A/N: Hello! Yes, I know I said that I'd update Weyard Weekly first, but I realized that this just made it so that I didn't get to work on either of them. Now I'm just going to put some time aside to work on things that I ought to be working on, like Weyard Weekly, and update it when it's ready.
On to the review responses!
EchoKazul -- Yes, I've been watching a lot of Kenshin lately (I've watched every episode dubbed and more than half of it subbed!). It kind of influenced Shi Maido . . . a lot. I wasn't overly happy with my own killing of Hal, but I was following what thoughts came into my own mind. Much of this story comes from images that pop into my head unbidden.
The Faction's Lord -- I'm rather surprised at how easy the transition was. And, if what others have been telling me is any clue, I appear to be doing well at it! (I can't tell personally about how good my writing is . . .)
MercuryAdept -- Well, yes, I guess it was, but I changed it to a happy ending and I didn't do overly well with it. Maura's fate will be detailed in this chapter.
The Mysterious Al -- Actually, I check the reviews of all my fics and your reminders do nothing to stir me. I am a lazy individual and will remain so. Sorry.
TetraSeleno -- Thank you! And one would think that having a rookie swordsman lose against a master swordsman would be an ordinary thing. ¬'¬ Unfortunately, it is not. And you will learn through this story about Shi Maido, never fear. His background has been forming in my head since before I even started writing this.
Glossary
Baka: Idiot
Wakizashi: Japanese long dagger
Chapter 5: A Hint of Things To Come
Claudius Perfidus, the Bringer of Truth, stood just outside the tall wooden door. He didn't bother looking at the ornate gold moulding or elaborate doorknocker. He gripped his sword, knuckles turning white from nerves. None of that fear reached his face.
"Enter, Bringer of Truth," a cool female voice called.
He entered cautiously. He walked past the rows of twin draconian statues and the other arcane decorations that lined the large hall. He had been here many times in the past, so he walked to the large silver-gilded throne. He kneeled and bowed until his head touched the cold stone floor.
"He demands servitude," a man standing next to the throne barked.
"My will is tied to His." He had given the ritualistic answer many times.
The man beside the throne nodded. "In her mercy, she has allowed you to stand before her."
Claudius stood. He looked at the throne. As always, most of the person sitting on it was mostly obscured by shadow, as was the one standing beside her.
"We request information on this one who has beaten the Bringer of Truth," the same cool voice that had summoned him in requested.
"Not beaten," Claudius corrected carefully.
"But you must admit, he would have defeated you should the time have been given," she pressed.
"Perhaps."
"Perhaps," she amended. "However, it appears that this man may pose a threat, should he fight against us."
"That is more likely than not to happen," a sudden voice said.
Claudius whirled, sword drawn in a second. The man next to the throne placed a hand to his belt, too.
"Peace, great lords." A small and slender man stepped out from behind one of the statues that lined the hall. "I bring no harm."
The Bringer of Truth's lips twisted into a scowl, but the one beside the throne said without emotion, "Shadow Walker. How . . . unexpected."
"As usual," the enthroned female put in.
The man made an extravagant gesture ending by placing a hand over the general area of his heart. His blue eyes twinkled in amusement. "You wound me. To have been so easily forgotten by such a fair lady. . . ."
"Stow it," the fair lady in question snapped. "What is it?"
"Sources tell me that there is one warrior of great ability looking for someone who, let's say, overuses one certain expression." He used a hand to flip back a long blond strand that had fallen over his face, smiling impishly. "That is the truth," he added.
"Most unfortunate," the female replied. "I would have hoped to avoid conflict, but. . . ."
"I am sure that Shadow Walker here could let me know where he is for me to challenge," Claudius suggested. "My lady has only to command. . . ."
"I'm sure she will," Shadow Walker interrupted, tossing a knife he had produced from hand to hand carelessly. "After you did ever so well last time."
"We will need to find someone more skilled," the man beside the throne said flatly. "They will demand a hefty price, but, since money is no object. . . ."
"Why bother fighting Mars with Mars?" Shadow Walker asked. "When Mercury would be so much more effective?"
