The ‘thump’ of gates closing behind a lone wanderer drew the attention of a select few who were still in the streets of Angband in the mid afternoon heat and not tucked away or underground to escape it. A few droplets of sweat trickled down the already obviously heavy perspiring man’s face as he moved over to the nearest water pump he could find and poured a bucket of the refreshing liquid over his head. He inhaled slowly before taking a long series of gulps from the bucket following refilling it once more.

His now cool, wet clothing had obviously not provided him much help on the trek here, they were dark and he had been out during the heat of the day in the desert, which no doubt had aided his fall into dehydration. Sand clung to his tattered looking boots and pants as he slowly set the water bucket down and blinked away the sand that had run down into his eyes with the water over his head. Dragging his fingers through his hair, he looked around at the desert streets and buildings.

“What in the world possessed me to come to this god forsaken place again?” Marinar asked himself under his breath. It had been quite a long while since he stayed in Angband, but his stay had been mildly pleasant for the two months he was there. Certainly not a place he would want to settle down and stay in permanently, though, there was few places that he considered plausible candidates for that- if ‘few’ meant ‘none.’

The operations of this city were far from what Marinar enjoyed, but he did find, strangely enough, that he fit in best with the brigands and scoundrels over nobility or even average farmers and peasants. Perhaps this company made him feel better about his own sometimes unsavory actions, or he merely thought they were more interesting, whatever the reason, he had a few circles of… acquaintances within the city walls with whom he got along splendidly. But there were a few more people inside the city that he did not get along with all that well; he had had his share of fights, fortunately for him however, luck had been on his side and granted him wins almost every time.

Marinar shook off the thoughts of who would be his ally and who would be his enemy and made his way into the city’s underground, the hustle and bustle here significantly greater than above ground for the time being. Merely looking for an escape from the sun for now, Marinar ignored his usual ritual of squaring his shoulders and standing straighter to look even more intimidating than he already was and found a quiet tunnel to sit down and rest in, hopefully undisturbed.

"Sweet silence." He mumbled to himself as he sank to the floor and rested his head against the wall, closing his eyes and taking a slow indrawn breath to attempt to center himself.

Waking up from a slumber of a night filled with tossing and turning, Lef rose up in his bed on his elbows. He came to the inn to settle down from the deadly heat, and was grateful that he could find this place. Stepping out of the bed his feet touched the hard ground. No clothes were around him as he reached for a bundle of tossed aside garments. Then finally he got dressed, and slipped on his sandals. Hard wood from the sandals pushed against his tan feet as he made his way to the doorway. Pulling on the handle with his right hand, the door seemed stuck at first but then with another firm tug it let Lef have his way with it. As quick as he had woken from his dreams he slipped out into the hallway.

Walking to the innkeeper he made a slight wave with his left hand while feeling the hilt of his katana in his left hand. He wanted to make extra sure that he didn’t leave it behind. Stepping out of the inn he remembered why there wasn’t any sun beating out of the window. It was because of his underground position. There were many hustling people around the town, bumping and shoving each other left and right. He stood on the stoop pondering if he should just go back to bed. But time thought against it so he made his way down the two levels of stairs and moved with the river of flowing people in the streets.

After a few moments of not knowing where he was going he slipped down a tunnel that didn’t have as much people pushing and shoving one another. As he bow his head and sighed happily and said, “Sweet silence,” the same time as another voice said it. He looked at the parrot, but then saw a man sliding down to sit against the wall. Lef cocked an eyebrow then turned his back to his wall and faced the man across him. “Getting away from the crowd too?” Lef said in a friendly manner.

A testament to just how tired Marinar was, he had not even heard the man on his approach, even in the acoustically pleasing tunnel that would have brought his voice straight to Marinar’s ears. He was snapped from his half asleep state by the new man’s voice- the half barbarian sat up and opened his eyes, cocking his head at the source of the voice.

