A figure, cloaked by not only cloth but the shadows around him, sat huddled around a small tombstone with scattered bones before him. His eyes closed as his mouth parted to utter a simple spell that would arrange those bones scattered before him in a way that would show him his next destination.

The last time Argantes Moloch Quinqu had sought answers about his future it had lead him here, to a tomb stone that bore his own name, as if he had died when only six years young. Once he had seen it, he remembered the day he was cast out from his home by the surrounding villagers. Shunned because of the mixture of Demonic and Atani blood coursing through his veins.

Beside the tomb stone that commemorated the death of his humanity was his mother’s who, shortly after watching her only son be thrown out to the wilderness, was murdered by a few men calling her “tainted”. He had not known of this act until he returned to this place, seeking a future where his blood and appearance had no bearing.

That night, long ago when he was conceived, his mother had been walking through a small patch of woodland to her familie’s cabin after a hard days work at the pub. She was confronted by a pointy eared, dark skinned man with crimson hair as she passed. Argantes had never known what his father looked like, but it was apparent that he looked similar to what he looked like now.

He began to talk, rambling on about nothing what so ever, until she realized that he was getting closer. When she tried to pass, he stopped her, getting closer and closer. He grabber her arm, and under the veil of night he forced himself upon her and disappeared into the night. She sobbed until morning, when she was found by her father. She told him that she was mugged and was to scared to move, leaving out the rest. She returned home, only to find out that she was pregnant a month later.

Argantes was born nine months after than, dark skinned just like the demon she saw that night. She hid his existence from the rest of the village like her father told her to, but secrets that big could never be kept for long. People asked questions about her absences and she was eventually fired from her job at the pub. Then, her son was cast away and she was killed for harboring a demon child.

Dunimir looked at the pale length of white steel in his hands, which shifted and changed, now like a spear, now like a long pale knife. Long he had tarried in the land of the dead, in search of his fallen father, to bring back this weapon, the soul-steel.
Now, hearing a noise, but seeing nothing, Dunimir stopped, for he could hear the incantation of a spell, spoken with skill, and sharp instinct. "Hail stranger!" He called out. "I am Dunimir, son of Boradan. I know the spell you are using. There is a saying in my family. Taking counsel with a friend, is almost as much use. I have a camp nearby."

Argantes quickly pulled his hood farther over his face, concealing his demonic eyes, dark skin, and crimson hair from the approaching man. He hesitated, feeling that if he were to converse with this man he might reveal too much of himself and risk attack. Argantes felt also that his mere dagger would never suffice in a fight against a man wielding a most unusual weapon. The only real choices he had were to either talk and risk it all, or try to get away from the man.

Remembering the scroll hidden within his cloak, he thought about the affects his spell of fear might have on another person. What would they see that could be so frightening when such a spell was cast? Or could his own appearance be enough to frighten said warrior so that he might escape into the night?

“Dunimir, son of Boradan, I wish no ill feelings. I would have you leave me in peace for the knowledge of my name might cause you ill feelings towards me.” He said as he pushed the bones out of formation, hiding the future he had cast. If this man new the spell then he might know how to read the bones as well, and that could be disastrous for Argantes. He sat with his black eyes peeking out at Dunimir, waiting for a response.

The lightless fields shivered and breathed, a wind that could not be felt yawned amongst the headstones. Far away things could be heard as if nearby. The scuttling of a mouse was transformed by the queer echo into the marching of a ghost army. Ragged clouds passed before the eye of the moon, and Dunimir, seeking to speak with this being, considered what words of truth and trust he could speak.

Dunimir felt sadness like a crushing blow in that voice, and his brave heart was aflame with compassion. He had heard that tone of voice only from men in the moments before their death, and from the elves, who at once reside in both realms.
In his hand the soul-steel, Mincalagon, turned to a pipe. "I have a pipe, and tobacco aplenty. I am weary, and filled with grief. My own nightmares keep me from sleep, for I should never have been a soldier. But I am, and go to war again all too soon. So whatever hellish thing you might be, I can hear in your voice, the one you used to incant the spell, that you mean me no harm. But then, mayhaps you truly do want to be left alone; in that case, go well, and may all the blessings of my House go with you. You have a long road before you, and much confusion in your heart.
"May I be so bold as to offer you just one word of advice?"