"What do you suggest?" Claudius hissed.
"Someone who could work a little faster. An assassin, capitalized or otherwise," he suggested.
"Who? You?" the woman asked sharply.
Shadow Walker was a picture of innocence. "Me?" he said in a mock hurt tone. "You insult me. I plan; I am not a man of action. I couldn't fight to save my life." He then completely contradicted himself by tossing a knife in the air and catching it in its sheath. He turned the move into an elaborate bow, causing snorts of disbelief all around. "Besides," he said, exaggeratedly tired, opening his eyes and looking up at the others. "I've been working my skin to the bone for our newest project. That, I assume, is a higher priority."
"Hmm," the enthroned woman replied pensively. "I would prefer not to contradict either of you if I could help it. Both of you find the kinds of people you suggested. First come, first serve, first to the reward, which will be the usual for such a case."
The three others bowed simultaneously in complete sincerity, even on the part of Shadow Walker. "My lady," they murmured.
' ' ' ' ' '
The small girl hummed a tune to herself as she walked along briskly with all the incredible energy of a happy five-year-old. Her clothes, probably shabby to begin with, were in poor repair and her black hair was messy and dirty.
She didn't notice the two men following her, lost in her own world. She did, however, notice when one of them stepped in her path.
"Excuse me," she said automatically and attempted to move around him.
The lanky man stepped to one side and grabbed her arm. "Nah, excuses ain't necessary, kid. I wanna talk t' you."
"I don't want to talk to you," she told him, trying to squirm out of his grip.
He ignored her and dragged her inside an abandoned building. "Don't bother callin' fer help. No one's close enough, kid."
"Good job, Karl," a slightly tall man called. "You found one! Sure she's an orphan? Boss's orders."
"Sur' I'm sur'," the lanky one, Karl, replied lazily.
"What do you want with me?" the girl asked angrily.
"Boss's orders," Karl explained, vaguely.
". . . Yes?"
"Our boss got this great idea, see?" the other man explained. "He thought kidnapping a bunch of little kids, see, and then we train them until they turn out real rough and tough, see, and then before you know it, we got another generation of bandits, see? Of course, we need some women for these guys, see, for when the grow up, see, so that we can have another generation of bandits, see, and then we'll see, see?"
"I see," the child replied, confused.
"So, the boss sent us, see, because we're so good, see?" the man continued, oblivious to the child's confusion. "We're Karl the Killer, Sarl the Slayer, and Marl the Massacrer!"
The girl, still confused, looked at the two men in the room and asked, "Isn't that three people?"
"Huh? Oh, where's that dratted axe fighter?" the man said, annoyed. "Marl! Marl! You idiot, get in here!"
"Right!" A huge, muscular man came out into the open from behind some large piles of boxes, his axe on his shoulder. "Wha' y'doin'?"
"I'm preparing a pot of idiot stew and I'm looking for the main ingredient; what do you think we're doing? I've told you about this a thousand times! We're here to kidnap this girl, see? Does that jog what constitutes for memory for you?"
"Uh . . ." the axe wielder looked as deep in thought as he could. "Nope!" he replied cheerfully.
The man placed his head in his hands. "Why do I even bother? Just draw in the dust or something until we need you."
"Duh, okay!"
Noticing the girl looking at him sceptically, the man quickly continued his spiel. "The spearman, Karl the Killer!" he said dramatically, waving a hand at the lanky one. "Undefeated in combat!"
The axe man looked over. "Uh, what 'bout when. . . ?"
"Shut up."
"Or when. . . ?"
"Shut up," Karl said.
"Or. . . ?"
"Shut--up!" Karl and the man yelled.
"Duh, okay!"
The man sighed. "Now, where was I? Oh, yes. Wielder of axes, Marl the Massacrer! Unstoppable strength matched only by his keen intelligence--oh, who am I fooling?"
Marl looked up from where he was drawing little flowers in the dust. "Wha'?"
