Mysteria

Ovauzhar sat across from her, helping himself to a helping of mead that would leave a weaker man in a drunken coma but barely affected him. "You will forgive me, but word means nothing before action where royals are concerned..." 

"I came here to lay low..." He looked toward Cynder as he took another sip of his drink. "And to rebuild what was stolen from me by my former lord emperor..." He scowled as he broke his mug in a bit of anger in his palm.

Cynder's mouth tail stretched forward, licking up the broken glass and eating it in a minute. Cynder quickly tugged Zara back before thanking Bell for her service.
"I would've thought you would've made progress on that by now...did something else happen?" He asked Ovauzhar

Bell nodded in understanding.. Royals had once been trust worthy and well respected, but the power had corrupted most of what was a civilized and fair system.

She nodded politely at Cynder sipping thoughtfully from a scotch glass as she waited for the Reapers response. Intrigue her main expression.

"Times have been trying. I've been reduced to a mercenary where once I had command of entire legions..." He spit in disdain, as though the very word 'mercenary' left a vile taste on his tongue.

"As for you," He turned to Bell, "they were a stain upon the name of warrior. The Watcher of the Well surely wouldn't have tolerated another undeserved breath of theirs..."

Cynder remained silent, feeling as though there was a piece of this he was missing. A part of this story he didn't know about or understand.

She shrugged a little "I'm used to being hassled as an Ezuri by this point... I've had worse, but usually i have Merrick around to handle them. He's away for a while working out a new treaty.  I should have known better and disguised myself..but thank you. There's no telling how far they would have taken that."

"Least you aren't treated like an animal..." Cynder muttered, cringing as the images of being treated like a beast, a mindless creature, flashed through his mind.

The exhilaration was still ebbing away for him, combat being as alcohol was to a drunkard. "I needed them, I haven't had a good fight since I departed Diarmid..."

"I STILL haven't." He licked his lips, remembering the glorious battles that colored his past in red. 

One name stuck out to him though, "Merrick... I feel like I know that name somewhere..."

She looked to Cynder sympathetically "I'm sorry you've had to endure such hardships. No one should be treated in a degrading manner. It shows deeply how unintelligent others truly are." 

"And as for Merrick he's quite well known. My highest ranking guardian and most trusted advisor...when the last rebellion ended it was by his blade."

Cynder smiled graciously for her sympathy before furrowing his gray brow at the last part of her statement.
"Rebellion?" He asked curiously

Ovauzhar smiled in fond remembrance, "Oh yes. Back when I first promoted to general. Now those were the days..."

He looked at Cynder, "Years back, there was a rebellion where several of the realms split off and joined forces to try and take all of the realms."

"It didn't take very much for Diarmid to join. The promise of honorable combat that would live on through the ages and retribution for our gladiator ancestors was more than enough incentive to join..." 

"I personally gained many victories through it, but also my fair share of defeats..." He looked at Cynder knowingly. "I personally hold no grudges for any of them. If I lost, then the better warriors won. That's all there was to it, just as the Watcher teaches."

"'Defeat is only absolute if one has learned nothing from it'". He quoted from the sacred verses that adorned the cavern walls of their sacred well...

Cynder smiled lightly at his warrior friend. For a long time, Cynder had always thought battles to bit little more than ugly affairs where thousands of lives were lost. But after meeting Ovauzhar he found a certain liking in holding victories. Big or small. He wouldn't count their first meeting as a complete victory won only by him.
"You realize Jote helped in driving you out of Odaigra right? It wasn't just me."

Bell had awoken the next morning to the sharp sound of talons against the cold glass of the single window in the room along with a fiery burst of pain from her now wrapped arm to remind her abruptly of the attack the day before. She stood wiping the sleep from her eyes and popped the window open enough for the small black creature that closely resembled an owl to hop inside along the ledge. Once she freed the scroll from its short leg the smallish bird had hopped back out of the window taking wing into the early morning sun.

The silver haired royal paced the room she had occupied with Ovauzhar and Cynder the previous evening. A large glass of thick smoky liquid clutched tightly in her good hand. The pale scroll that had arrived this morning lay open on the hard marble table and had stains of what were clearly blood along the the left side of the peculiar written characters. She took a long thoughtful drink as her minded had turned though to it's final conclusion; Merrick was in trouble and she had to get to him as quickly as possible, but that would require protection given the state of her arm and her slower healing. Her footsteps could have worn a path in the hard stone floor by this point as she drank again waiting for the Reaper to emerge from the sleep quarters she had offered to him. She would ask him for his help. It was the only logical choice withj her best laying in one of the outer regions apparently bleeding to death after being discovered and hunted like an animal for the past week.

Strangely the bed he had been offered looked as though it had remained untouched throughout the night.

And where was the Diarmidian but laying on the hard floor. even in sleep his face was prideful. His heaving muscles and scarred bare chest was almost a challenge in itself. It was as though his rising and falling chest was a dare to anyone to attack him in his slumber.

His sword and armor were put to his side, with his sword close by his hands. The sword was quite an odd weapon. With a curved, black hilt, it was easy to think the weapon might be broken or poorly crafted. But the proportions of the rest of the weapon made it clear this was an intentional design decision. The blade itself was nearly as long as a man as heavy as an ifrits tusk. It had been reverently cared for and was clearly sharpened daily. The sword appeared to receive more care than the Diarmidians body.

The reaper woke up as soon as she entered the room, “you had the opportunity to kill me and claim my bounty yet you stayed your hand.” He commended as though it were a compliment to her integrity.

His abruptness seemed to finally pull her from the worrisome thoughts that plagued her " I don't need really need the reward offered for your head..not to mention I did give you my word" a slight smile flickered across her face momentarily though it faded just as quickly "however I do require your assistance if you think you'd be up to assiting me in retrieving Merrick? " anxiety traced her eyes again as she sighed a little pinching the bridge of her nose with her good hand " it seems a situation has arised where he's in less than ideal conditions.."

“Many are in less than ideal situations.” He was a prime example of this, to go from the youngest general in Diarmids history to a mere mercenary in under a few hours. A lifetime of honor stolen from him.

He would love nothing more than to be part of an honorable quest but he had his ambitions to achieve. Diarmid beckoned to him to claim it’s throne, but he had much power and resources to accrue before he could.