It's a fair wage.. [anyone]

Brink crouched in the dark. The land was dead, grey weeds crawling up the remains of old brick and dead wood.

The skies here were grey, sunlight rarely ever broke through.

Brink grimaced as he sat back, and sipped on some of the last of his water. running a hand over his face, he felt an unfamiliar feeling - stubble and a recent wound. The dirt on his hand didn't matter - he hadn't been near clean water in weeks.

Why on Ziemia did this have to happen?!

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Three weeks previously, Brink had been in the far north, travelling. Finially, he had come to rest at a border-town, called 'Fareach' - one of the few towns in the northern lands left that still managed to survive the dark hordes.


That ended abruptly two weeks ago. In the middle of the night, the dark ones spread through to the south of the town, cutting it off. They then attacked, and in the ensuing madness, Brink had fought himself out into the wilderness. The town was burning by the time he made it to the closest vantage point, overlooking the bonfire.


Brink had started trekking south-west, to the Great Gate, the next morning. It was going to be a long journey indeed.

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The young man swung himself forward, standing unsteadily for a second before regaining his balance. Swinging his backpack around his shoulders, he stretched and started his walking.

He was tired. Very tired. While he had managed to stow some of the inn's food in his pack before he left, that hadn't lasted long. He had so far been lucky enough to find a small encampment of only two (or three, either way, they ended up charred) dark one's - effectively a free meal.

The last of the stolen food was going to run out with tomorrow morning's meal.
Goody...

-

It's incredible, really, Brink mused, that the sky never changes colour. How does it always stay in twilight..?
Quit rambling...
Hey! Not exactly much to do around here but trudge onwards.
Look up, moron.

Ahead were lights or torches or fires, smoke floating upwards - grey on grey - fading quickly into the colourless mass of cloud and fog.

-

He was close now. The smoke stung his nostrils. He'd dumped his bag near an old, crumbling house (or something, there was brickwork in a relative square...), and was now creeping closer to the groups. He could hear the common tongue, though the voices and laughter was rough and fairly brutal sounding.

Brink took off his gloves, and sparked a flame.

Time to get messy. he though, wryly. With a dark smile, and shadows across his face, he launched himself over a small wall and into the fray.

He let a fireball fly, shouting at the top of his lungs "Let's go, time to rock and roll, assholes!"

The fire crackled as the lads tucked into something small, furry, four-legged, and mildly charred.

Sargent Barry, a 32 year old guard with a beard which definitely WASN'T greying, as he continuously reminded the men, sat back on his chair with a sigh, pipe in one hand, a stiff drink in the other.

Going to light the bally thing, however, turned out to be rather more interesting than expected.
There was an awful lot of shouting, a clattering of metal as his men rushed to their arms, and a voice shouting something about rocks and assholes.

That was when the fireball flew directly under Barry's chin, lit his pipe, and singed his whiskers.

Pulling his long sword out of it's scabbard, he grumbled and jogged over to the encampment. There was a boy there, surrounded by ten of Armonia's finest.
However, the boy was clad in fire - a tad too much for the lads to handle.

"What's all the fuss about, lads?! Why on Ziemia's plains do I have no chin hairs, and who the hell is this flaming torch standing there saying he's sorry about the mix-up?!"

Jonathan, one of the men, span around, saluted, and said quickly,
"Dunnooo really, sir, this'n just leapt over the wall, hurled some fancy-ass magic, then set himself on fire and put his hands up.
Don't rellay under-stan' it meself!"

"Is that everything, Jon?"

"Well, Frank there managed to throw himself into one of the tents to dodge that fireball... (The sargent hrumffed about his lack of sacrifice, stroking the air near where half of his beard used to be. Frank tried to look properly ashamed.) ... and the lads have that'n surrounded. What'll we do, sah?"

"Well, the boy's lucky that he lit my pipe - couldn't get the blasted thing lit - so I'll hear what he has to say.

BOY!!! WHAT IN THE GOD'S NAMES ARE YOU DOING ATTACKING THIS COMPANY?!
Satisfied with his raised voice, he relaxed and sucked on his pipe. It tasted better than usual.
Not bad, kiddo.

brink looked a mite surprised as he landed in the midst of the regalia or Armonia.

King's troops, out here?! Shit!
He quickly allowed fire to form around himself, and backed up against the wall.
"Shit, shit, I'm so sorry guys, I really thought I was alone out here? Please? And please don't spike me, I didn't mean to attack you, I thought you were them!!!"

You're rambling...

I'm Brink, I studied in Armonia, I live on Bards' Street, And I'm so so SO sorry!!! please don't spike me!!!

((OOC: Didn't think you'ld mind me jumping in here... :3 ))

King Tyrannus had watched the city burn until the last smouldering piece of ash. He loved it, the feeling of hopelessness and terror as his troops destroyed everything they new; everything they thought was home and safe.
Seated atop of his magnificent black stallion, he couldn't help but chuckle as the night began to settle and the last sign of life within the city diminshed.

Yanking on the reins he steered his troops toward home. It wasn't often that he had the time to come on raids such as these, but every now and again he felt the urge for destruction. He took this opertunity to travel around his kingdom, sort of like an inspection.


His journey brought him crawling toward the gate. Troops, slow as they are, were definitely taking their time. While most deemed it unwise, the King certainly found it no trouble to wander off on his own. His soldiers and knights were definitely not far off, and definitely with in range of contact should he need them.... which was highly unlikely.

Trotting along, he noticed a small fire being lit. There was a scurry of activity, and then it was more or less silent.
Eyes narrowing, he approached, the heavy footsteps of his horse eventually slowing to a halt.


"By one of 'them', do you happen to mean one of me?"

OOC: Just thought I should let you know - Anthony (the guy who plays Brink) won't have access to the internet for another couple of days so he won't be able to reply. Probably should have mentioned it a bit sooner, sorry.

When he finally does reply, I shall remove this post and you can carry on rp-ing as normal.