"And me," the man continued, ignoring his thick partner. "Sarl the Slayer! Indestructible, unbeatable, swordsman whose strength and skill know no bounds!"
Karl glanced at his partner. "Tha's enough, Sarl."
"Peerless, unmatched, stronger than anyone else . . ."
"Tha's redundant, Sarl."
"You make up the speech, then. . . . All alive or dead fear me!"
The girl looked at him innocently. "I don't."
Sarl growled. "Well, you should!"
"I don't see why," a voice said coldly from behind the door.
"Who's that?" Sarl asked. "Who--oof!" He fell backwards as the remainder of the door hit him in the chest.
"I only came here to have my blunt sword reforged," Shi Maido said from the doorway. "I had no wish to fight. Definitely not to kill. Why don't you humour me and walk away right now? If not," he said, drawing his sword, "I make no guarantees of your survival. What will it be?"
"Marl, get him," Sarl said grumpily, trying to emerge from under the door that Shi Maido had shoved at him.
"Duh, okay." Marl got up from his little drawings. He picked up his huge axe and swung horizontally.
Shi Maido responded instantly, blocking swiftly. There was a clang of metal on metal, and a sword went flying through the air and stuck in the wall. His eyes flicked towards his sword for only a moment.
"I hate it when this happens," Shi Maido said levelly. Marl lowered his arms and nodded sympathetically.
"Marl, this is no time to be gentlemanly!" Sarl growled. "Get him!"
"Duh, okay," Marl replied amicably. He raised his axe again, apologising to his opponent, "Sorry 'bout this."
"No problem," Shi Maido replied.
Marl nodded and brought his axe down, scattering floorboards. Shi Maido jumped sideways, knelt into his motion, and shot out again, fist extended. He hit the axe wielder straight in the face, before dropping down again. After crouching down to absorb the shock of hitting the floor, he stood up and dusted off his hands.
Nothing happened.
Shi Maido looked back in astonishment as the colossus looked around in confusion, lifting his axe. "Where did he go?" Marl muttered, turning around. "Hey, how'd y' get here?"
Shi Maido yelled and threw another punch. Same effect. He gave a flying kick to the man's shoulder. Nada. He let loose a flurry of punches. Only effect being that his fists became very sore. He blew on them as the Marl's partners laughed at him. Marl was still just confused, but gave that up quickly when he attacked again.
Shi Maido jumped away again. He scratched the back of his head after landing. "This one's tougher than I thought. Maybe I will need to kill him after all," he mused. He quickly moved when Marl attacked again.
Shi Maido jumped to one side and crouched as Marl turned to face him. Marl raised his axe and Shi Maido leapt onto a box and jumped upwards from stack to stack until he was higher than his opponent's reach. Giving Marl a suffice amount of time to register this new location, he jumped off the boxes. Marl, seeing Shi Maido just out of axe reach, jumped as well, bringing the gigantic axe swinging through the air, straight towards the leaping swordsman.
At the last moment, Shi Maido grabbed one of the ceiling supports and twisted his body just away from the axe swing. As Marl was on his way down, he swung back and pushed himself, feet first, on Marl's shoulder blades. Using Marl's weight and his own momentum, he drove his opponent into the floor.
Shi Maido walked off the body that was stuck headfirst into the floor calmly. Sarl and Karl stared at their thought-to-be unstoppable partner, who's muffled calls for help could now be heard. Such a blow would have killed most men, but Marl was as thickheaded literally as figuratively.
Shi Maido turned to the remaining two. "Will that suffice to convince you?" he asked.
Karl grabbed a spear that was strapped to his back. "Not just yet! Th' best is yet t' come!" he shouted as he thrust viciously at Shi Maido.
A blink, and all that one would be able to see would be the flash of Shi Maido's two wakizashis as they were sheathed once again in his sleeves. The point and much of the shaft of the spear fell to the ground.
As Karl stared at his now useless stick, Shi Maido kicked the more useful parts to one side and looked around curiously. "The best is yet to come? Is there someone somewhat less pathetic that you bakas?"
