[Crown Tavern] The hunter stalks the prey (Alphonsus/Open)

[Cyrus Marius]

OOC: This thread is open for people who want to be at the Crown Tavern while this adventure is going on, but it is a continuation from here with Alphonsus as the peer-mod. Other than that, have fun.

First Cycle in the Month of Kalendryas in the season of Winter; Era I of the Celestine Mandate, Era XIII Post Fractum.

The warmth comming from the Tavern washed over Cyrus like a wave as he stepped inside from the chill of the winter evening. The darkening was a dismal one, and the weather outside promised to get worse before it got better. Many people had taken refuge for the night inside the comfortable walls of the Crown Tavern, and Cyrus cursed under his breath at the sheer number of bodies packed into the common room.

Dressed once again in his dark wine colored tunic and black leggings and boots, Cyrus was a shadow amongst the masses. His black leather eyepatch drew a curious glance or two, but the deadly broad sword that hung in it's black leather home on his left hip spoke much louder about the character of the man.

Not knowing whom it was who exactly posted the bounty, Cyrus began to make his way towards where he could see one of the Crown's waitresses serving some customers their drinks. He would inquire about the man, a half-Sylrosian by the name of Zhalmain Dupre, and he would find out what information he could about the individual. The half-elf was wanted for murder and robbery, and he sounded like a violent and dangerous menace to Prime's populace. Cyrus was not concerned about that however, the feeling of apprehension or caution never once entering the soldier's mind. Zhalmain Dupre would learn what a truly dangerous man was like when Cyrus found him.

[Faust D'Rinishad]

Life was never uneventful for the likes of Faust D’Rinishad. Adversities always had inexplicable methods of finding him. On those rare occasions, though, he discovered himself reveling in the tranquilities of life, and none greater in his opinion than a fine loitering at Alleria Prime’s prominent Crown Tavern and Inn. The young Prince of Har’oloth, having shortly returned from his endeavor to the Great Mountains of Arium with the notorious Fidelis Meridius, had recently arrived on behalf of the summoning of a beloved friend, one Liselle Vampyler, Governess of Prime.

Ensconced on a seat situated at the bar, the ebon-skinned elf’s mythril-bedecked hand clasped onto a goblet brimming with the finest red wine that the establishment had to offer. Swirling the contents of the cup momentarily with a few half-hearted rotations of the wrist, the dark elf chuckled unknowingly to himself before sipping at the lip of the wide-brimmed goblet. As the succulent wine vainly attempted to inebriate his veins, the Vysstichi’s crimson gaze caught a glimpse of a figure navigating inconspicuously through the crowd.

A Troublemaker, the dark elf mused.

Subtly craning his head to afford himself an acuter view of the blatantly armed human, the Vysstichi Lord merely sighed and shook his head. The Crown Tavern and Inn was reputable for its fine food and services, but it was equally renowned for its strict policy of disarmament as well. And though most of the inhabitants probably wielded a number or two of illegal devices concealed beneath the thick mantles that they wore (the dark elf included), all of them nevertheless had adopted additional measures to insure that the authorities throughout the room remained oblivious to their possessions.

Conscious of the obsidian-clad man as he advanced upon one of the waitresses, Faust casually propped his elbow onto the counter and cupped his chin into an open palm as he apathetically speculated from nearby. For whatever reason the man had chosen to deliberately showcase his weapon for the entire world to see was beyond the dark elf’s comprehension, and thus for the moment, it seemed, Faust’s interest was somewhat piqued.

[Eliss'yara]

Eliss'yara manuvered through the bar, wincing a little as she pressed by the sea of bodies. The weather outside was terrible, and it looked as if she wasn't the only one who wouldn't be able to make it home tonight.

Making sure to keep her hood pulled up, Eliss'yara pulled herself up onto a barstool. "Tea, please," she said, shouting to make herself heard above the din. She wrapped her legs girlishly around the barstool legs as she looked around aimlessly. Her blue eyes widened as she spotted a man--a warrior--walking through the bar with an enormous broad sword at his side. What could he want?

The elf girl tugged on her hood self-conciously. She hoped he was just another soldier looking for food and drink after a long day, but he seened to have a purpose.

She jumped a little when the teacup touched her arm. Taking it, her arm brushed the patron beside her. "Sorry," she mumbled, and did a double take. It was a Vysstichi elf who sat next to her, and a rich one by the look of it. He was also watching the warrior. Eliss'yara sipped her tea quietly. Something was about to happen; she could feel it thick in the air.

[Alphonsus]

As Cyrus entered the area, many noticed him and that included the requestor. The requestor would have to judge the man first before they would formally meet.