Argantes heard his words and the compassion within his voice and thought to himself. “Perhaps this lone wolf life of mine could use the advice of another.” He turned to Dunimir, lifted his hood, and revealed his face. Black skin and even blacker eyes appeared from the shadow of his cloak, accented by blood red hair running down the center of his head from front to back. The sides were shaved down to the ebony skin of his body. He opened his mouth slightly, holding back the gruesome visage of jagged teeth as he spoke.

“I shall hear your words of advice, and mayhap in return I could show you where your next step lies.” It was a fair trade, he thought, for the kindness Dunimir showed his monstrous self. Any other would have drawn sword or turned tail. Argantes stood from his kneeling position and walked slowly towards Dunimir, intrigued by the smell of his tobacco.

Dunimir would have welcomed a ring-wraith for want of company that night. He shook the demons' hand, trying to conceal the dark mark on his hand that wound like a root up his arm, and pointed out the direction of the camp.
At first he struggled to think of what to say, for in his mind was the keen memory of having to battle with the undead body of his father for possession of Mincalagon. They found the fire still aglow with embers, which Dunimir kept low, not wanting to shed too much light on their meeting. If they were still companions at dawn, then Dunimir would see the demon in full detail. But in his heart he could hardly imagine the demon wanted or needed more than the company of the night. He felt as grateful as a younger-brother to the demon for even that.
One thing that the land of the dead did not lack, strangely, was birds to snare. Dunimir had roped six quails over the day, which he carefully boned for their meal. Mincalagon took the shape of a slender boning knife for the purpose, and in a moment all the rib-cage and entrails were tidily removed. "Do you like the sweet-breads?" Dunimir offered over the entrails.
They roasted the quails slowly over the fire, and for a time Dunimir mostly spoke of himself, and of his father, whose memory had been damaged by the weird battle that had just taken place. And it was good to recall happier days, and the honourable man that had been Boradan. "His name meant Steadfast-smith. He wrought Mincalagon out of his own hopes and dreams. But doing so opened a dark door inside him. Though he weilded this holy weapon all his life, the darkness spread inside him. When he died, he was animated by the shadow within him. 'I have wrought hope for men that will resist tyranny, but I have left no hope for myself.' Those we fathers last words. I swore to put it to an end, and to reclaim his honour. But I had to take the shadow upon myself. Now I am in the same position he put himself. I feel it, friend, I feel the darkness inside me, like a draught of fiery liquor. It is not cold, it burns, it would happily fill me with strength and power if I allowed it. I hold it inside me like a guilty conscience.
"What does my name mean? Dunimir is to say 'The Jewell of the West'. It is an old name, from when the tongue in which my name is spoken was used openly. Now there are few who remember it. And I don't suppose I will ever sire an heir to pass the tongue on to. My days are shadowed, I no longer see my destiny, or perhaps I am no longer confident which path I should choose."
Dunimir suddenly laughed, if a little grimly. "Did you notice what just happened. I was the one to offer you advice, and here I am, slowly building myself up to ask advice of you! Mind you, I have never heard the old tongue spoken more beautifully in a long time. I wonder who taught you to speak the spell so exquisitely. No don't tell me. Not at night at any rate.
"I was going to offer you a word of advice: well, here it is, for what little it is worth, for I am not wise: my father was wary of scrying the future with bones, not that he didn't do it at need, because he had a belief. 'If you look for your future in something that is dead, it will not bring life to your future.'"

Dunimir blushed, then, concerned that he had spoken too readily, and had made himself appear naieve, and a fool. But looking back at the demons' face, and into the black eyes, he did not feel so bad. There was honesty there. He didn't think the demon scorned him. He smiled awkwardly. "The quail is ready."

Argantes listened to Dunimir reminisce about the days long gone, and heard well the meaning of his name as well as his father’s. He tried, hard as he might, to remember what his mother had told him about his own name, and then he relayed the thoughts to Dunimir. “My mother, when I was very young, told me of the meaning of my name and a curse that it brought to me. She was told, by the rouge demon that sired me, to name me as such; Argantes Moloch Quinqu. She obeyed only for fear of her own life. The name undoubtedly haunted her, for I remember when she spoke of it to me, she shivered in fear. I do not know for the life of me what it represents, but I believe it to be the cause for some of my...” He paused, looking straight into the eyes of Dunimir to relay the utmost seriousness. “Unusual talents.” He looked at the scattered bones, still laying about the makeshift campsite, with his own tombstone within sight.

