The desert climate could be survived by very few Beorc or Laguz, but today it was showing a different side of the desert. The harsh sandstorms and blistering heat waves were replaced by a peaceful blue sky and a pleasant breeze. This pleasant weather led to Tormod being in incredibly high spirits, and that means everyone was to having a wonderful day. Some of the older Laguz joke that Tormod was like a woman- if he wasn't happy, no one was happy. They wisely kept this joke to themselves, out respect for Tormod. And the fact that he had a 7 foot tall tiger with him at all times. Muarim was definitely the strongest Laguz in the desert, and was well beloved by good people, but the trouble makers hate him, since he was the one who enforced law and order in the encampment. Not like many severe crimes occurred, just the occasional brawl between the beasts or the occasional theft by the ravens. But still, whenever something did happen, Muarim was the one to find out. Maybe because his senses were the highest amongst all the Laguz, or maybe because he was strong enough to take on 3 tigers, 2 cats and a hawk fighting about the overall quality of tuna. (Don't ask)
"They all seem to kill the messenger, huh Muarim?"
"Of course, little one. But it's nothing I can't handle."
Tormod and Muarim were taking advantage of the pleasant weather, and were going to the oasis that they got their water from. The trip was pretty far, about 7 miles through the desert, and they were striking talk. This was because Tormod hated the phrase "small" talk, and banned anyone from saying it. So, every one struck up talk. "Whatever makes his ego okay", the Laguz thought to themselves. Unfortunately, Tormod couldn't stop Muarim from calling him little one, but one victory at a time he supposed.
"Don't you ever get upset? You're trying to keep order and peace, and yet they hate you for it!"
"Those who hate me for keeping order are not ones who I would want to call me friend."
"Yeah, but-Muarim?"
Muarim dropped the jars, thankfully on the soft sand, and was smelling the air. He could make out the distinct smell of steel and silver- the stronger types of Beorc weapons. As he turned around, he saw a group of about 15 mercenaries, carrying the Begnion flag. Some of them were grinning, talking about how some weird potion really worked. He guessed they somehow masked their scent, and he was unable to smell them until it was to late. Their leader stood about 6 feet tall, with a massive build and tan skin, meaning he probably was in the desert often. He had several wounds that Muarim could tell were caused by Laguz. Claw marks across his chest. Beak wounds on his face. This enraged Muarim, as he realized this man sent quite a few Laguz into the bonds of slavery. When the man spoke, his voice sounded low and gruff, almost sinister.
"You look like you're quite the catch, you sub-human. I'm a man of business, so I'll make this quick. First of all, look behind you."
Tormod was gagged by two swords masters.
"Damn!" Muarim thought, "I was so focused on the leader I wasn't paying attention!"
"Now like I said, I'm a man of business, so I'll make this quick. You for the boy."
Muarim looked so crestfallen. He'd failed the little one, and now had to go back to confines that he once lived in. He risked a glance at Tormod. His glare told him not to surrender, don't worry about me, etc.. However, Muarim had to ignore the pleas of Tormod's eyes. He walk slowly to the leader, head bowed in defeat.
"Very good!" The leader was starting to laugh, "But we have to make sure you don't try any thing after we let the boy go!"
He took out his weapon, a silver poleax, and started beating Muarim with the pole. The wounds weren't what hurt Muarim- it was the fact that they reopened old ones. The pain of whips and poles of his old life came back, the memories taking jabs left and right. What hurt even more were the muffled screams of Tormod, trying to break free. This went on for about ten minutes, until a voice stopped everything dead in its tracks.
"Talk about kicking a man while he's down!"
The leader stopped, and was trying to find the voice. It sounded calm and cool, like some old sage, but it had a cocky edge to it. The leader couldn't find the voice, but he did find blazing fire, burning him alive on contact. Muarim looked around, All 15 men were dead, and Tormod was free and had his elfire book out.
"Little one, did you do this?" His voice was full of bewilderment.
"Nope. Just that last guy. I wonder who saved us? Whoever it was, I need to thank them."
Muarim looked and found an elixir, left for him by his savior. Muarim tried to sniff out this mysterious person, but could find no one, and he wouldn't find him, despite looking for the rest of the day.
The hermit was already lost amongst the sands he called home.