’A noticeable man had just entered, and this man had being reported by my spy to be the man who had taken the bounty slip. No doubt a man strong in the art of strong arm combat, but would he be a man that could bring his prey alive to his home, or an animal that allowed no prey to be alive, lest it counterattacked or escape at moment’s of self folly. I will have to further… what do they call it… judge the man.’

The requestor did a gesture that would not being out of character in a tavern, as the gesture was one that was used to signal a waitress, though within the gesture, was a subtle movement conveying a special message. A gesture within gesture. A cloaked gnome suddenly rushed forward, toward Cyrus and stared up at him, revealing only the gnome’s brown eyes. ”You looking for Mister Zhalmain Dupre? You in right place. You hunt with paper B or with paper Q?”

It was an odd question, but a question that made the waitress jumped a little and ran off with her tails between her legs. Scared Dorin? If Cyrus was to ask, the gnome shook his head and answered as though as Cyrus was something without brains. Paper from Bounty Hall or Paper from special Quest Hall?

Whichever he answered, the gnome led him to a table where an ordinary, most forgettable looking person sat. There, the gnome removed a dagger from his boot and stabbed it into the table, staring at the man, willing him to leave the table or his head would be the next to be stabbed.

‘Good, good, my gnome did well. Will he protect the hapless innocent, ignore the situation or bullied the innocent. What better way to judge a man than to know how his inner character was to seeing a hapless person bullied.’

Sit man with eye patch looking for Mister Zhalmain Dupre. Tell what you plan, tell tell, and ignore that stupid man. Not worth noticing.

The gnome challenged the man with a stare, challenging him to retort, challenging him to even move from where he was left sitting. All these were done quickly that Cyrus would have no chance to stop the gnome, as he had just arrived at the table, though he had seen the whole commotion.

ooc:
‘This is the requestor thoughts
Future reference: ‘Requestor Speech.’
And I'm ignoring the rest first

[Faust D'Rinishad]

Yawning apathetically, the dark elf raised a gloved hand to stifle the noise before setting his palm back upon the counter. His digits tapped rhythmically against the wooden top, drumming consecutively from index finger to pinky and then reversing the other way. Proceeding with the simple pattern for several uneventful minutes, the Vysstichi finally discontinued his habitual gesticulation when an arm from a nearby patron inadvertently grazed his elbow.

Tilting his head away from the scene of the armed human temporarily, Faust settled a calm gaze upon an Esh’lahier woman seated beside him. So absentminded and self-absorbed had he been that he hadn’t noticed the woman subtly mount the chair beside him. Embarrassed by his lack of scrutiny, he instinctively offered her a light smile in response.

“It’s no problem, my fault entirely.” He replied, inspecting her briefly with a cursory glance as to not alarm her. It was certainly uncommon when Esh’lahier and Vysstichi interacted, and it was only under those rare circumstances when they permitted to do so without fear of retaliation or ulterior motives. Luckily, though, the Crown Tavern was one of the few places in all of the Empire where one could frequent and meet other races without fully suspecting a dagger in the back.

Shrewdly noting that the woman was similarly observant of the strange spectacle transpiring nearby, the dark elf held the thought in check and sipped again at the brim of his goblet. “A friend of yours?” He quietly asked.

[Eliss'yara]

Eliss'yara smiled politely in response. Although the Vysstichi hardly seemed to look at her, she got the sense she was being watched anyway. Or maybe she was just being paranoid. She had never been in such close proximity to her dark elf brethern before.

She snapped her head back to face the young man when he addressed her again. "Who? You mean--" She nodded to the warrior. "No, I've never seen him before." She lowered her voice to the softest whisper. "What do you suppose he wants?" She was assuming the Vysstichi didn't know the human either, for he seemed as curious as she was.

The elf girl sat up a little straighter, eyes wide as a small cloaked figure approached the warrior, speaking to him in harsh whispers before leading him off to a table.

Eliss'yara glanced up at her new companion, wondering what he thought about all this, but hesitated to ask.

[Faust D'Rinishad]

Although his lethargic mien was misleading, the resplendent dark elf’s lackluster demeanor was not an accurate representation of the perceptive and witty individual within. Crafty and subtle, the Vysstichi Lord was highly conscious of the activities transpiring around him –including the armed soldier’s engagement- though he feigned insouciance.

Glancing upwards and chuckling at the Esh’lahier girl’s alleged innocence, the dark elf’s crimson orbs flashed with mild amusement as his lips fanned into a thin but seemingly candid smile. “Yes, the one with the giant sword over there.” He commented, purposely conveying his surprise by the one-eyed human’s boldness. Few in the Empire, after all, would brave disregarding the rules of the Crown Tavern so brazenly.