“Something along those lines…” Marinar replied, studying the man with his dark green eyes. In his hand, he held the handle of his sword, in the reverse so that his blade rested against his side but with an easy single move he could swing the sword out- though he really was not interested in doing so.

“Not much for the hustle of cities…” He added, glancing around, down towards the end of the tunnel that this new comer came from. As far as Marinar was concerned, Angband was the last place to begin trusting strangers- there were too many thieves and murderers and mercenaries roaming around without anything to do, any of them could try and make nice just to try and rip him off. It would take even more convincing for Marinar to trust anyone here than it usually took outside the city.

Marinar closed his eyes again for a few moments, thinking about how uncomfortable sitting on the stone floor was. He was accustomed to sleeping on the ground, where grass and top soil tended to separate him from the less hospitable parts of the earth. Ironically, as he thought about how uncomfortable this was, he was thankful for not having a bed- they were too comfortable for Marinar’s rather odd tastes. He had been homeless and wandering for long enough to get used to it.

“…even degraded ones like this.” He finally finished the thought aloud as he sighed and stirred himself fully from his sleepy state, deciding that he was not going to be able to get much rest knowing someone else was nearby and aware of his presence.

Oh, how Wolfang hated the desert and everything closely associated with it. So strong was his hatred that it couldn't be summed up in a couple of words. His whole uneventful journey through the desert was spent by muttering curses through his chapped lips. The climate was the exact opposite of his native northern lands, and that thought constantly taunted him. He was agitated with the place to the point of fury, but lo, he was close to Angband now, a former prison where other travellers like himself sought sanctuary from the heat. The worst part was that he was out of water, but his destination was visible. It was not much farther to water now, but Wolfang's situation was not dire. Only infuriating.

"I can't handle this anymore!" Wolfang exclaimed suddenly, jerking his two handed sword from its scabbard on his back and throwing it violently at a nearby cactus. His sword got lodged in the cactus' soft body and a small stream of liquid began trickling down the trunk of the plant where the sword was stuck. "I hate the damn desert!" he yelled again at the top of his lungs, walking over to the cactus and jerking his sword back out with a satisfying squirching sound.

Less than an hour later, Wolfang stood within the gates of Angband, drinking deeply from a public water pump and bucket. After drinking his fill, which was quite a lot for the hot-weather-hating barbarian, he naturally sought to escape the heat in the subterranean level of the prison-city. His travelling clothes, which consisted of a short-sleeved, dark green shirt, dark blue trousers, and simple leather boots couldn't be filthier. They were now more or less dyed the same color as the desert sands: a rusty redish orange color.

Following the stairs deeper into Angband with the goal of just sitting underground and cooling off for a while, Wolfang turned into the first tunnel he could find. Wolfang expected the tunnel to be deserted, boy was he wrong. Already there were two other men present, probably individuals much like himself, just needing a brief rest from the searing heat above. Upon closer inspection, as he walked into the tunnel a little more, one man indeed look much like Wolfang. He was tall, taller than Wolfang himself, but very similarly built, broad-shouldered and muscular. Wolfang could recognize his own people when he saw them, and oen of the men indeed looked like a fellow barbarian.

"Hail, stranger. It's not often I see a fellow barbarian in this accursed land. Not a decent flagon of mead to be found in miles, and it feels like I'm walking through a furnace every time I set foot outside," he greeted what appeared to be a fellow kinsman. Of course, he spotted another man in the rather small tunnel as well, and adressed him too, "Well met, traveller. Hope you two don't mind if I join you here for a brief rest from the sun."

Lef shrugged at the man, “I don’t mind, I just needed to catch my breath from some of the common people here. Its almost as if they enjoy knocking each other senseless.” Lef reached up with his right hand and scratched his neck as a small smile appeared followed by a crackle. Still the sound of loud tunnels filled the small and less crowed tunnel. He sensed that for now he wouldn’t be too bothered with the towns people shoving left and right. But he knew as soon as he decided to leave he would be. So the thought of leaving anytime soon didn’t really accrue to him.

