Caius adorned his cloak as he stepped out the door of his noble house’s manor. A thick grey cloud cover had rolled over Lomedor early in the morning, and now with the sun rise came a cold drenching rain. Caius quickly moved towards the carriage that would take him to the great hall of Lomedor to see the Council of Nobles. The servant opened the carriage door as he stepped inside and he ducked in sat down to stay dry.

“Good morning Lord Lucius. How is your father these days?” Lord Baldwin a wealthy Viscount of Lomedor greeted him inside as Caius took a seat inside the carriage. Baldwin wanted to speak on to Caius about today’s business for the Council of Nobles.
“He is doing fine, but you know how old age and rainy days are. He’ll most likely spend his day reading books by the fire.” Caius replied.
“I’m glad to see that you take his place for House Lucius on the council, your father deserves and early retirement.” Baldwin said.
“Yes… So tell me what is on today’s agenda. I’m sure it must be important for you to want to meet with me like this.”
“Of course.” Baldwin said and paused for a moment. “I wanted to speak to you about Nathaniel Rystoff.”
“The Warlock?” Caius said a tad bit surprised. “What are they finally going to pin him down for war crimes or something?”
Lord Baldwin had to suppress a chuckle. “Something like that. Apparently I’m not sure about the exact details, but I did want your opinion on the man.”
Caius shrugged. “It’s low at best. The guy is a human extremist and worked for a private army that raided small villages.”
“I see, I’ve heard of his dealings and his corruption.”
Caius nodded. “We will see soon enough anyways, we don’t even know what he is going to be there for, not until the bailiff announces it that is.”

The horse drawn carriage dragged on through the city. It took almost an hour to get to the Lomedor great hall. The roads had turned to mud making it hard for carriages and horses to travel and the trip drew out over a long period. Caius had fallen asleep while waiting in the carriage, tired from last nights watch duty he was on.

“Ex calce liberatus… Stella…”
“What?! Caius! Hey!” Lord Baldwin reached over and shook Caius to wake him up.
“Hey!”
Caius awoke and shook his head. “What?” He asked.
“You were mumbling stuff in your sleep.” Baldwin said. “Something about Stella.”
“Stella? What is Stella?”
Baldwin shrugged. “I don’t know… you’re the one talking in your sleep.”
Caius looked down at the floor for a second, “Its nothing. I’m just tired.”

The carriage had finally arrived. The two quickly exited the carriage and move swiftly inside the great hall. Caius and Baldwin as soon as they entered the hall took their seats, the Council of Nobles session was about to begin.

A broad shouldered man stood, somewhat hunched, in the center of the council. He'd been set in this humiliating place once before, and it had grown no better in the time that had elapsed. Large iron shackles enclosed around his wrists, the chain of which locked down into an iron bolt on the floor. The metal had a black look to it, though it was certainly not the strongest metal to be found in Arda. Nathaniel may have been renowned for killing others, but that did not mean his strength was any more than a mere man's. The floor was of a smooth wooden design, and was no doubt meticulously upkept via the kind taxes imposed upon the citizens. Many nobles were exempt from such crippling taxes, and enjoyed splurging their money. This building was no exception.

Grand murals and paintings decorated the place, all done in drab or dull colours to add to the seriousness of the place. The seats were set up in a semi-sphere, so that everyone had clear view and speaking ability. The powerful podium resting ahead was one of the most imposing features, along with the dark shackles some feet away from it. There was no chair, though if Nathaniel had asked very nicely he might have swayed someone to give him one. Way back when, anyways. Now he was simply met with contempt, distaste, or a simple disinterest. Those who knew of Nathaniel either loved him or hated him, and clearly it was the latter here. Those that didn't know him; numbering higher every day ever since he'd gone "underground", were happy in the ignorance.

What had he done this time? Nathaniel felt a childish wave of boredom overcome him, but it was ignored. After all the things he'd done recently he had no idea what he was being called in for. Actually, he was almost irritated by the fact he was trapped here. Hadn't he worked for those back alley elite, hadn't he suffered public humiliation so he could go around and take care of messes in the back alleys? He went around doing such things so that he could remain annoynomous and safe, and this was how he was repaid? Perhaps the tournament had been to public a choice, but how he'd needed that money! Besides, it wasn't as if anyone had openly recognized him, had called him by name until he spoke it. There was also the roughhousing he'd been involved with as of late, but that, too, had been understandable.

So what? The morlock massacre, as so aptly termed for those halflings offed in the alleys? He'd had a hand in some, but most of them had not been his work. The simple idiots of Lomedor killed their own far more than he did. He would have to hope that whatever it was they were incorrect, or else it did not thoroughly displease those who held power. Friends in high places only stayed friends so long, after all.

With an almost defeated sigh he shifted, head still staring down at the floor as he slowly twisted his hands. The metal was cold and hard, and offered no give to his wrists. If he was truly to pull them out he'd need to entirely shatter the bones in his palms. With absolutely no intentions of such a painful ploy for escape he instead opted for once more going still, resettling his arms in his bonds. How long did it take the nobles to get here? The carriage ride here had been so silent and lonesome he'd half expected that the entire thing would be over before he even got there. Perhaps he should have resisted arrest, but he'd been in a rather compromising position in the Inn and hadn't any way to fight or fend for himself. Not to mention the rather lovely lass he didn't want to dash out on.

They'd had the decency to let him grab his clothing and redress, though his blade had been abandoned at the Inn. Likely sold off for some booze, such were the morons of the pub. Not that he needed it if this court went the way he was fearing. Unable to take the growing paranoi he raised his head slowly, roving his eyes over the gathered members so far. He knew a few of them, and a couple of twisted smirks or hinted smiles calmed him. Others met his eyes with full disdain, lips set in a heavy scowl. Pigs, who needed their heads severed. Some refused to meet his eyes at all; a number of women looked away, and with a tired sigh he quickly grew bored of the three simple responses and once more looked to the floor. Memorizing the pattern.

"Nathaniel Rystoff," The mentioned party coughed, then looked up at the grand podium. He felt like a young boy all over again, surrounded by the frightening adults. Fury, indignation, and raw terror coarsed through every fiber of him. At least none of the people were ones he encountered on a daily basis; this was embarressing, but had it been truly public he would have taken his own life. Barred from work, from play, from the city most likely, the life he'd lead would be terrible. It was only through careful bartering he'd managed to avoid that when he'd thrown a tantrum last time. "It has come under question the ethics behind the way you approached your job, along with a number of murders in which you are suspected."

Nathaniel said nothing; could say nothing. The ethics behind his job? He was hired to kill people, how ethical could one be? There was the job he'd had in this very fine city of Lomedor, interrogating prisoners for information and filling out ridiculously large amounts of paperwork. He'd used his power in the job to pull strings, like many others, though had been subtle. Or so he had thought. Perhaps that wasn't so? As for the murders, well... It wasn't as if he could point out the great number of nobles who had hired him in the first place. Instead he let his head hang halfway, bangs obstructing his eyes. It was hard to imagine someone who looked as physically submissive of him was capable of such crimes, but that too was a ploy to sway at least a few people.

