Thomas found himself on the shore of lake Aelin. The cool breeze that came from the lake tickled his face as he lay in the fertile grasses on the banks. He was relaxing, as any traveler did when weary from the road. Through rain and heavy winds he'd trekked all over the south east. Hunting and maintaining nature to the best of his abilities. He was a ranger, in his mind it was his duty to maintain the balance of nature..

Especially so when man tread over it with carelessness and destroyed the forests and animals, the waters muddied and the sky dark with smoke. Much like the pile of corpses he left burning a few leagues behind him. Every last one in the bandit camp had been taken down, if they did not surrender and flee, they were killed. Needless to say few surrendered. "Hmmm.." he reflected on the battle half a day past.

They'd taken some nomads for ransom and destroyed a great bit of his world in the process. Cutting, hacking and slashing away at the woods to build their primative huts and equipments, and fuel their massive bonfires. A plague on the world and one that was gladly gone.

He felt a rush of guilt, wondering who's father, husband, brother or son he'd slain. All those men may have had families.. though they likely didn't care for said people.. said people may have cared for them and that hurt him. He knew what it was like to lose family, even if it was only old age losing a family member is a hard thing. But it was justice, defending the land.. that's how he justified his murderous rampage on that camp.

Fingers strung with leathery flight-membrane clung to the air, bearing beneath them the incredulous form of a wraith of a man. Hanging weightlessly upon an upward current he watched, far below, his prey; still marvelling at how one so seemingly insignificant, so seemingly lost and adrift could have engineered the demise of Baugrins' entire troupe. He had toed and nudged the dead, trying to discern what kind of enemy had overcome them. The blade-wounds a queer mix of dwarf and elf; with the rending weight of axe, and the cleaving sharpness of elvish smith-craft.
His troupe, having earned their deaths to the last, had allowed themselves to be strung out; there, overcome by one with superior wood-craft, they had been taken out one by one; their carcases dragged, and burned en-masse.
Thusly Baugrin marvelled as he swooped ever lower, letting his dragon-wings spill much of the lift. Thusly, still veiled entirely with shadow, and barely perceptible but for where the bright light of moon or star betrayed his pale shadow, he alighted, leaning close to the ranger, just to properly catch the scent of him.
"I must say" Baugrin whispered, whirling to the rangers other side. "You have done rather well, haven't you?"

(My apologies if this comes off rude. It's not meant to but I don't like cursing what so ever, so if you could please tone it down in later posts while around me.

Thomas was relaxing all cool at the lake and unbeknown to him he was being hunted. That was his job! "Hh?!" he rolled away from the "You have done rather well, haven't you?" and the stench of death and drew his blade as he rolled upward still to his feet. The impressive blade was held mid level, as was his common guard. Neither offensive or defensive. "Who are you?" he demanded. This.. thing.. this... he wasn't sure what it was! But it was stinky and not too pleasant on the eyes either! The outward appearance and that tone just dripped with evil and he knew it. He had to be cautious.

"Stay back now, I want not for trouble you.. you." he was a mixture of confused and ready.. for anything he could be. Magic, great evil, epic quests.. none of these were part of his education or thoughts.. he was just a humble ranger that served well.

Baugrin had seen the likes of this ranger, simple men who relied on their courage; who carried out the seemingly impossible merely because they were unwilling to give up, and dauntless in the face of what their courage might cost them. Would that I could find a few ambitious men with similar qualities the wraith mused to himself, as the wind pulled at his cloaks, and whined against the queer filament of his dragon-like wings. Ah, but then... the wraith knew it,ambitious men simply can't resist trying to take the lead the moment plans look as if they are going well. Baugrin leant in close, breathing in the scent of the ranger."Trouble?" the voice dripped like pouring oil from the face that smiled, but whose eyes held no humour. "Trouble my sweet? What-ever would make you think I have sought you out with trouble in mind?" The lightless eyes stared into those of the ranger while the blade of a longsword drew noiselessly from the leather scabbard.
The ranger had adopted a classic short guard, the plow, and Baugrin held back for the moment, uncertain of his opponent agility or expertise. But it was a confident and practical stance to employ. Certainly the ranger also had the single-handed deaths of a score of men to prove his expertise; but Baugrin was nonetheless impressed. Utterly assured of his agility -not remotely supernatural but tried and tested- Baugrin pinioned his wings should he need to wrench himself backward through the air, holding his own longsword in the near-ward stance: pommel against his hip, the blade tailing behind. "I am more than a mite upset at the death of my men, though ranger. What were-gild can you offer me for their deaths, aside from your own?"

The ranger's trained eyes remained affixed on the apparition. That's what he considered this new being having intruded upon his well earned rest. "I'm not sure stranger an apparition spawns on you with fetid flesh and the tongue of a serpent, you expect trouble."replied Thomas. Then the ranger listened, hawkish eyes unblinking as the wraith spoke. His tone sounded more like tar than oil.. at least oil was pleasant in it's own ways.

He watched as Baugrin drew his blade and took on the deceptive side held stance. Fitting to the wraith, he thought. Deceptive and wicked. "I owe you no were gild as the deaths of those bandits were just and righteous. You want to speak of were gild, dues and penance then they were all served, those that those men owed for their pillaging, raping and destruction upon Ea.."

The ranger was right, in his own mind. Bandits were a plague and should be corrected. With assistance or death if they refused. Harsh beliefs but the ranger suffered little evil on the world if he came across it. "It is unfortunate that they happened to be in my direction of travel.. I wouldn't say I hunted them down with the soul intention of killing every. Last. One." he chided with a smirk. Was he proud? Oh yes, very proud that he removed such things from the presence of Ea and more respectively nature.

Baugrin laughed, unsummoning the wings for a moment so that they appeared to evaporate and disappear like smoke. Still on guard Baugrin shifted his stance, ox following through to a matching plough though Baugrin took hold of his blade halfway down its' length in a queer gauntlet of undead armour. "Look at you!" Baugrin marvelled, his laughter like barbed wire. "You're pleased with yourself, aren't you ranger? You credit yourself with another dauntless stroke for the side of the righteous!" the wraith drew the veil of shadow about himself, so that he could scarcely be seen, summoning his ghastly armour, thus embodying himself completely in a queer matter shimmering around him like un-light, hard as steel. "Every last one of those men were my slaves, held to ransom by the love of their families! Do you understand? Their families will starve, or worse when news of their deaths has arrived." thus concealed, barely visible, and thus girted, the wraith advanced, calmly, but forcefully -running the length of his longsword down his opponents' until the hilts clashed -attempting to loop the length of his own pommel under then over the top of his opponents wrists in an attempt to trap them between the crossbars and the pommel -the thumb-scissor and if successful would have his opponent momentarily gripped in a painful lock, wrenching thumbs and wrist to breaking point, and ideally forcing him to drop his weapon... But many of his men had known this skilled sword-form, and the ranger had bested them to the last. Baugrin relied on his complete armour and the difficulty of seeing him to give him an upperhand.