((eep sorry for the shortness I’m braindead today))

Dark green eyes snapped attention from one new comer to the next as Marinar heard a fresh voice, a mild smile tugged at the corner of his lip at the notice from his kinsman of just what he was. It was fairly evident that this new man was from the barbarian lineage as well, the size and build of him not to mention the other similar characteristics Marinar and he shared. Marinar bowed his head slightly and put his fist over his heart as a greeting to the man.

“Hail. It has been quite awhile since I saw a fellow barbarian… well met.” He replied, staying settled against his spot on the wall, a mixture of too tired and too comfortable to be bothered getting up and then needing to sit back down and become resettled. So much for being alone with his sweet silence, but so long as these people did not decide to start stomping around Marinar was fairly sure he would not have much difficulty getting along with them.

“I know, it’s dreadful, isn’t it? Boiling hot outside and yet no one around here has a half decent drink… they ought to be ashamed of themselves for that.” Marinar replied to the barbarian man’s comments on mead and the sun. Last time he had even had a drink of anything other than water was the last time he was in the company of Dwarves, and they of course, insisted on a drinking contest. Needless to say, Marinar had not won the contest but he certainly was able to hold his own for quite some time. “You’re welcome to rest here.”

Turning his attention to the half-elf, Marinar smirked slightly at the comment. “You mean you don’t enjoy bouts of pointless and unnecessary violence while you’re walking down the street?” He asked, obviously joking- then again considering the revelation he was of barbarian blood, it was hard to say whether or not Marinar would enjoy said bouts of violence. He smirked more fully before addressing both men at once: “I’m Marinar.”

"Marinar," Wolfang repeated, trying to remember his name for the future. "I'm Hlormar, of the Wolfang clan," he stated proudly. All the same, he wondered if Marinar had a clan, he didn't state one after his name as most barbarians did. But then again, maybe he had left them, or he was banished. It didn't matter, it wasn't his business Wolfang decided. Marinar probably didn't want to wear his allegiance on his sleeve, as some barbarians chose, to avoid the attention of enemy clans. If he didn't want to tell him, then Wolfang would respect that and not ask.

"So then, Marinar, where are you heading to?" he asked the usual question when he met people travelling somewhere. Meanwhile, Wolfang removed his sheathed sword from his back so he could sit down in the tunnel with his back to the wall. This he laid on his lap and then turned his attention to the other man located in the tunnel. He had barely looked at him before because the presence of a fellow barbarian in a place like this was a rare sight, but now he was slightly curious about the other one.

"You don't enjoy violence? What are you, some kind of paladin?" Wolfang added to Marinar's comment, also joking with him. "What's your name then, sir knight? Perhaps you're on a quest to save the princess and slay the dragon as well?" he asked, piling the jokes on once more, but they were light hearted, and Wolfang didn't mean much offense. It was just his way of asking him what he was doing in this accursed land as well. Suddenly he wished for a drink of something stronger than water, but that proposition could wait until the introductions were out of the way.

There was slight irritation in the mercenary’s sweaty brow as he listened to the other men misunderstand what he was saying. They seemed to be mocking him, either serious or non serious. Lef felt it was a mixture of both. He held firmly on the hilt of his blade next to his hip with his right hand. But it was there more or less for relaxation, than a posture of attack these two men. Although the thought of his kanana touching their necks did interest him greatly. But there was no need for that, because it would be a waste for has far as he knew, these two had no bounties on their head. For since he was a mercenary, he only killed those whom had high bounties, and this wasn’t the type of thing to kill a man for. It was more of a thing you would beat the living hell out of them. Yet he was too tired right now because of the heat, also this urge to beat the heck out of them could have been the reason of the hot temptures going to his brain. So the urge to fight was hard to push away.