He told Dunimir about his exile, the death of his mother, and the presumed death of himself. He told him of a man that cared for his mother, both of which he could not remember their names. He was sent one night to kill her son, but instead told him to flee the village and never return. Most likely the man covered the disappearance of the half-demonic body with a tale only ignorant villagers would believe. Such as the body turned to ash and blew about the land, killing the foliage and animal life.

After speaking about his own past, he heeded the words of Dunimir about telling the future by way of the dead, replying with a haunting speech, “All my life I have been surrounded by death. As I know it must be hard for one such as you set on justice and holy weaponry, my skills are honed from the dead. I am a Necromancer. Since birth I have heard the voices of the dead and learned from them still. My ability to see the future has come from them, and the more I speak to them, the more I learn about Necromancy. I have almost learned to control the undead, but I am still young, you see. I know that my unholy existence must disgust you, as you are one who seeks to destroy the darkness, but I am one who bathes in it.”

Argantes paused to draw his dagger and pierce the body of a quail from the fire, pulling it back to his mouth to rip into the flesh with his horrid teeth.

Dunimir shrugged and passed over another quail.

"No, friend Argantes, sorry, is that the proper use of your name, or should I say it in full, correct me if I have wronged you. I do not fight the darkness. I seek only balance. I fight tyrnanny. In many cases the light, in the name of "what is good" has been the cause of much of the ongoing struggle. Take the Mincalagon here. With all the intent of crafting something holy, and good; a terrible evil has been made by the same stroke. See this mark? Gradually it will spread, and eat me alive, bone and flesh alike. Anger and rage only makes it spread faster. I will go to war again soon, but not for the light or the dark."

Dunimir pulled back the sleeve of his right hand, to show the livid black roots that stretched a small way up his arm. The moon broke free of the clouds overhead so that Dunimirs' pale skin shone white, and the mark, ever so dark. He grinned, trying to look wiser and braver than he felt.

“My name is Argantes, Moloch and Quinqu are surnames, like that of normal Atani families. Although I think each one has it’s own curse upon me.” Argantes spoke with a gentle tone, something that none would suspect from his wretched appearance. “I do not like to choose between the light and the dark either, my friend. Although I draw my power from it, the darkness does not consume me. What dictates my decisions is my own survival.”

Argantes looked upon Dunimir’s arm, seeing the evil that crept up his skin. He wondered, as he looked up the decaying flesh of his arm, if there were a cure somewhere in the world. A devious thought also crossed his mind, with the mention of his inevitable death, Argantes wondered what it would be like to command a warrior such as him after he had passed on. The thought would have been frightening to any other, unless they were as twisted in the mind as Argantes.

“Perhaps there is a cure,” Argantes started, then smiled and said, “If not, mayhap your skills and weapon could be used in the after life.” He mused, only joking of course, but the thought was still fresh in his mind.

Dunimir smiled. "Keep in touch then." He said, and laughed easily.

In the mean time the night was growing old, and the day new. The first light had yet to show properly on the horizon, but the fire was dying down. "Friend Argantes, where have the bones bidden you go next? Pardon me for inviting myself: but mayhaps, if you will have me, I could accompany you a while. You say you are young, but there is wisdom in you. I sense there is much I could learn from one such as you, and I take back what I said earlier. You do not seem so confused at all. I repent of the words. Maybe I could learn to live with my darkness as you have done. And in return I can keep you well fed, this was a poor meal by my standards."

Dunimir stood and stretched, and passed over the Mincalagon pipe, tamped now with fine weed. "Looks like a chill day approaches! But a swift sunrise, a good day for a hard march."

Argantes stood, ready for the march ahead. He looked to the east, where the Taurai Woods were strewn out over the horizon, and beyond it the village of Estolad. “I am to go east, through that forest and to the village of Estolad, where my mother was murdered. The creature these bones once belonged to has told me that it had once seen a man there. The man that was once in love with my mother. I need to know about my past, and he is the only one that can tell me.”