"Lastly, it has been said you may be trying to commit genocide." Here Nathaniel's head looked up again, eyes shocked. Words escaped him; not because he didn't have any but rather he was rendered incapable of speech by the words. They were true of course, he was indeed trying to commit genocide. He made no attempts to pretty it up or lie to himself about it. But how had that knowledge come into play? Long ago he had cursed, sworn, and said something along those lines... all these years later, could it be they still thought such a thing? Slowly his breath fell under control again, and with a muted sigh he once more shuffled and looked down. This was either going to be very good, or very bad. If the vote went in favor of his innocence he'd be sure to examine closely those who did not agree with him; commit them to memory and then to his blade. His stolen blade. that he needed to replace.

Bah! He needed to stay focused. Concentrate, be determined. It was a difficult balancing act; too weak and they'd delight in pushing, but too strong and they'd label him guilty. Hadn't he paid enough, being paraded out of the Wilwarin in shackles? Hadn't enough people stared? Or did they intend to have him executed? That would certainly put a dampner on his plans...

Alas, all he could do was wait. In any other instant he observed remarkable patience, and yet here and now... Well, seven year old boy described him perfectly.

Fate. It was a funny thing. Who was to no that when she entered that gypsies camp she would not hear about her fortunes, love life, and all the grand kids she would soon have, but to hear about a journey she was meant to make happen? It all had sounded pretty far fetched, and Stella had believed none of it... but what if? The second trip back proved more event full, smoke, bones on the fire - the lot! But why here? This man of all of them? And why her? Fate... yeah, a word totally new to her, yet here she was, fulfilling it.

She was silly to have come here, but it was her duty - or so she had been told. The men guarding the Hall eyes her as she approached, and lifted their spears, about to complain. With a swift motion, Stella pulled down her hood and shook out her hair. The guards mouths opened as they took in the sight of her. Coming to such a Nobel place, Stella decided she needed to fit the part. Her dress was navy blue with sparkles - a replica of the nights sky. Her long Silvery blond hair was let down, thick and straight, a blue headband in the top. She smiled at them, trying her hand at being alluring. Holding up Mothers Moon's fake pass, she winked at the youngest one. They moved apart, granting her access, and she walked through the doors, pulling her cloak tight around her again, trying to draw as little attention to herself as possible. The man on trial would no doubt recognize her - and that could ruin her plans. Best stick to Mother Moon's plan, as it was so well thought out.

*** The day Before ***

The doorway was just a vast purple curtain, sparkles sown deep into it's seems. Strange, where they not afraid of being robbed? Pushing aside the velvety feeling 'door', Stella entered the room and was hit by a strong smell of lavender incense. She hated lavender.

Breathing through her nose seemed the best bet - and so she decided to stick to that. A small table sat in the middle of the room, a large crystal ball perched waiting atop it. The room was badly lit with candle stumps, the flame flickering from the disturbance Stella had made entering. She sat down oposite the woman at the table, and shuffled nervously. The figure at the other side of the table was cast in the shadows, the face hidden, the frame bent over. Mother Moon revealed herself for the first time, her time riddled face gracing Stella's curious eyes.

The old woman must had been beautiful in her time, and it still reflected her features. They where withered, along with her silvery hair - almost like Stella's, but white in colour. Her eyes where a pale blue, on the verge of blending into a white. She wore beads of every colour and size around her wrinkled neck, and her clothes where tatty and bright, shredded for effect. The old woman gave her toothless smile, her eyes crinkling, revealing laughter lines. Stella's own lips pulled up in response slightly.

"Hello my child." Mother Moon rasped, her voice husky. Stella nodded in response, her own voice seeming lost. "I no why you have come." Of course you do. Stella thought, slightly angry. I booked in advance for this.Mother moon stretched out her withered hand, reaching for Stella's, who abide gingerly. She flipped it over, and began to study her palm, whilst Stella watched, a feeling of immense butterflies washing over her.

"Yes... much fortune..." She old woman rambled, and Stella rolled her eyes. But of course... "Yes, and a good love life..." Again, telling me what i want to no. "And many healthy... wait." The woman stopped, and Stella leaned towards eagerly. "I... hm." The woman dropped Stella's hand, causing her to frown. What was going on? Mother Moon took out a little book from within her robes, and began to read it, mumbling the words as she did, she too frowning. Every now and then she looked up at Stella with what seemed a surprised look. Was this part of the act?

"My dear..." Mother Moon addressed her, slimming the book shut and returning it to her dress. "My dear, it seems you have a great journey ahead of you." This was a change, she's never been told this before. "Oh yeah? Where too?" Stella asked, a hint of the sarcasm she felt flooding into her voice. Mother Moon shook her head, her face serious. "Listen dear, this is no joke. This is destiny." The old woman pulled out a velvet bag, and scattered the contents on the fire behind her. It crackled, and Stella stood up to look.

Animal bones? Mother Moon had apparently scattered them on the fire, and then extinguished it, confusing Stella more. Removing the bones, the old woman returned to her seat, and began admiring them, nodding and "ahh'ing" every now and then. The time ticked by, making Stella more and more impatient. She just wanted a simple Palm reading, and to be told everything she wanted to hear.

"See this one?" Said Mother Moon after a long silent period. Stella nodded, bored. "This means trouble ahead." Great. "And this one... this one means prophecy is about to be fulfilled." Again.. woo? " This one... this one means betrayal - are you listening?" She snapped, and Stella nodded vigorously. "Listen here Missy..." Mother Moons voice changed completely, her husky tone becoming a normal tone, and her form straightened, and Stella almost gasped. An act?!

"This is serious stuff. From the moment you walked into here you accepted this journey, and so you better listen carefully..." Mother Moon ordered, and Stella imideatly snapped to attention. "You need to find the Knight known as Sir Caius Lucius, and you must aid him in his quest for Caliburn. He will be dismissive of his role at fist, but you must push him.. and stand by him." Stella's mouth opened like an O shape as she listened, intrigued. Fine the sword Caliburn eh? This will be interesting. "Where can i find Caius?" She asked, her mind opening, finding herself totally absorbed with this journey. This was her destiny? Well.. she had better not muck it up then.

***Present day***

Stella sat down, trying her best to say hidden, sitting in the darkest corner, where the lighting seemed unable to reach. Nath stood on trial, and Stella grinned briefly. She didn't dislike the man.. but they went on the best terms, and she definitely found this funny. At the corner of her eye she spotted her target - Caius. He seemed a Nobel man, and she wondered whether she would have a chance to speak with him, if he would even listen, which she highly doubted.

Caius took his seat in the great hall among the other nobles. This was a scene of the majesty and grace of Lomedor. Each noble had a throne of his won in the great hall made by some of the finest craftsman. Caius took the seat of House Lucius in which he was Heir Apparent. The seat it self was made of fine ebony colored wood that had been crafted centuries ago by the first member of house Lucius to take the seat. Just above Caius’s head was the house crest, a cross section dark blue cross on a silver plane and the other section a silver cross on a dark blue plane. The outlines of the ebony chair were silver plated as well which only added more prestige to the throne itself. When Caius took the seat in his royal robes he looked as if he was one of the most powerful men in the room.