Karl, still in shock, poked Shi Maido lightly with the pole. Shi Maido ignored the poking and went over to retrieve his sword as Karl followed, still poking unbelievingly. Then he shook himself and roared, "I can still beat you!" He twirled the pole over his head rapidly and brought it downwards in a powerful blow.
Unfortunately for Karl, the blow never landed. Shi Maido, in a movement that looked almost as if it were accidental, withdrew his sword from the wall and slammed its hilt into the spearman's stomach. Karl the Killer flew across the small room and slammed into the wall, unconscious.
"One last chance to surrender, you," Shi Maido told Sarl coldly.
"My name is Sarl the Slayer!"
"It is? I am sorry. I had forgotten that useless piece of information," Shi Maido replied cooly. "After all, why bother to remember a two-coin swordsman as you?"
Sarl the Slayer growled, but then forced out a smile. "Oh, you'll remember it. For the rest of your all too short life!" Sarl grabbed the young girl, who had been almost forgotten during the fighting. He held his sword dangerously close to her throat. "Drop your sword and throw it away, or this one dies."
Shi Maido did as he was told, slowly but unhesitatingly.
"And the ones in your sleeves. . . ."
"You're no fun," Shi Maido said blandly as he dropped the two swords from their place and kicked them away.
"Hah." Sarl gestured with his sword arm widely. "Never trust an enemy. That was your mistake."
"Your mistake," Shi Maido replied. "Was never let your guard down!"
A quick "Huh?" was all that Sarl had time for before the heel of Shi Maido's hand connected with the bottom of his chin. His head snapped back, slamming into the wall behind him. The rotted wood collapsed behind him, and his head smashed through the wall. He fell into unconsciousness as he slumped against the wall.
Shi Maido retrieved his swords and returned them to their normal places. He began to leave, but turned to look at the little girl.
"Sorry for taking so long," Shi Maido said apologetically.
He was almost outside when the girl called, "Hey, mister!"
Shi Maido stopped and turned around. "Would you mind not calling me that? It makes me feel old," he said, walking back towards her.
"Aren't you?" The girl sounded surprised at his objection.
Shi Maido froze in mid-step. "I'm only twenty-seven!"
"That's really old, mister."
Shi Maido hung his head. When he lifted it up again, he said, "Please don't call me that. My name is Shi Maido."
"Okay, mister."
He scratched the back of his head as he straightened. "Stop calling me that. My name is Shi Maido. Got that?"
The girl nodded understandingly. "Your name is Shi Maido, mister."
His hands dropped to his sides. "Stop calling me that. My name is Shi Maido. Use it!"
"Right, mister."
Shi Maido's hands fisted. "Stop calling me that! My. Name. Is. Shi. Maido. Got--it?"
"Sure, mister."
"Aragag!" Shi Maido walked towards the wall and put his fist through the decaying wood.
There was a pause.
"Ow. I think I hurt myself." He withdrew his fist gingerly.
"Is there something wrong, mister?"
Shi Maido knelt down to her level. "Please stop calling me mister!" he begged.
"Fine, sir."
He hung his head again. "That's even worse," he mumbled.
"Sir?"
"Never mind. Mister is better than sir."
"Okay, mister."
"That's the best I'm going to get. . . . What was it?"
"Um. . . ." She seemed shy for a moment, and then said, rather brokenly, "I--I don't have anywhere to go back to. I'm alone in this world. My parents died just last winter. I have no one left. Even my brother died. . . ." She seemed unable to continue.
Shi Maido looked at her. He thought back to one place, a field, on a day that was supposed to have been one of joy . . . ten long years ago. Could it have really been that long? He had felt that the sun would never rise again as he watched it set that day, when he, too, felt broken and very much alone. That wound had never fully healed, but here, he could change one person's life so that they needn't ever feel the way he did . . . and still did, every day, every sunset. . . .
"Come," he said, standing. "You can come with me."
She brightened visibly. "Really?" she asked, joyfully. She hugged his leg. "Thank you!"
Shi Maido smiled benevolently down at her.