Argantes pulled the hood over his head and turned towards Dunimir. “You may accompany if you wish, but be prepared. I have seen turmoil over the next hill.”

At the edge of the Forest a dark figure sat amidst the trees, watching the two men in silence. The figure was the half-demon/half-angel known as Kiesu yet unknown to most of Arda. He did not know the intent of these two men for he could only hear small fractions of the conversation emitting from the two of them. He made sure not to make a sound over the fallen leaves and made his way into a small tree to get a better view of the two men from a better hidden area. He could see that one man had wings hidden under his cloak because of the ruffles in the back of the cloak. He had taught himself to see the areas where the wings could show so he would not be figured out as easily amongst the mass population of various cities. The other being he could not figure out. He continued to watch in ssilence from atop the tree's branches.

They bore east, toward the rising sun, and Dunimir wandered here and there as opposed to Argantes, who walked directly, as if he knew the path well. For Dunimir had many pockets and loops under his cloak, where he tucked the wild sorrel, and herbs that he noticed along the way. He fell well behind Argantes at one point, tarrying beside the spring of a shallow brook to hunt out the rock-prawns he had a feeling would flourish there. Here he collected great hanks of watercress, and dug up wild potatoes.

Quite a way ahead of him now Argantes had made in his precise direction, so that Dunimir risked a little flight. He unfurled his cloak, and stood upright. For a moment he looked strained, for within his chest his flight heart was stirring from dormancy. With astonishing speed his body changed quite dramatically, for his chest thickened well over three times in depth, as the dormant flight-musculature was engrossed with the blood necessary to power his wings. His neck and shoulders thickened, so that his head looked disproportionate for a man, yet more the scale of an eagle. The great flight-heart, now that it had primed the flight-muscles to high pressure, gave its first true beat, this done the two eagle-like wings, only short but very broad, with thick closely knitted feathers, whipped and groaned downwards, so that Dunimir was borne into the air. He sped close to the ground until he had caught up with his companion, and with a single back-beat had broken his speed, and alighted on the ground as if jogging, throwing his cloak back in place with a practised movement. In his hands he held two rabbits that he had snatched as he flew.

"A good day for foraging!" He exclaimed, hlding up some of his booty. "We will eat a proper feast tonight!" Dunimirs' smile faded, he looked toward the woods, where the demons' sight was bent with a startling intensity. "What? What is it Argantes?" Dunimir took the Mincalagon in his right hand.

Drenkar Sat back in a tree behind Kiesu wondering what Kiesu was doing watching the two, but it didn't matter Drenkar was only here for one thing. Kiesu's head, as Kiesu started moving Drenkar followed close behind, jumping from tree branch to tree branch sticking right with Kiesu. That was until Drenkar underestimated a branch and it snapped, Drenkar quickly grabbed ahold of another branch, and sat waiting to see if Kiesu noticed.

Argantes walked a straight path directly east, towards an opening in the trees that lead to a path. Dunimir wandered about, but Argantes paid no attention. Something was wrong here. The danger was unclear, but it was there. The bones had told him so. He worried about what might face him and his new friend in the forest, but little did he know, he was being watched that very instant.

Argantes soon stopped, waiting for Dunimir to catch up to him. A new development in the man came about, however, when he revealed that he had wings and an eagle like appearance. Argantes turned to his comrade and spoke softly, “There are others among us. I do not know if they mean us harm, but we should do well to be ready.” He paused for a moment and then asked, “What happened to you just now?”

Kiesu heard the branch snap behind him bit did not turn his attention away from the two unknown travelers. after a minute or two he spoke with a low ghost-like voice to Drenkar "Is my life worth so much to you that you would risk your own life?" He moved a branch ahead as he continued to speak "They could kill you the very second they realize your here." He readied his dagger for an attack under his cloak. He waited until Drenkar decided to make his move and he jumped out of the trees with his dagger in his right hand, he landed several yards from the two travelers as he took a battle-ready stance twards the forest.

Drenkar swung from the branch and landed right infront of Kiesu with his dagger in hand,"After what you did to me you bet im going to risk my life." Drenkar said as he got into his fighting stance waiting for kiesu to make the next move to engage the battle.