Awaiting the woman’s response, Faust’s head canted marginally as she denied any associations with the man. He was not surprised, though, as the human’s disposition hardly seemed of the genial brand. Nevertheless, his slender shoulders ascended in a sincere shrug as she returned a question of her own.

“His type is not uncommon around here.” the Vysstichi Lord remarked with a faint yawn. Lolling his head to the side to release the accumulated tension in his neck, Faust brought the wine goblet to his mouth again and sipped delicately at its lip. “See the way he moves and conducts himself…” he continued, intermittently looking at the woman to see if she was listening to him. “My guess would be that he’s a mercenary or soldier of sort. Would you agree?”

[Cyrus Marius]

Cyrus could feel the eyes on him as he cut through the crowds in the Tavern, scrutinizing him with suspicion and apprehension. He did not mind, and in a way, it aided his business in the Crown that evening. Theatricality and preconception had it's benefits, and with his ebon garb and eye-patch, Cyrus knew that he was the topic of more than one whispered conversation. The gleaming broad sword that hung conspicuously at his side was the main tool in his arsenal of intimidation, as was the comfortable and familiar way that he wore it on his hip. Cyrus had his military visa proclaiming him a member of the Imperial Army and the bounty card that gave him the authority of the city's militia, but he prefered to let people make assumptions themselves. Besides, if someone wanted to take the young soldier's blade, they were welcome to try.

As Cyrus approached one of the nearby waitresses, a whirl of motion around the level of his belt buckle caught his attention. Glancing down, the soldier looked right into the bright brown eyes of a strange gnome that had come upon him swiftly, eagerly even. The waitress removed herself from the area with equal haste, and Cyrus' mind immediately began to digest and process the information. The gnome then asked the soldier a strange question, but he mentioned the name of the man that Cyrus was hunting.

"Yes, I am looking for Zhalmain Dupre. However," The soldier moved his left palm casually to rest on the beveled pommel of his knightly sword, "this is what I hunt with, gnome. What can you tell me about Dupre?"

The cloaked and hooded gnome had already moved off however, ignoring Cyrus' question and shooting through the crowd like a miniature cutpurse. The soldier had to quickly glide and dart through the press of people to keep up, and he could still feel the eyes watching him go about his business in the room. As the gnome led him to a table, Cyrus took a moment to glance around the room, keeping his eye open for an individual that might fit his prey's discription. He saw a strange sight that caught his attention, an Esh’lahier and Vysstichi engaged in quiet conversation, and though the soldier could not follow the conversation, he could feel their elven eyes watching him. The vysstichi in particular caught his attention, something formidable within his mien and bearing, and Cyrus' sapphire eye lingered on him for a moment.

A hard sound behind him drew him back to his task, and he turned to see the gnome's dagger sunk deep into the wood of the table he had led them to. The cloaked gnome's beady eyes stared menacingly at a nondiscipt man who already sat at the table, and the gnome gruffly ordered Cyrus to take a seat at the soon to be unoccupied booth. The soldier glanced towards the man to see if he would defend himself and his right to enjoy the evening unmolested, but he neither moved nor spoke in his own defense. Frowning, Cyrus reached over and jerked the knife free of the table with a single, powerful motion, and he slid the naked weapon into his black leather sword belt before sinking into a seat.

Ignoring the questions the gnome fired at him, Cyrus turned towards the ordinary looking man and addressed him with a non-threatening and neutral look on his naturally fierce countence.

"Serale, friend. Forgive the gnome; one can not expect courtesy when dealing with a reject of the fae folk." Cyrus cast an icy glare at the diminutive creature, then turned back to the stranger, "However, we have business to discuss, and if you would grant us the use of the table, we would be much obliged."

The soldier then turned away from the man, not entirely impressed with someone who would not move to defend themselves, especially from an aggressor as 'menacing' as the cloaked gnome. Cyrus turned his lone azure orb on the short figure and answered the questions that the creature had previously asked.

"As you said, I am looking for Zhalmain Dupre, and my plan is to find him and bring him to justice. If you can help me, fine. If not, then point me in the direction of someone who can and leave me to my business."

[Alphonsus]

'Good good, cold exterior, rather good interior, and those two elves looked weird together. The servant gnome had done well.'

The gnome jumped of the chair and onto the table. He walked towards Cyrus and stared at him for a moment, said "there!", pointing towards the door where a black cloaked man had appeared, jumped to the next to the chair Cyrus was sitting, then to the floor before moving away.