The whispers and conversations came to end shortly a figure to the podium in the center of the hall. Every noble rose from his seat as the Lord Phillip made his way to the center of the hall. The guards who were finely dressed for ceremony came to attention and the council herald shouted forth the call as Lord Phillip arrived.

“Please stand for the noble Phillip the Second, Viscount of Adana, and Lord of Lomedor, and speaker for the council of nobles.”

Now even the commoners and wealthy merchants stood and there was a silence that wrapped over the great hall for a few moments. Lord Phillip took the podium and began shuffling through paperwork. “You may take your seats.” Phillip said, and everyone sat down again. For a few minutes Phillip said nothing and the only noise was that of coughs and hushed whispers. Finally although still hunched over the podium handling paperwork, Phillip’s eyes darted towards the man standing in the center of the room in shackles.

"Nathaniel Rystoff," Phillip said.

At this point Caius leaned forward interested to hear the charges brought against the man. This man had a reputation, a bad one, but Caius also understood that this Nathaniel was not the mastermind, but rather a tool for noble who did not want to do the dirty work himself. The objective of this hearing was getting a list of names of people had paid him to what he had been accused of. Caius was unsure of this man’s loyalty as well, he may be easily persuaded with the sparring of his only life, negotiations of freedom and money, or perhaps they would just toss him on the wracks and stretch him until his bones broke.

"It has come under question the ethics behind the way you approached your job, along with a number of murders in which you are suspected." Caius had to suppress a smile and a chuck, "Lastly, it has been said you may be trying to commit genocide."

Caius along with the rest of the nobles in the great hall almost fell out of their chairs. Whispers and chatter broke out among the audience in surprise. Lord Baldwin who was sitting next to him turned to Caius and looked him in the eye. That was his subtle way of telling him his opinion without speaking, as both of them had examples to set for the rest of the public.
“ORDER! ORDER!” Phillip shouted and the court quickly came back to attention.
“The Plaintiff calls councilor Lucius to the floor.” Phillip said and a ton of eyes fell on Caius. He quickly stood and moved towards the center floor where he stood next to empty seat next to the representatives of Lomedor.

“Sir Caius Lucius, Prince of House Lucius, Knight of Lomedor. Will accept the invitation to assist this court and the people of Lomedor.”
“I do.”
“Please take a seat.”

Caius sat along with the other members who question and find a verdict for Nathaniel. He had not particular feelings for this invitation on the panel; it was part of his job. Caius held a stone expression as he studied Nathan for a few seconds. He did hover want to throw this nave in chains in front of him into a deep dark cell for many years, until he rotted to death and was forgotten there.

“Master Rystoff, please state your occupation and client for the court please.” Lord Phillip asked.

Nathaniel hadn't noticed Stella's entrance, of it he did he spoke nothing of it. He looked overbearingly contained, like some wild animal shackled in a cage. It was a shame activists didn't participate here, or he'd have likely been allowed to walk free. Still, the names he knew and crests that bore recognition gave him some form of comfort. Greatest of all awards was when disorder had momentarily arose, the chaos thick enough to taste. His chest had swelled, muscles tensing and head rose, the whispers of a smirk on his lips. Yes, yell you dogs. Yowl like the cowards you are. If he'd been able to break the bonds he also would have chosen that moment to escape, but sadly the pandemonium died down swiftly and the room was once again left in order.

Nathaniel stewed. Eyebrows once more furrowed, his lips falling back to their half frown. A man was called to assist the court, some Caius fellow, and he found his eyes drawn to the movement. It also resulted in his dark eyes catching a sight that looked familiar, though he didn't realize immediately Stella was there. All he knew was some half-shadowed woman. He knew only that much for the way the dark dress was catching the light in the place. Normally he would tried to make some visual connection, but he was far more intent on watching the man descend down with the other vermin. Nothing stood out especially; he was tall, but not especially so, and his hair and eyes were of a brown he'd seen many a time before. What was interesting was the crest he bore, that for the house of Lucius. He was more familiar with the face of an older man; father perhaps?-- and held no knowledge of this one.

This could prove difficult. He was above stooping and begging, yet how was he to guarantee he was not killed? The panel was one with a number of faces, though not all of them friendly. Could their strings be manipulated, bound and trapped as he were? Nathaniel had never expected to be in this position, or he may have seen to it assassins had a... ‘discussion’ with those whom regarded him poorly. With business and general life he'd been too busy though, hadn't had time to set his teeth into goals of bettering his own future. Amusingly, he'd sought to achieve his desires after seeing to those of the people; never suspecting that perhaps the people didn't want what he was offering. He indulged, of course, but always after he'd tired from the day's labours or had nothing to work towards for the rest of the day, resources exhausted.

"Master Rystoff, please state your occupation and client for the court please." He tensed, suppressing a flinch at the sound of his name. His last name. So rarely was it spoken he had almost come to forget it. Indeed, the embarrassment brought by bestowing it upon those who 'knew' was enough to make him think twice about using it. The nobles he occasionally served used it, though always it was meant in a false manner. As it was now. It wasn't quite a patronizing thing, but still it was used in a manner to insult, whether the speaker knew or not. This Phillip likely meant it as an honourable title, see the master there afront! Yet still irritation riled him, and it took a great deal of self-control not to yell about it. About how Phillip was fake, and this court was fake, and how they'd all burn for this.

"Please state your occupation and client for the court please." Please twice. That was knew. Nathaniel was inspired to glance up to eyes elder to his own, defiance clear though he kept once more from obscenities. "Job?? What job, fool?? You and your cows stole that from me!!" He blinked once, twice. Forcing the thoughts from his head. It was harder to maintain control, especially when he was bound, and so his pause was pregnant and breathed longer than needed. He licked his lips, then spoke slowly, with as much a lack of passion as he could muster, trying to portray the aloof title he was meant to uphold. "I hold no job nor client, save for those that arise in the city." His eyes were daring, alive. If the other asked, he would simply inform him of the mundane tasks possible; cleaning up at the Inn, carting bodies, occasionally helping marketers with their stock, and even working in Estolad to help maintain a few stables. All lies; he didn't have time for any of that or the appreciation for being social such would entail.

So, something of a truth, as well. Better to twist things, then he could take full control in at least that. His body may be bound, but it'd be a difficult task trying to control his words. Simple or not, he could show some cleverness. "I entered a tournament, recently. I had hoped to accumulate the winning prize. Is that now outlawed, Sir Honourable Lord?" His words were, like before, of only a passing interest. There was no malice or cruelty to be found, rather he sounded entirely truthful and genuinely curious. He could have passed for such. But anyone who knew Nathaniel, truly knew Nathaniel, like so many present here, were likely aware that he was a clever enough orator to use biting words with gentle actions, thus saving himself from any ill will. Nathaniel did not doubt Lord Phillip knew of such a tactic, though to openly call Nathan out on it would be poor form. Come, eat, fool. You will only win others to my side.