Finally Lef smiled a bit after the two men were down more or less mocking him in his point of view. “It isn’t wise to judge a stranger before you get to know them, or they might even pull a bigger surprise.” Lef chuckled a little and made a polite bow, “I like to make up poems as a side thing, although I’m better at more things then that.” Lef crossed her legs by the ankles and leaned up against the wall. “They call me Lef, how do you do?”

((eep attack of the shortness again I’m sorrys))

Wolfang. Marinar was only mildly familiar with the names of the other barbarian clans, his home clan was a bit different from others, in how it was structured and acted, and knowledge of other clans did not reach the ears of its inhabitants too often. Fortunately the barbarians of the Ered Annon Mountains had no enemies among their fellow barbarians’ clans- partially from their seclusion but also from the fact that they had been broken and spread across the lands for quite some time now.

“Straight through the desert… up into the mountains… try and find some of my clan- The High Guarde… you may have heard of the mountain barbarians, they’re my people… unfortunately we’ve been scattered for quite some time now.” Marinar slipped in his answer to Hlormar’s question as to where he was heading before laughing slightly at the other barbarian’s additions to Marinar’s jokes at Lef’s expense. At the notice of Lef’s hand on his weapon’s hilt Marinar’s deep green eyes darted between his own hand on his sword and Hlormar for a almost unnoticeable split second, but managed to smile at the reply and his grip on his sword’s handle loosened and after a moment, it finally eased away from the hilt all together.

“Indeed.” He replied and smirked slightly at the comment about not judging a stranger. “Good to meet you, Lef… the poet… among other things.” Marinar turned his eyes away from both of the men as the passers by of the busier tunnels once more, no one seemed to be paying any mind to this tunnel, which both made Marinar relieved and concerned… just what this tunnel was for was now a question standing out in his mind.


((Ick, looks like I've been attacked by the shortness too))

Wolfang listened to the man talk of his clan. He had indeed heard of them, but not in recent memory. Only going back to when he was a very young boy, listening to the elder's tale of times long gone. Almost instantaneously Wolfang felt a great thrill of excitement as he realized the man was looking for his long scattered people. Putting two and two together Wolfang assumed that he must be trying to rally them again and renew the clan. The excitement came from the fact that their goals were almost the same, although Wolfang's situation was slightly different. He decided that he would converse with Marinar for a little bit longer before he got down to the heart of the matter. At the time of thinking he was sitting, more or less, slumped over near the wall of the tunnel, but after his realization he sat up into a more comfortable posture and faced Marinar so he could begin explaining what he needed to say.

"My people, the Wolfang clan, are only slightly different. We hail from the frozen North, near Calaring the Everlight, in the place where the Losamalda Forest with its life giving river and the plains of the Khelek Tundra meet. Perhaps you've heard of them? One of the ancient and noble clans of the barbarian race, but we've only risen to be the ruling power of our region in the last century or so, with the bulk of the conquering happening in the last decade," he explained to Marinar. He wasn't boasting, although occasionally he did get too proud for his own good, but his explanation was purposeful, and he trailed off only to get Marinar's reaction on all this and to learn how familiar he was with the Wolfang clan before he would truly state his point.

"Greetings then Lef. I suppose yer right about that. Didn't really mean much offense to you, but I see you're a good man and can appreciate a jest every once in a while now, eh?" he replied to the man more as an after-thought than a real greeting because he was more focused on his conversation with Marinar at the time.

Lef smiled and nodded to both men as he kept out a watch to the crowed other tunnels with the corner of his eye. He began to wonder if this was such a wise place to be at right now. It would be awful is the place was for construction, and giants started to tare down walls and they would be stuck. Stuck in a place where Lef didn’t know anyone, and their cries for help would be ceased. Thinking of being under ruble of piles and piles of sand didn’t settle very well to him at all. He preferred to be above ground, but in this desert, being in the deadly head would be deadly.