She let go of his leg. "Of course, the first thing we're going to do is save those other orphans that those three were talking about," she said in a tone that reminded him of his old teachers. For a five year old, she did a very passable imitation of a know-it-all grown up who felt that this was, of course, beyond a doubt, the only right decision.
"We are?" Shi Maido asked as the two of them began walking.
"Of course, mister!"
"Would you stop calling me that?" he asked, annoyed.
"Sure, mister."
"Do you even know where those men are from?"
"No."
"I don't even know why I'm doing this," he muttered.
"What's that, mister?"
"Nothing. And please, call me Shi Maido."
"Sure, Mister Shi Maido."
"We sure have a long way to go. . . ."
"Can I have something to eat? I'm starving!"
"Sure," he said, then mumbling, "I'll just have to live on roots and edible grubs, it appears. My purse already could barely support me. . . ."
"Mister?"
"It's Shi Maido, remember?"
"Right, Mister Shi Maido."
Shi Maido, serial killer, merciless warrior, sighed.
' ' ' ' ' '
Maura was lying on a grassy plain, the wind rustling the tops of the long grass. She couldn't remember getting there, but she still had an almost tangible feeling of peace. She smiled and sighed contently. She felt completely at ease.
As if the sigh had issued some command, the wind picked up and a sudden fog rolled across the plain. It passed as suddenly as it had started, drawing the wind with it. For a moment, there was no sound.
When the last wisps of fog had fallen away, she saw the plain changed horrifically. A few warriors tramped down the grass as they fought fiercely. The dying grass was stained red from the blood pouring from the bodies that littered the plain. The quiet was broken with the screams of the wounded and dying.
The fight between the survivors was quick to end. Soon, only two men, wearing the same colours, were left standing. They looked at each other for a moment before one slid behind the other and placed a dagger in the other's back. The stabbed one made no sound as he crumpled to the ground, blood flowing from his back. The dead man's companion didn't even look at the fallen one, only taking the bloodied dagger out. He licked some of the blood off before he noticed Maura. His eyes lit up inhumanly and approached, dripping dagger ready. She turned to run.
As she turned, she found herself on the edge of a cliff. She looked down as a rock tumbled down until it vanished from sight. She looked over the land in front of her. It was burning in multiple wildfires that stretched over the entire region before her. Gutted forests and charred plains stretched beyond the horizon visible from the great height.
She heard a noise and turned, certain it was the warrior. Instead, she saw an unnaturally tall man approaching. He wore a white robe that shone as brightly as his face and his long blond hair. He was beautiful, so beautiful it almost hurt to look at him. His face was serious as he made his way towards the cliff's edge. She nearly asked him about where she was, but something in his manner stopped her, although she couldn't name what.
He continued, slowly and deliberately, still with the solemn expression. He seemed wise and good in appearance and power seemed to radiate as much as the light coming from him did. He looked over the edge of the cliff at the horrors below. As Maura watched, his expression changed. He began to smile.
Before she had even time to register this, she felt herself falling into white space. She felt herself land on something soft, even though she couldn't see anything. She looked around until she saw a human figure.
"Hello, child." The voice sounded familiar.
The figure came into focus and she recognized him. It was Gregory the seer, one of the priests whose bodies now littered the inner temple's floors.
"Listen to me well," he told her quietly. "I did not discover this until it was too late, but . . . there is no such thing as 'will be.' There is only 'might be.' However, if people such as you or I don't make the right decisions now, it is going to be 'will be' . . . although I am beyond that now," he added bitterly as he began to fade from view. "But you, just like everyone else alive now, can change this future. Make the choice now or I may have to discover that I am wrong." He faded completely from view.
She tried to call after him, but she was interrupted by a voice so beautiful that it was terrible. "Maura."
She saw the robed man from before come, walking slowly with the same smile on his face. It made him look benevolent and she almost walked towards him, but then she remembered when he had begun smiling.
"Maura."
She shrunk away from the man as he approached slowly but steadily. He was almost upon her.
"Maura."
She closed her eyes and lashed out with one hand.
"Ow!" a completely different voice yelled.