Drawing in a slow breath, he looked prepared to say more. Indeed, he intended to inform the panel of certain interesting occurrences, but instead his eyes fell on Lucius and he was once more forced to pause. He exhaled slowly, tilting his head in curiosity. Such rage the other unabashedly showed, such distaste. Ha! Half the man his father ever was, then! Devious amusement played across his features, as he considered how he might toy with this other. Then it fell away, and he humbly asked, "If I may be so bold, where is the true Lord Sir Lucius? Has he been felled?" He bit his lip when it came out, bowing his head. "I ask only because I care for the health of the other nobles, as you will presently see. I may not be in your company any longer, but I am still allowed to claim you peers, am I not?" The hasty explanation was not actually a ploy... not in forethought, at least. Rather, speaking of the fortune of the more known Lucius made him worry that perhaps the other had been killed, and he had been claimed perpetrator.

Obviously Nathaniel had no way to know he was far off the mark, and yet still he fretted it may be true. He needed a drink; or rather, a large sum of drinks. So many he would forget what numbers, forget this place entirely. Another wave of uncomfortable irritation gnawed at him, and he shuffled faintly, twisting his wrists in the shackles as if it would alleviate the physical and psychological aspects of his current ailment. And, with nothing left to lose, he let his eyes once again look to the newest Lucius, meeting his brown eyes in an unspoken challenge. Sizing him up, as it were, to see if this man were better than his father. He sorely doubted it, but stranger things had happened in this last week alone.

Vangul swooped through the streets of Lomedor, his long cloak flowing behind him. The cloak may have been the only thing that was recognisable about Vangul. He wasn't currently looking completely evil like he normally did. He wore a mask on his face, a green goblin looking mask which looked rather like a child's dressup-play toy. It served to hide his hellish looking skeleton face from causing panic in the streets. His skeleton body was inside a pair of stuffed leather breeches and a stuffed long sleeve cotton shirt with a black leather vest over it. He wore gloves that went up to the middle of his armbones, also stuffed. They were white and silky, the kind a princess or popstar might wear. The weirdest part of all however, were the shoes he was wearing. His toebones were snuggled inside large red jester shoes with bells on the end of them. He was quite a site to see at the least. Though fashion wasn't something he was particularly concerned with, even when he was alive.

He was called today to meet a former client of his. He wasn't particularly fond of working for people, but he had gotten tipped off that there was free murder, rights to any corpses killed, and other things which tickled his evil glands. He also knew the man for whom he had been called to save, as he had known him when he was alive. Nathaniel M. Rystoff was someone he had met in a back alley in Lomedor. Vangul had witnessed quite a few murders at the hands of Nathaniel, and openly approached him and showed his admiration for his evil. He had then gone in to a bit of a contract with Nathaniel, killing people for him in exchange for evil ingredients and pure fun.

Anyways he had gotten word from a rather shady character that Nathaniel was on trial, and that he might need a bit of help getting out if things turned sour, so he made his way through the streets. He wasn't very good at stealth missions, so he would probably break him out through murder. He had been ordered to wait it out first though.

Anyways, Walking through the city was rather hard for him, with all the tempting citizens just begging to be murdered, but he used every ounce of his self control to keep himself in line. He approached the building, where the two gaurds stood. The tall young one put his hand out.

"The trial is under way." he said. He looked Vangul over with a bit of a raised eyebrow, he was wearing quite the getup."State your business or leave freak." Vangul held out a card which stated his noble heritage. It had a picture of a young man with blue eyes and long blonde hair on it, an unfortunate victim on Vangul's. "Hmmm...How do I know you didn't steal this?" he asked. "Please take off your mask..." Vangul thought for a second, trying to think of an option beyond his normal method of massacre, then it came to him!

"My face was horribly burned in an inn-fire." he said. "My face has been burned beyond recognition, and I wear this mask in order to hide my shame..." The young guard sighed. " How do I know your not making that up? Take off your ...."

"Aww let him in!" said the chunkier older guard. "Ain't he got enough trouble being burnt without you ostricising him? Let him go in." The younger guard simply frowned and nodded, not willing to argue with his superior.

THey parted and Vangul walked in to the grand hall where the trial took place. Snooty looking nobles sat perched around the room. They were ignorant, believing that their money could protect them. As he took his seat eyes from around the room darted to him, in his ridiculous costume. He paid no attention to the stares. He looked in the center of the room, where his old aquaintance was bound and shackled. He had a bit of an innocent look on his face, which Vangul knew was far from Nathaniel's true nature.

Vangul was late, arriving just in time to hear Philip's orders and Nathaniel's testimony. Had a noble been killed by Nathaniel? Vangul wouldn't put it past him, but it would be a bit more difficult to get him out of here if he was convicted. Vangul was relatively sure that most of these cushy nobles lacked true combat skills, but he knew what happened when he assumed....

There was silence for a little while, and Vangul felt his impulse for murder rising, he could smell the scent of the living reeking in the air. He distracted himself by humming a rather funny song the jester he had killed had been humming beforehand.

Although this was the first trial Stella had ever witnessed, she decided then and there that is would be - hopefully - her last. Everyone seemed to talk so slow, and so... proper, and not forgetting the way they all sat down between intervals and just discussed. Nothing, in Stella's mind, could have been so boring. With a hearty sigh, she slouched down in her chair, and yawned. A old man - in his late 50's at the least - and baring a HUGE silvery mustache and beard, turned in his seat next to her to give a disapproving look.

Guess that wasn't aloud either. Smiling at him warmly, she sat back up, then repressed another sigh. What was she supposed to do? Just sit here quietly till it ended? Already she was getting prepared to take her own life out of sheer boredom. The trail seemed to be going no where in her books, and even the prospect of watching Nath under harsh interrogation was loosing it's greatness. The doors to the chamber opened, and what appeared to be a man in a long, flowing cloak entered, causing all eyes to be on him, and silencing the room slightly from idle chatter.

His face was green, bun under close inspection one could see it was, in fact, a mask, causing her eyebrows to rise slightly. How come he could wear dress up and she couldn't?! His clothes where quite odd, being mostly all stuffed giving him a larger frame. People eyed the man as he sat down, Nobles turning to whisper to their partners, some snickering, overs looking in disgust. He sat a couple of seats in front of Stella, and she eyed him with speculation. Surely he wasn't a Nobel? How had he gotten in? She grinned, and leaned back on her chair as she eyed the man, her thoughts racing. Something wasn't quite right here.

Stella's target made his way over to Nath, and her eyes focused in on him, the reason she was here in this snotty place at all. "Please state your occupation and client for the court please." Caius commanded, and Nathan let the question repeat twice before answering. He always seemed good at annoying people. "I hold no job nor client, save for those that arise in the city." Nathan (at last!) replied, and Stella found her self about to snicker. Nathan did have a job, and it seemed to avoid causing Stella pain - well, it was in the tourney. She rubbed her shoulder under reflex, feeling the slight dull ache from its half heal. It seemed that by time she HAD had it healed, damage had already been done.