“Never hurts to laugh once awhile,” Lef agreed to the man as he put both hand s in his pocked and sat down with his back against the wall. The two barbarians seemed to have many things to talk about. Because for him it was as if he were a part of the wall. He waited until they had something to talk about that he could just jump right in. But with the talk of barbarian clans, he knew nothing about, nor deep down did he really care. But the subject was interesting to listen to.

Marinar couldn’t help but let a smile tug at the corner of his lip at Hlormar’s proud description of his clan. He nodded a ‘yes’ in reply to the question directed at him. “Aye, I’ve heard a lot of them… I’ve been under the impression a few of my people may have gone to yours in the past years… seeking refuge. I actually intended to go meet some of you sometime in the future.” Marinar smirked a bit. It seemed the fate had a sense of humor- or urgency- and had pushed the two barbarians together for a reason.

There were a fair number of questions that Marinar now wanted answered, and he knew the answers would come with time but he could not help but want to ask all of them at once. What Hlormar’s position within his clan stood in the forefront of Marinar’s mind- Marinar himself was the son of the last chieftain of the High Guarde clan which made him all the more determined to gather his clan together once more in order to rebuild his father’s legacy. He also wondered if the clan was in the distant north, what one of them was doing in this miserable desert, Marinar’s more hopeful side began to wonder if the Wolfang clan was looking for allies. If so, Marinar could perhaps be able to make a deal that could aid his construction of his clan, but he was getting far ahead of himself.

“Seems fate’s decided to speed up my time tables.” He smirked slightly and settled against the wall a bit more, crossing his arms and adjusting his legs, pulling his right up a bit, pointing his knee to the ceiling and sliding his left foot in the gap under his right leg. A small change could make a surprisingly large change in comfort. He relaxed slightly against the wall and awaited the rest of the story Hlormar seemed to be ready to tell.

"Maybe they have, I don't know. I haven't seen my clan for at least ten years since the wars had ended," he said sighing. He wished he had gone home more often, to check on the affairs of the clan, but the commitment to making a journey to another continent wasn't very appealing. Besides, he had left for a reason, and until his goal was complete he doubted he would return home. But that was another troublesome obstacle. How would he ever know if his goal was complete? It was such a relative and amorphous thing.

"You see, after a century of war, with the last decade of it being the bloodiest, my people wanted peace, and I can't blame them either. Even I wanted a rest. So as one of the eleven members of the Council of Warriors even I had cast my vote for a temporary peace. The decision was unanimous. There was a problem though. The 'temporary' peace had drug on for three years, and as far as I know its still going. I tried to start up the campaigns again, but nobody wanted more fighting. 'Not yet, wait another year or so,' they told me. That's when I left. I resigned from the council. I told them I'd be back only to challenge the War-Chief. In our clan he could override the Council's decision, you see. My reason for leaving was so I could grow stronger, and up North that was impossible. So now I'm a Warlord in the Chaos Legion of the Appocalypse Alliance here on Ea," he said. "At least I'm constantly challenged. Kinda wish fate would speed up my timetables too..." he added as a bitter after thought.

Marinar listened closely to the story, obviously very interested in what the man had to say. Seeking the power to do more was a concept that Marinar had become extremely familiar with- it seemed that these two men had much more in common besides just their looks and title as barbarians. Talks of war and the yearning for peace for too long immediately made Marinar's thoughts move to wondering just how their kind had managed to keep the title of "barbarians" when evidently, they grew weary of wars just as any other kind of Atani did. The mention of the Chaos Legion and Apocalpyse Alliance piqued the half blood's interest- they certainly sounded powerful and very dangerous.