She blinked and found herself on the floor of the temple, looking into Simon's blind eyes. His hands rubbed his nose.
"Are you all right?" Simon asked. "You were mumbling in your sleep."
She looked around. The bodies had been carried away, but the blood still stained the floor.
She thought back to her dream and the beautiful man.
"I--I'm fine. Thank you," she replied.
Simon looked unconvinced, but he let it slide. "Well, that's good," he said doubtfully, straightening. "I'm sorry if I disturbed your rest." He walked over to where Marlel and Camellia were speaking in lowered voices. Straining her ears, she could make out their voices.
". . . if those men have any connection to that fortune-teller?" Camellia was asking.
"Don't concern yourself with them," Marlel reassured her. "A messenger was sent this morning to the Madran League's capital, requesting aid. The king will listen to us."
"Still, if they are connected," Simon said, joining the conversation. "Then it most certainly does concern us. If he has hired soldiers, especially that Bringer of Truth, it will make our task all the more difficult."
"Wait here," Marlel suggested. "When reinforcements arrive, I'm sure some of them will help you in your quest."
"That would not be wise." Simon leaned against the wall. "That man is dangerous. A normal soldier wouldn't stand a chance against him. I felt his power. That spell he used against Camellia was one of his weakest, just thrown over his shoulder in retreat. If we are going to get any help, we must seek aid from someone greater."
"I guess that we could go to the Madran League ourselves," Camellia suggested. "I'm sure we could pick up some more worthy warriors there. After all, if they send soldiers to match these mercenaries, then we are going to get the dregs of the army. We'll just have to find others."
"That's not going to be easy," Marlel warned. "Warriors as powerful as the ones you're seeking don't just come up and say--"
"I'm going with you!"
"What?" Marlel cried, as he and Camellia turned to see Maura standing.
Camellia smothered a laugh. "And maybe they do!" she chortled, elbowing Marlel.
Marlel was in no joking mood. "Maura, what are you--"
"I am going with you," Maura replied.
Marlel went on one knee in order to look Maura in the eyes. He laid one hand on her shoulder as he said gently, "I know you're upset and all about . . . this, but you shouldn't just go off on a reckless adventure . . ."
"Marlel. I saw Gregory," she replied softly.
His eyebrows shot up. "I'm guessing you don't mean this morning, when he was working in the garden."
She shook her head slowly.
Marlel looked around helplessly. "But wouldn't you just slow these two down in battle?" he asked hopelessly.
"Not really," Simon said helpfully. "I've been having trouble getting around now that Terry's not here. He always used to guide me and describe what was happening. She could do the same."
Marlel looked up at the ceiling pleadingly. "Fine!" he relented. "Since half the world has conspired to take my friend's daughter on a hopeless and dangerous world tour, I might as well let her go!"
"Thanks!" Maura said happily.
"Yeah, yeah," he said grumpily. "Don't mention it."
"You really do deserve our thanks. . . ." Simon began.
"I meant it when I said don't mention it!"
' ' ' ' ' '
"Well, I guess I should be saying goodbye," Marlel said. He scuffed one foot in the dirt. Behind him, the still living monks waved cheerfully from the large temple doorway.
"Farewell," Simon replied. "Good luck, now that this is over!"
"Keep her safe," Marlel ordered.
"Don't worry, I'll protect these two and keep them out of trouble," Camellia promised, bending over and slinging her arms over her shorter companions' shoulders.
Maura looked unimpressed. "Just what are you insinuating?"
Camellia smiled. "Oh, nothing!" she replied cheerfully.
Simon, foreseeing an argument, said hastily, "We'd better get going."
They started along, but turned back when the group of monks shouted their goodbyes and good wishes. They saw Marlel look around helplessly before grudgingly joining in with the enthusiastic waving.
"Thanks for all of your help!" Camellia called.
"Most assuredly, yes," Simon added. "Good luck."
"You said that before."
"They need all of the good luck they can get."
Maura looked back sadly at the place she had grown up in. There wasn't much left there for her but memories of better days. She turned around and looked forward, where she hoped happier days than this one.