"I entered a tournament, recently. I had hoped to accumulate the winning prize. Is that now outlawed, Sir Honourable Lord?" Nath went on, and Stella's eyes narrowed at the mention of it. So, he remembered, she scowled at the ground, then grinned. Sir Honourable Lord? Was he JOKING? She thought that he was laying it on a bit thick, the suck up. "If I may be so bold, where is the true Lord Sir Lucius? Has he been felled?" He required, and Stella wasn't the only one who felt herself frown. What was he talking about? Did he not see that this was Caius who he was talking too? "I ask only because I care for the health of the other nobles, as you will presently see. I may not be in your company any longer, but I am still allowed to claim you peers, am I not?" He required, and Stella leaned back in her chair. All these big fancy words, she didn't understand a word of this.

Slouching again, and ignoring the mans next to her's dirty look, she lowered her cloak, and once again shook her hair out of it. It was too warm in here for a cloak. Many of the Nobles around her gasped as her glow illuminated the room, and she froze instantly. Bad move, Nath may recognize her, and make a scene. Silently, she pulled her hood back up, and began to sink lower in her chair, cussing her glow for the first time ever. Today, it had done nothing but got her noticed, and for a mission this big, this... important, stealth was needed. She hoped Nathan had not spotted her, but the chances where slim.

Caius looked at Nathaniel grow very impatient. Lord Phillip had to ask the question of his occupation twice to the court. This meant, although you could not tell by looking at him, that Lord Phillip was already angered and probably developed an even lower opinion of the accused. If possible. Caius himself was a little disgusted as well, for Nathan was only making it harder on himself.

"I hold no job nor client, save for those that arise in the city."
Caius sighed. That’s what were asking… He said to himself. He leaned back in chair and studied Nathan for a few moments. This was going to be harder than it looked. Nathan was obviously was going to be elusive and slow during his defense and the council would need to show patience, along with Caius. He relaxed a little waiting for him to continue in his explanation.

"I entered a tournament, recently. I had hoped to accumulate the winning prize. Is that now outlawed, Sir Honourable Lord?"

Caius shifted uncomfortably in his seat as Nathan spoke. This man would most likely play a mind game with them, twisting his words and speaking his opinion and asking question himself. Caius did not like to play games, he just like getting to the point and issue at had. “You will not ask questions, only answers ours quickly and promptly. If you fail to do so we will lock you in the dungeon for a few months in a small cell, and then try this again… If you have not died of malnutrition or leprosy before hand.” Caius said glaring down Nathaniel. “I will not tolerate little mind games in this court.’


"If I may be so bold, where is the true Lord Sir Lucius? Has he been felled?”

Caius was about to go over and beat the man senseless, he stood up promptly and rested a hand on his sword. No one dared speak to him such a manner or to any manner to a member of the council other than in humility and respect. Caius hated it when lawbreakers treated law enforcement with disrespect, if it was not for men like this Caius job would be totally unnecessary. Yet before he could make a move the bailiff grabbed Caius by the shoulder and shot a look not to move. Caius brushed the bailiff’s arm off and cast his gaze back over to Nathaniel.

“I AM THE TRUE LORD!” Caius barked. “YOU! Listen here scum bag, I’ll rip you guts and shove them slowly down you mouth if you speak to me in that tone! I have every right to sit in this seat, as I have for that past year thank you!”

The court room had grown dead silent and everyone’s attention had snapped to Caius who was still glaring down at Nathaniel. The silence lasted for a few minutes.

“Master Nathaniel, you will address nobles properly in this court, and not ask questions of any kind.” Lord Phillip said. The court suddenly relaxed and even Caius took his seat after Phillip shot him a look.

“Back to business… Tell us how you were arrested in the tourney.”

"I apologize," Nathaniel replied smoothly. "I was not under the impression men who uttered death threats to the accused were allowed to decide their fate. But yes, the tournament. As it were I was not arrested there; rather, I was recently grasped by a number of soldiers while staying at the Wilwarin." There was no fear in his voice; rather, just the opposite. He was clearly amused, enjoying playing with Caius. Nathaniel could not muster any fear for the other, rather he saw him as no more than a child. Like the other pathetic little nobles, hiding behind titles and groups to hide quivering legs and tightly lowered tails. He had to give them credit though; they had cleverly decided on this form of trial rather than the Triumvirate of Ordeals. Trial by fire, trial by water, and trial by combat.

Trial by fire... the accused was to carry a red hot poker in hand and walk three paces. The wound was then bandaged, and if after three days it showed no sign of healing the man was clearly guilty. However, Nathaniel was capable of healing himself. No doubt some of these men were aware. That then brought him to the trial by water. Bound in chains you were tossed into a body of water. If you floated, you were guilty, if you sank, innocent. As soon as you began sinking they'd pull you out, cutting down on the amount of innocent men killed by such a trial. Being a heavy man he didn't doubt he would sink, and the few years of traveling he'd done had occasionally included boat travel; he knew how to swim and how not to swim. So then, last but not least, trial by combat. Whoever won was right, and whoever lost was usually dead so it didn't matter.

Could he take this Caius in battle? The man seemed prone to outbursts, easily fooled into reacting emotionally. A cool head was needed for battle, and Nathaniel doubted the boy had the faintest idea of what such a concept was. Sitting in a seat for a year? It would have rusted any blade. He decided he could defeat the other in battle (such was his arrogant nature) and would have won that, too. So, with all trials beaten, he would be deemed innocent and set free. The nobles weren't doing this for the sake of saving face then; they'd given it some thought. Well, any attention was good attention, yes? Apparently he'd been in their thoughts, and that alone was a powerful thing. It meant he had some sway, they had opinions of him he could twist and toy with.

For now he was playing it safe. Whenever Phillip adressed him he was sharp to respond, throwing sinister smiles at Caius on more than one occasion. Not long enough to be noticed as anything but a nervous habit, though his intention was to goad Caius into all out attacking him. Attacking a shackled man would not doubt have this whole thing put to rest, and allow Nathaniel go back to his business. He neglected to speak heavily on the tournament, still nursing the memory in private before he wanted to publicly speak of it. ((OOC; The tournament is still on-going. I have no idea how it is going to end, so please don't ask too many questions pertaining to it.)) In fact, he'd just been revealing one of the few things he was happy to discuss; his partner, the swordsman known as Nobunaga Oda, when something caught the corner of his eye.

Stopping dead sentence, Nathaniel turned as much as the chains allowed, looking out to the upper seats. A bright shimmer, like a gasp of sun over the horizon before the orb rose entirely; usually called a false sunrise, seemed seated right up there. But no, by that light he could make out faces. The jaunting elders near her, and of course the glowing woman herself; Stella. Silver gold tresses hung framing a childish face, a deep blue seeming to sparkle (A gown, perhaps?). If that was not infuriating enough, a few seats ahead of her was outline the frame of what looked to be a jester! He wasn't close enough to recognize his old ally, and with indignation he turned sharply to the presiding male.