"Seems you and I have similar goals to accomplish. I too need more strength... to be able to reign in my people once more. I have seen many of them, living in smaller collectives around the lands, but all of them have refused to follow my lead despite that my father was the last chieftain of our clan. A proper display of authority would make them fall in behind me... and ensure that so long as I draw breath my peopel will not be scattered again." Marinar explained, every so often dragging his fingers through his dark brown hair. That was a habit he had developed long ago, when he was thinking deeply it was very common to see him sliding his hand through his hair.
At this moment however, it was less from deep thought and more from a state of anxious excitement, which he was bottling in quite well. Having an ally seeking to accomplish a smiliar goal to his was enough to make him perk up, but the thought of perhaps in one way or another, the pair being able to aid each other's quests was even more interesting.

"Then declare war! Unite your people against a common enemy, appeal to their bond of kinship as High Guarde members," Wolfang blurted out as soon as Marinar finished talking. The answer seemed so obvious, and such a perfect solution to Marinar's problem, or at least Wolfang thought so based on the knowledge he had been presented with of Marinar's clan and just barbarian general in general. It was after all a loose gathering of the most basic concepts of war and leadership of his clan, surely Marinar's clan was mostly the same.

He could hear the grizzled old warchief's voice in his head now, echoing the very words Hlormar had first heard twenty four years ago, "The strongest bonds are forged in war and fed by the blood of your enemies! Familiarity breeds respect! United we conquer, divided we are the conquered!"

"I'll even offer what help I can, although it's not much. Just me and another barbarian warrior I met in my travels. He's a mute, you see, but I still managed to get him to join the Alliance, and after that he's become a rather good companion. Sturdy and dependable like a rock, and about as talkative as one to boot too," he added in jest.

Truth be told, Wolfang was rather excited with the idea of starting off on a new mission, a crusade almost, and eagerly awaited Marinar's response.

Ah, truly that would have been the perfect solution, aside from one small problem. Marinar leaned back against the cool stone wall and directed his dark green eyes to Wolfang’s in all seriousness. ”Yes… that would be perfect… aside from the minor detail of not knowing where my people are anymore. I need to find them first, then bring them together under one banner again.” Marinar replied a moment after Wolfang’s words had left his mouth. The idea was a great one, gathering everyone to fight a common enemy, if he could find even one group of his people then they could spread the word- cause a mass chain reaction that re-gathered the High Guarde horde. He knew just who those enemies would be.

“I appreciate the offer… I may just take you up on it in time.” He added quickly onto the end of his statement. Were a war to begin, then Marinar would have no qualms about gaining support from Wolfang or his mute ally; in a world like Arda one could never have too many friends.

A new question pushed its way to the forefront of Marinar’s mind now as he glanced around the area they sat in, pondering just how long they would go undisturbed in a place like Angband. There were people who roamed around shooing off squatters, not to mention the muggers, the murdered and the displeased or drunk mercenaries that often wanted to pick fights to prove their skills. Picking a fight with two barbarians, however, seemed like a fool’s errand… though there were plenty of people who fit that qualification moving around the city.

"Aye, how about that minor detail? Seems like minor details are the ones that usually ruin the best laid plans. It doesn't matter then, I've been waiting most of my life for one thing or another. Adding another matter to the list is like adding another snowflake to an avalanche," he replied, not quite disappointed.

He relaxed now, seeing as the excitement of going to war with fellow barbarians abated. However, as he was sitting there, talking with Marinar, most of the noise from the outside tunnels drowned itself out, but now he could make some of the noises out. He could hear men shouting, the stamping of many feet, as if people were fleeing, and even brief sounds of combat, as steel met steel. Wolfang looked to Marinar, and noticed that he also glanced towards the opening of the tunnel they sat in.

"Are noises like this common in this god-accursed land?" he asked Marinar, as this was only his first time in the awful desert city. Even if they were, Wolfang still didn't like it, and they weren't as faint anymore. It was unmistakable, slowly but surely they were moving towards the direction of their tunnel. Wolfang stood up and drew his claymore from the scabbard on his back.

"Let's go take a peek. I don't like the sound of what's going on over there," he said, directly speaking his mind to Marinar.Of course, by taking a peek, he meant facing whatever was making the noises with drawn swords and combat stances.