Farther up the slope, a figure stood, watching the cheerful scene below. His clothes may have been changed, but under the black hood of his robes, the same blue eyes of the fortune-teller could be seen. Blue eyes that seemed to be turning to purple as a mist-like propriety was coming into them.
The man stood there even after the three travellers had disappeared into the distance. As he waited, he was rewarded with the sight of another man.
This one's short black hair was ruffled by the wind. He carried a longsword at his side, sheathed but ready to be drawn by the hand that was placed on it at all times. The other hand was nearly swallowed up by the wide sleeves of his red shirt. Travel-stained boots peeked out from underneath the billowing pants. His brown eyes were alert as he drew his homespun shirt around him tighter to keep back the cold winds that were blowing now. His aura of Venus Psynergy was impressive, but not unusually so.
When he reached the temple doors, only Marlel was still there. His hands reached in a pouch that was kept in place by a rope around his waist that was holding his pants up.
"My good fellow," he said, extra polite, revealing the two coins in his hand at the same time. "Have you seen a girl with a sword with a boy healer pass by this way?"
"Who are you, and what do you want?" Marlel asked suspiciously.
The hand holding the coins twitched impatiently. "That is my own business and I would appreciate it if you would keep your nose out of it. Have you seen them?"
"Not unless you answer my questions," Marlel replied, frowning.
"So you did. Why are you so . . . ah." The swordsman's eyes saw a bloodstain on the wall. "You have had trouble, haven't you? I'm sorry for being so irritable. I can see why you'd ask me, now. Well, I can tell you that I mean no harm to them. I am Rendal, a warrior from the village of Kandorea. Those two have left without permission, seeking to beat an opponent stronger than they. I was supposed to be the one to go, as the greatest warrior of my village. Now, I seek to return them home and finish the quest myself."
The fortune-teller didn't wait to hear the priest's answer. He set out once again, registering the face of his newest opposition.
' ' ' ' ' '
Karl finally got up with a splitting headache. He looked around and walked over to Sarl. Pulling the swordsman's head from the wall, he frowned, thinking of the swordsman who had defeated them.
Sarl was about to speak when he heard the muffled cries of Marl. He and Karl walked over and each grabbed a leg.
As they pulled, Sarl said angrily, "Who does that guy think he is?"
"Id'yot," Karl agreed.
"He was just lucky. That won't happen again!" Sarl announced.
"Yeah, we prob'ly won't see 'im again," Karl said.
"No! We're going to beat him!" Sarl exclaimed. "Then all will know us and fear us!"
Karl stopped pulling. "Do y' think we can do it?" he asked excitedly.
Sarl also stopped in the pulling. "Yeah! Watch out world, here come the Three!"
Marl's muffled yelling brought them once again back into the real world.
"Soon, all will know our names!" Sarl exclaimed.
"An' fear us!" Karl added.
There was a distinct popping noise as Marl finally was yanked out. The two pullers fell backwards at the sudden lack of resistance and hit their heads again. Marl fell backwards, his large bulk sitting on the two, who were now groaning at the weight.
"I'm free!" Marl shouted joyfully. "Hey, guys, com' look. . . . Guys?"
The axe wielder looked around, not noticing the two people pounding at his immense body from behind, meeting only the solidness that was Marl the Massacurer.
"Ah, well, t'ey'll be back soon," he concluded, leaning back for a nap.
"Noooooooo!" his partners screamed as the giant shadow fell over them.
Marl looked around yet again from his lying down position. "Wha'? Was tha' you?" he asked from on top of the two warriors. "Ah, well. Flo'r's funny feelin'."
Snores sounded through the chamber as the two warriors struggled against the weight of the third.
' ' ' '
There would be a muse skit here, but I don't want to endanger Stone Tablet by putting anything script formatted. I'll be taking down the muse skits as I reupload some chapters (I'm having Stone Tablet betaed by Tetra Seleno-dono), but they will be moved to "http: ww w.livejournal.c om /users /feather dusthero" (remove spaces).