"Are jesters and women to be allowed in this holy court now, Lord Phillip?? Surely you do not seek to make such a joke of this affair!" Really, it was a perfectly accurate response to such an activity. Indeed, more than a few seated patrons were no doubt wondering the same. Not only was this a men's-only event, it was also restricted to nobles and those of high class. Nathaniel looked positively terrifying in his rage, like some tiger that had just leapt from its cage ((OOC:: Reference to Intimidate skill)). Eyes wild with anger and shoulders raised high it was good he was bound, or he might have taken a head clean off there. Gone was amusement, and in its place the individual so claimed to be a monster stood. What a shame his anger was matched by most others in the room, or it might have actually been something to hold against him.

Vangul watched the scene quietly, unaware of the odd stares he was getting, or perhaps not caring. He was too busy looking for an opening, some way to shuffle Nath out of the courthouse with both of their bodies intact. He would kill if he had to, and he would enjoy it, but he did not by any circumstances want to lose his host body, the skeleton of his diseased brother. He had a sort of sentimentality about the corpse he inhabited, and it would not do to take control of a random stranger's corpse. Oh and of course he didn't want Nathaniel to die, afterall he was a friend, in a loose sort of way. Even maniacs such as Vangul respected others with evil in their hearts, and he knew he could only do good by allying himself with others.

His moment of self reflection was interupted by screaming from the "Righteous Lord Lucious." He was a very bold one, telling Nathaniel where his place was, and that he may only answer questions. Was not the accused allowed some sort of defense, that seemed quite logical to Vangul.

Nathaniel had asked Caius where the real lord was, and it appeared to offend the presen lord greatly that Nathaniel had asked a simple question. Apparently the noble types took offense to something as silly as a title. Vangul laughed out loud, his dark laugh drawing eyes from all around. He made a sound as if clearing his throat. He would have to remember to keep his maniacal laughter to himself for now.

It was funny though, that these nobles thought that having money and status made them bleed any less, or feel less pain from a dagger through the kidney. The only difference between a noble and a normal man is that the Noble would die screaming like a baby, pleading to be spared, while a normal man would die an honorable death.... usually. Vangul's brother had died an honorable death afterall, holding off Vangul long enough for his family to get away. Vangul made a mental note to find them and kill them as soon as he could.

Nathaniel began speaking again and Vangul listened to the general mockery of Lucius. He seemed to be having fun with the court, similar to how Vangul had fun by torturing his victims before he brutally killed them. He listened eagerly to Nathaniel's account of the tournament, and of his remarkable partner in battle, when a bright light caught his attention.

He twisted his head around to look at the source. It was a young human girl it appeared...But why was she giving off that light? Where had he seen a light like that? It seemed so familiar...As if a face who watched over the atrocities he had commited... Before he was able to comprehend that she was not of Earth, Nath burst out in an angry rant.

Vangul's head whipped around, causing a horrible cracking sound which was covered up mostly by Nath's angry rant. Women and Jesters were allowed in the court? He had seen the woman, but where was this Jester of which he spoke. He looked around the room, searching for the manifestation of human joy which he would love to kill! He couldn't see one, and then he noticed Nath had been staring at him...Did he think Vangul was a jester? No! PReposterous, Vangul had picked out the most stylish human disguise he could think of.

He stared back at Nathaniel as he reared his head and snarled like an angry dragon. This was the man who Vangul respected, the evil bloodlusting psycopath who had once befriended the maniacal Necromancer. Vangul rose from his seat, and stepped forward, approaching the stand next to Nathaniel. Almost every eye in the courtroom was upon him.

"My good Nathaniel..." He said to the defendant. "Have you forgotten so soon that man with whom you had worked only a few years prior. I am Vangul Lutherford...Your Benefactor, and your defense!" There was murmoring around the courtroom and general confusion, and Vangul was about to increase it tenfold.

His hands moved silently under his robes, and out of nowhere, a black mist formed upon the area where the noble leaders stood, and then a skeleton burst forth, and jumped on one nobles back and began beating his head and singing a song in a horrible groaning voice. There was a horrible confusion in the courtroom, and Vangul would take advantage of it as soon as he finished his speech!

"You rotten nobles! Don't you know power when you see it? Don't you have that sixth sense that let's you smell raw power. You hide behind money and status, but you all die the same! Your blood is the same as every other man's. It all smells of copper! It all stains clothes and streets. With a knife through your back.." He drew his wand. "Your pretty clothes will be ruined, which seems to be more important than your own death!" Vangul stuck his wand in to Nathaniel's locks and broke them free with a simple twist. The stunned nobles now stood up, getting ready to charge, and the peasant guards, bared their teeth down. Vangul could just make out an opening in the crowd. "Come Nathaniel, we must flee from this chaos! "

Nath's outburst had made Stella sink lower still into her chair as many out raged glares shot her way. Naturally the jester had to be the strange man who had entered, and she felt a common humiliated bond with him. Gasps and angry cries directed at some one other then herself caused Stella to sit bolt - upright, and stare at the 'Jester', as he rose from his seat. Was he leaving? Stella wished she could leave, but she was on a mission...

"My good Nathaniel..." The risen man began, and Stella's eyebrows shot up. How did he no Nath?! "Have you forgotten so soon that man with whom you had worked only a few years prior. I am Vangul Lutherford...Your Benefactor, and your defense!" She realised she had stopped breatheing, and took in a deep, cleansing breathe. Benefactor? DEFENSE? Her head whipped around to scrutinise Nathan, disgust plain on her face. The man buried his hand in hid robes, creating a blackened mist to form where the Nobles stood. They spluttered in outrage, and many of the audience fled the hall. She didn't blame them, if only she could leave.

She looked up in time to see a skeleton, seeming to be on a Nobles back. Maybe she was seeing things... this was odd. A loud - and very much out of tune - screeching erupted from the thing, and many of the people still in the room covered there ears. Stella moaned in pain as her head almost split from the horrid sound.

"You rotten nobles! Don't you know power when you see it? Don't you have that sixth sense that let's you smell raw power. You hide behind money and status, but you all die the same! Your blood is the same as every other man's. It all smells of copper! It all stains clothes and streets. With a knife through your back.." The figure drew his wand, and Stella reached into her own cloak, retrieving her barbed staff. She began backing over to where Caius stood, her form ridged. "Your pretty clothes will be ruined, which seems to be more important than your own death!" Stella reached her targets side, and stood in front of him, protecting him from any blows the cloaked man may aim. He freed the locks on Nath with a movement of his wand, and she cussed angrily.

"Come Nathaniel, we must flee from this chaos! " Not on her watch. Raising her staff, Stella aimed it at Nath and his accomplice, and scowled at then angrily. "STOP!" She yelled, and took in a large gust of air. "FALLING STARS!" She yelled, bringing the staff down in a sweeping motion. Nothing seemed to happen, and many of the Nobles stared at her as though she was crazy. She was merely waiting. Above them, unseen because of the roof, the sky was lit up with hundreds of tiny pebble shaped stars, falling directly where the cloaked man stood.