Dunimir blushed as deep red as a beet. He had thought he ha concealed his little secret. "I am not a... regular man. There has been a certain change wrought upon me, and all of my kin. We are the Thorondun, the Eagles of the West." He smiled awkwardly at his friend, perilously aware that he had betrayed any sense of trust in hiding something so critically important about himself. "I hide it because I am afraid what people think of me."

They turned their eyes to the forest. If Argantes sensed danger, Dunimir would listen. But he could see nothing. Not yet at any rate. "Friend Argantes. That way lies our only path. We have but one choice, to take that way, through what ever peril awaits us."

"We've been through this before Drenkar! I always get away with my life in tact!" Kisu shouted hoping to draw attention of the two travelers. "And there is no way that that is going to change this time!" He ran, keeping his distance away from Drenkar with his dagger ready. Whatever Drenkar was going to do, he expected it to be soon so he readied his dagger for any attacks.

(OOC: Hey! Stop skipping me in the posting order! If you want to fight post after post then start a new topic and dont try to take over mine! The posting order is developed as new people come into a topic, so the posting order is Argantes, Kiesu, Dunimir, and then Drenkar.)

Argantes reached into his robe, touching the scroll of fear he had obtained earlier in his life, and skillfully uttered the spell from his memory. An almost invisible wave of energy pushed out from him, causing all except Dunimir to be filled with unquestionable fright. Argantes turned to Dunimir quickly, his hood flying from his head as a result.

“Let us move, friend.” He said calmly in a dark tone. Argantes drew his dagger and moved towards the forest, ignoring the set path and running through the tree line. He did not turn to see if Dunimir followed, but he thought he might not have to.

(ooc, you're up Keisu)

In the corner of his eye as he was watching for any attacks from Drenkar, Kiesu saw one of the men Reach inside his robe and not but a moment later he was filled with fear, a fear he had not felt since he was young. The only thing that could ever bring such hideous memories back would be a scroll of fear, reaching deep inside of his mind he was overcome with the death of his mother, the angel from which he had gotten his wings. His mother's heart had been tainted by the world of the demons and went on a rampage. At suchh a young age Kiesu had to kill her to stop the death's of innocent people... and to save his own life.

He let out a blood curdling scream as he dropped to the ground with this fear once again coursing through his mind. He retreated into a fetal position as the horrid memory coursed through his mind, he though he would never have to feel this again, yet it still cut deeper than anything, the pain and the fear... He was completley defensless.

Dunimir steadied himself, as Argantes turned quickly, his hood flying aside, revealing ebony skin and scarlet hair. "Let us move friend." He said, and moved like a wind.

Dunimir felt he understood the fullness of Argantes words. "Stay close, but stay safe, and keep out of the way." He thought were the unspoken words.

And so he shadowed the demon as closely as he dared, aware that Argantes probably needed room to work his spells, and that he might not necessarily be able to shield Dunimir from the effect of all of them, as he had the spell of fear.

But he waited, at highest alert, to come to his friends aid, if it appeared aid was needed.

Drenkar was hit with Fear and began to visualize the night him and Kiesu were young children. They were playing in the woods when they were jumped by a Demon. Drenkar and Kiesu tried to fight back but they weren't strong enough, when Kiesu relized this he saw an opening, and ran away never looking back to see if Drenkar was ok. Drenkar was knocked down and the demon was about to jump on him,Drenkar took a sharp branch laying next to him, and as the demon was coming down the branch pierced the demon straight through the heart...

Argantes continued through the small opening, leaving the two strangers stranded, in fear for their lives. Argantes motioned for Dunimir to follow him into theTaurai Woods. "We must go. Our next destination is the village of Estolad. We must hurry before the effects of the spell wear off.

(OOC: Dunimir, after your post we will leave this thread and post in Taurai, ok?)

Dunimir stuck behind Argantes as if he was his shadow, intensely aware for any movement. The dark mark on his arm burned feverishly since the full effect of the spell had come in to play. Dunimir tore his sleeve to see it, and beheld that it had spread, and was smoking.

He would ask Argantes opinion on this, he looked up, realising he'd fallen somewhat behind. The demon moved like water rushing down the mountainside! Unable to take advantage of his wings in such close quarters, Dunimir gritted his teeth, and clattered after Argantes on hooves like iron.