silence that followed, and glanced back to see the girl standing there, with her head down.

'This is going to be a while, I guess. Fine mess you found yourself in, Max.'

He didn't mention anything about his actual first time riding a horse ended disastrous with him falling under in the saddle and nearly being bludgeoned, or trampled. He continued to work, slowly figuring out how to prep the horse, and fortunately there was no saddle to help him with this one, he would have to bareback it. Hopefully he could keep the horse at nothing more than a steady walk at first until he became accustomed to the ride.

Holding the reigns, he looked back to the girl, who was now standing there and looking back down the road they had come from.

"Is that where your home is?" he asked, hopefully. If they had kidnapped her from her parents, maybe he could get her back to them.

"No, Samson and Mira don't like me." With that, she began to walk over to him.

It was then, Max realized she was barefoot, surely walking like this was uncomfortable, "So, uh, Samson, and Mira, aren't your parents?"

She shook her head.

Kneeling down, to look her in the face, Max began to speak the first thing he could think of, "Whatever you have been through, I am sorry. But don't let this get you down. Life can be hard, sometimes, but there is a better and bigger world out there. You can, and you will find people who can care for you, and love you as any child should be. I can't do much for you, but, I would like to help you find that place where you belong."

With that, she nodded and allowed Max to help her up to the horse. He stood there for a moment, before returning to the stagecoach and grabbing one of the blankets. It was the best he could do to make this comfortable, at the very least, for her. Setting it folded over, he had her sit back on it and hold the mane of the horse lightly, but still firmly.

"I'll start by walking with the horse for a little bit. Just stay there, I'm gonna go slow for starters, alright?"

"You talk weird," she said as he started with the horse. He held a hand on it's neck for a few seconds, trying to show the horse he wasn't going to harm it, wanting it to trust him.

"I'll bet. I'm not from here," he explained.

"Tamrie."

"Tamrie?"

"My name, it's Tamrie. Samson never did like my name," she explained before going quiet again.

Max nodded, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth, "Well, it sounds like a good name, Tamrie. I like it. I like names that are unique, and I don't hear of girls with a name like yours all that much, if ever."

"What's Uki?"

"Uki?- Oh, Unique," Max was confused but for a moment before he realized what she meant, "Well, Unique, it means, something, or in this case, someone who is rare, or one of a kind." He looked back at her to see her smile.

'You may be unique, but you sure as hell are strong. Not a tear, for all of this. I truly, truly hope I wasn't too late in helping you. But I can still tell you have been through a lot anyways.'

Max continued on, Tamrie on the horse, he walked until he staggered and the sun began to rise over the horizon. To him, it was another world where the sun circled another Earth. To Tamrie, the Gods were bringing the sun up over the edge of the world to give them another day.

They stopped to rest, taking the horse into an thinner part of the forest. There, Max tied the reigns of the horse to a broken log. He leaned against a tree, after ensuring Tamrie was comfortable on the blanket he set on the ground for her. He made her promise not to go anywhere for her safety, and if anyone should be nearby, she was to wake him.

After her promise, he leaned back, closed his eyes and began to sleep, there he began to dream as well. A dream of a young woman with a beautiful smile, and strange, but alluring blue hair.

Despite his hosts displeasure, he didn't show it this time. Discord smiled, "It would seem from the adventure during the night, my character gained a level."

"So it would seem, and even some power. Does it say anything on the character sheet?"

Discord looked down, the words had begun to appear, but then faded when Max had stopped the assault after killing the rich merchant to rescue the girl. The only thing that did remain was an alignment: Neutral good. One he would normally consider boring if he didn't know its true form, and Max seemed set on the path now.

"How about we take five, and enjoy some refreshments?" Discord looked up at his hosts suggestion and smiled in agreement.