Nathan no doubt would recognize this attack. She preyed on the Stars that her attack would fall in time before they made an escape... soon the roof was blown apart as the tiny pebble - like - stars fell in the room, the screams from the Nobel men and woman filling the air. Splinters from rafters whizzed everywhere, beams falling here and there. She pushed at Caius, moving him away from the carnage, and glanced back at the destruction. Thick clouds of dust obscured her vision, and she could not see whether her attack made home or not.

"My good Nathaniel..." Some one interrupted the hearing and Caius turned to see who had. "Have you forgotten so soon that man with whom you had worked only a few years prior. I am Vangul Lutherford...Your Benefactor, and your defense!"

Caius frowned realizing what was about to happen. “My equipment!” Caius shouted. “Squires!” He said to a group of younger men who ran off down a hall as he called for his gear. Cries and shouts began to fill the hall and Caius turned to see a black mist materialize into a skeleton. The hall turned to chaos and nobles began to scurry in every direction to try and escape. “GUARDS! GUARDS!” Caius shouted but it was no use, the number of people fleeing the hall prevented the guards from entering.

"You rotten nobles! Don't you know power when you see it? Don't you have that sixth sense that let's you smell raw power. You hide behind money and status, but you all die the same! Your blood is the same as every other man's. It all smells of copper! It all stains clothes and streets. With a knife through your back.." A man, Vangul, drew his wand. "Your pretty clothes will be ruined, which seems to be more important than your own death!"

Suddenly Nathaniel was free of his chains, Caius cursed to himself as things could only get worse. Yet he felt a hand rest on his shoulder. “Your shield and mace sir.”
Caius frantically grabbed his shield and Mace of Equity from a squire who had retrieved it. “Thank you, now get out of here.” He said to the squire. He turned back to face Nathaniel to find a young woman standing in front of him with a staff. She raised her staff and shouted "STOP!" She yelled, and took in a large gust of air. "FALLING STARS!" She yelled.

Caius swore as she shoved him back, he covered himself with his shield as the little tiny enchanted pebbles fell from the sky and bounced off his shield harmlessly. The ceiling caved and dust and debris filled the room causing only more chaos, at least the skeleton has been haplessly destroyed in the magic attack. Caius roused out of the dust and debris ready to fight as the falling stars spell stopped, his shield and mace held in an A-frame position now ready to fight. “Enough!” He shouted. Whether he was talking to Vangul, Stella, or Nathaniel even he had no idea. Now that things began clear guards rushed in around them with swords drawn and spears lowered. “You’re all under arrest.” Caius said. “There is no escape, put your weapons down now!”

Crossbowman fell in line behind the guards, their bows were ready to fire. “All of you put your hands in the air, no spells!” Caius shouted. He moved forward towards Nathaniel ready to strike with his mace. “Stand Down.”

Nathaniel, for his part, was an exceptionally talented liar. Not only verbally, but through expressions and mannerisms as well-- perhaps, in another life, he might have been an actor. Dark eyebrows rose high, dark eyes widening in shock at the being who had lunged from the stands. Bright colours would have typically labeled him as being well paid, though given the designs it was an outfit bestowed upon him and not one bought himself. Given the way it bulged in areas and was sunken in others it was not made for him, in fact he had likely lined the insides with some manner of purse, or perhaps some other material solely to make it hang in a less dead fashion. It didn't look to be working, as the movement of the being had jostled the careful work and forced it into odd confinement; not that he was trying to uphold the illusion of it fitting any longer.

Nathaniel saw green eyes flash and the haunting skull of a man he'd known a lifetime ago, that dead voice so familiar. "Have you forgotten so soon that man with whom you had worked only a few years prior. I am Vangul Lutherford...Your Benefactor, and your defense!" In a truly pitiful fashion he pulled at his shackles, much like a horse trying to escape an unkind master while bound by leather. Much like such a mare he was trapped, and with a great deal of people fleeing he looked positively terrified. "Nuh-no! What demon is this?!" Panic clasped his throat in a death grip, and the words were barely able to stutter past. Vangul didn't seem to react to the words; he merely addressed the crowd.

"You rotten nobles! Don't you know power when you see it? Don't you have that sixth sense that let's you smell raw power. You hide behind money and status, but you all die the same! Your blood is the same as every other man's. It all smells of copper! It all stains clothes and streets. With a knife through your back.." Loud clanging sounded as the bound man tried to pry himself free again, though it didn't so much as dent. He could feel his wrists rubbing raw with the motion, feel the bruises that would no doubt colour his skin interesting hues of purple and blue in the morning. By the looks of it he didn't expect to see the coming day if he didn't break free soon enough. Oddly enough, the skeletal creature seemed to sense this; with words lost on the struggling Nathaniel (who was oblivious to all but the groaning and gasping of metal against metal) he swiped his wand through the air; suddenly, the clasped irons fell free.

Nathaniel's sword was back at the inn. He carried no other weaponry with him, and those who had perished to the summoned skeleton (summoned skeleton?? when had that happened??) hadn't been armed. Making a wise decision he moved away from the Vangul, who was busy causing chaos. Though such a thing was tantalizing to take in, he had a job to do. He couldn't be siding with some demonic apparition, not if he wanted to ever show his face in this city again. With the same fear he'd honed after years of training he grasped the arm of a fleeing squire. "Sword, man! Get me a sword!" Of course the terrorized lad did nothing but stare with wide eyes, and when Nathaniel realized the scope of uselessness presented he tossed him to the side, trying to find some form of weaponry.

Then Caius, that arrogant little boy, had retrieved his own weaponry from a squire. Though he didn't occupy himself with keeping up to date on all the forms of weapons in this realm, he certainly did know that it looked like it would hurt a fair bit to be hit by it. Still, unarmed and as likely to die from being trampled as by one of the many guards he made the wise decision to get under a table. Not the most brave of actions, but he wasn't stupid enough to run about without anything. Perhaps if he could grab one of the chairs... although just who was he trying to attack, anyways? Nathaniel had to appear to be against Vangul, while also keeping from being killed as well. If he did get out of this he'd be giving Vangul a very long speech on the use of subtlety.

"STOP!" Rystoff tensed, every muscle clamping down. Even his jaw set itself tightly, the voice one he'd heard a fair amount of times in the last while. Stella? Here?? That was great. Truly fate was giving him a beat down, though what karmic sin he'd committed to deserve such was beyond his comprehension. Quickly he heard a second shout, and this one truly did fill him with fear. Shooting stars was a terrible spell; not only did it inflict massive amounts of damage and pain, there was no way this table would protect him from such an attack. Quickly he lunged and made to leap out from under the table like some mad dog, though a clank set his plans back. Looking behind himself, he noticed that in his quick movement under the table he'd snagged the chains on his ankle. It wasn't hooked on and he could shake it loose, but the foreboding of Stella's spell made his movements jerky and slowed the process considerably.

Forcing himself as far back as he could he pulled at the metal with his fingers, tugging and writhing like a fox in a trap. His hands slid along the metal, his foot kicking out as if it were a seperate entity. Only after a great long moment did he realize that it was loosely wrapped, and he lifted his leg as high as he could, and reached under, pulling the shackle along the floor and finally getting free. It couldn't have been done at any more perfect a time, for that was when the cieling began to be torn asunder by the harsh rocks. Strong enough to fell most enemies, the cieling stood no chance; thankfully, it slowed them enough that when one got embedded in his leg it didn't go straight through or manage to pierce the bone thoroughly. A sharp hiss was all he mustered as he curled back under the table.

Thunk! Thunkthunk! THUNNK! It was chilling to hear the rocks drive into the table like a thousand daggers, but he quickly occupied his shaking hands by pulling free the rock in his shin. It ached terribly but his yowl of pain was drowned out by the continued descent of rocks. Bloody and wet it hardly resembled a rock, and with passing revulsion he tossed it out from under the table. Then Nathaniel massaged the skin, muttering under his breath as it sealed itself. It was painful and induced more than a few winces, but the finished product was a healed leg. That, and now the falling had grown less frequent.

Peering out, he caught sight of one of the fallen chandelier, and nearby a basin of water that had collected a number of stones. Muscles coiled and mind churning he lunged again, this time racing out towards the basin, he grasped up a nasty shard of glass to use if need be, and took a great long gulp of water. Rocks hit his cheeks and fell to the floor, and a good share of water splashed along his chest. It looked like he was quenching a thirst, which wouldn't be surprising given his rapid energy burn moments before. When his mouth was full he swallowed it into his lungs, hacking and coughing. Once more, it appeared as little more than a simple problem with swallowing it wrong in the chaos. Nathaniel was still drinking it down when Caius ordered everyone under arrest, the place stormed by guards.

Without a thought he dropped the glass shard, continuing to drink from the basin. It was almost disturbing to watch the man, who drank as if he'd not seen water in ages. Then, timed perfectly, he spotted the archers storm in. Dark eyes moved to Stella, then widened in shock (feigned of course, but you'd be hard-pressed to prove it) as he dropped the basin. Then of course he started choking on the water he'd drank, hacking and coughing as he fell to his knees. Some of it dribbled out of his mouth, though it could have just as likely been saliva. Then his eyes rolled back and shut, and he fell still. Drowning from a drink of water, to imagine.

Of course, Nathaniel was far more sneaky than that. None but that blasted wizard Rike would have known, but the man had carefully trained to be able to resist drowning and to actually breath even as his lungs swelled with water. It wasn't a difficult task to roll ones eyes back or lay perfectly still, not when those who would check bodies to see if they were dead were so poor at their job. Without having to breath his chest did not expand and his muscles twitched no more than expected of a fresh corpse. Nathaniel was a good actor, beyond his words. He also knew that a dead body would be carted out of the room quickly to save it from the putrid stench they typically collected, which meant he'd be free soon enough.

Nasty, terrible, and yet so viciously cunning it could bring a grin to a weasel.

“All of you put your hands in the air, no spells. Stand Down.” Stella rose from the ground where she hand landed, and began the process of dusting herself off. The grand room - for all it was worth now - had been left in ruins. The great chandelier had fallen, and Stella's eyes remained glued to it sadly. Such a shame... Hideing her wand back into her cloak, Stella glanced at Nath, her eyes searching him over as he lapped up water like there was no tomorrow. The people who had remained in the room looked shaky, definitely did not look up to a battle any time soon. Stella kept her wand drew out, her cloak material shielding it from the people sight.

Turning to Caius, Stella looked him over critically. He was alive - that was important, and it seemed he had been granted a weapon. As for the other man, the one who's Stella's attack had been aimed for - there was no sign. With a sigh, she began to walk about the hall searching for any other potential threat, her slippered feet throbbing under the sharp pebbles and stones. Moon stones where sharp, and Stella knew she had probably cut herself. Trying to be discrete about it, she stood still and looked down at her feet carefully - and sure enough, a small trail of blood droplets was trailing behind her.

Slowly, making sure she didn't harm her foot anymore, she made her way close to Caius, though not so close for him to notice. Eyes once again locked on Nathan - the seemingly ONLY threat in the room, she directed her speech. "Nathan." She called out, waiting for the echo of her voice to quieten. "Come out from under the table. - Please." She added on, realising her manners. She knew Nathan, and she knew he wasn't such a bad guy. If anything, this was most likly a set up, but still, she needed to hear it from him.

"Tell me Nathan please..." She asked quietly, moving towards him, winning the whole way as her cut feet gave her pain on the rock and glass scattered ground. "Who was that?" She asked, suppressing a smile. She was talking mature... and it was rather amusing to her, acting older then she truly was. Hiding her delight, she put on her serious face, looking into his eyes as though willing him to agree with her theory. Nathan couldn't be bad... and Stella knew that the prophesy was most likly wrong. She would have to tell them both about it - but until then, she would fake an air of detachment, as though she had been ehre merely to see the outcome of Nathans fate.

Stella had known Nath for a while now - and it seemed to her unlikely that his involvement could anything other then coincidence. Side-stepping away from the glass gingerly, Stella looked back at Caius. "Are you okay?" She asked finely, though it seemed unlikely her was badly hurt. She had been too rash - attacking as fast as she had. She should have waited, or just aimed an sole attack at the man, but under the circumstances, Stella had panicked. Taking in a deep sigh, Stella sagged on a nearby table, her small size ableing her to keep her fell off the ground. They where throbbing, aching from the stones and glass so no doubt had buried in it.

Taking her wand from her cloak, she pointed it at her foot, ignoring Caius warning to not cast any more spells. "Sealing Wounds" She muttered, watching as a number of small rocks and little bits of glass clattered to the floor at her feet, her mound beginning to heal with a scab. It was itchy, but Stella ignored the feeling completely. Mother Moon had told her their would be causulties - and staring at her foot, Stella thought through that. Who was going to get hurt?

***Previously***

"Mother Moon... I just have one more question." Stella muttered, stood in the doorway. "Yes child?" She asked, and Stella looked at the floor. "Why me?" She asked, feeling uncortable. Stella was no hero - heck, she was no physical strength so to speak, and all a person had to do was take her wand away to stop her. Why would they pick her in a world of heroes and Paladins? "Because..." Mother Moon went on, and Stella began to step towards her, Mother Moon's voice being quiet. Mysterious.

"They chose you." Stella nodded once, then stepped outside. Wait... who was they? "Mother Moon, who is th-" The tent was gone. Their was no indication that Mother Moon had ever been there. Stella could have imagined it for all she knew. Looking at the ground, she noticed a slip of paper. Lifting it carefully, she read the writing.

"Fear the One who Knows you Best"
What did THAT mean?

***Present day***

Taking the note out of her cloak, Stella read it again. It made no sense. How could she fear somebody her knew her best? LOADS of people knew her best!! Stella's child-like mind refused to acknowledge the truth, that it was sitting in front of her, underneath a table and drinking from a water basin. This prophesy was getting underway, and it seemed possible that they where all to far in now to refuse to take part.