The cloak man dropped his cloak on the running gnome and walked towards Cyrus proposefully. The human looked odd. Blonde hair, battled scarred face, muscle was found on almost every part of his body, and was clothed in very loose clothing, making the human looked like one that had suddenly lost a lot of weight within a short time. The human looked at the seat where the gnome had left, and made a purposeful action to pull the chair out a little and sat with his body leaning foward as if something was causing him pain if he were to sit straight up.

"I see the gnome had made a fool of you." The human gestured towards where the dagger was kept, only to find that there was no dagger. "A sneaky theif if I were to say. I am Hath, servant to my master that is observing us at this very moment. He had no wish to appear in front of his hunter unless proven to be true to the cause of justice, highly skilled, and reasonable intelligence. I have being charged to ask you a simple question before giving you a letter from my master, whatever your answer may be."

The human stood up smilingly, and asked. "I am in disguise. What race am I?"

If Cyrus was to look closely, he would had spotted pointy ear protruding his head, sharp teeth could be seen, and his movement seemed rather unbalanced. He would have many choices to chose from. Cyrus may opt to chose at random, or after racking his brains for the letter would be given to Cyrus at the very end.

After making his choice, Hath would had given the true answer and the letter before sitting down, and waiting for Cyrus answer.

The letter would read.

To whoever that accepted the bounty:

I trust that by now, you have met my thieving gnome servant and my servant skilled in the art of disguise. I hope that you have guessed correctly, but that would not matter much if you can get my man.

The target, Zhalmain Dupre, a half-sylrosian male was another of my servant. Highly prone to to violent, and that made him a good body guard. Alas, he went the wrong way, murdering and robbing when I was out of town. Ashame I was, but justice had to be done. I would prefer him stand trial and see the err of his faults, though I highly doubt that it would be possible for his violent nature.

If you could, I would have to praise you, something I rarely do, for being both brain and brawn. For more information, talk to Hath, or whatever name my servant would chose to give you.

Signed,
Embarrased Employer of Zhalmain Dupre

P.S. Do tell your name to Hath

"I wonder what his response would be, knowing that I hired him to punish the man I employed. Zhalmain oh Zhalmain, what had I done to invoke such a curse from my God. You murder, you stole. May Jorel accept your soul when you leave this world either in Trial or in the sword of this man."

~~~

Meanwhile, the forgettable man quickly moved towards the pair of odd unlikely elves when the gnome had left. He would not want to be stranded alone with the other man, looking even more dangerous than the gnome, though he seemed kind. It was better to be safe than sorry.

"Why does such aweful things happen to me? Am I one that looked like I could be bullied everywhere I go?" The man moaned softly to the two elves. If they had looked carefully, the man had the marking of a Sylrosian Elf, though all his elven features were just showing. Many would mistake him for a human rather than an elf!

[Cyrus Marius]

The soldier's mouth curled in disdain as the gnome came near his person with a strange expression on his tiny countence. He quickly pointed and shouted at a new-commer, and as Cyrus turned, he felt a small rush of air at his belt indicating that the dagger he had appropriated from the cloaked gnome was gone. His hand went to his belt to verify this, and he smirked wryly upon confirmation. He knew there was a reason he wasn't overly fond of the fae types.

Cyrus watched as the dark garbed man made his way towards the table, his lone blue eye appraising the strange man carefully. There was something odd about his body language, something that the soldier thought he had glimpsed before on the diverse and colorful streets of Prime. As the man took a seat, adjusting his posture with painstaking deliberation, Cyrus remained silent and observant, giving nothing of himself away and preferring to let the strange man speak first.

After the strange man had introduced himself and finished speaking, Cyrus responded, "Gnomes make fools of themselves, and this one was only retrieving property of his own that I was going to hold until he had demonstrated he was intelligent enough to own it. In any case, it is good to meet you Hath, I am called Blackbeard, and I am a bounty hunter."

The strange man had made an even stranger request however, and he asked Cyrus to pinpoint what race he was under what ever disguise he wore. Cyrus took a long moment before answering, his sharp mind swiftly going over all the information the stranger had been giving him all this time. As he gained in skill and experiance in combat, Cyrus was becomming more and more aware of a person's nature and prowess simply by observing their body language and unconcious characteristics. It was akin to watching for tells in a game of cards, although in the soldier's dangerous line of work, the stakes were often very high indeed.

With the interbreeding that often happened between races and even between species, there could be no way to know for certain without any more information. None the less, Cyrus took the information provided to him and he began to formulate his most informed guess. The uncomfortable body language spoke the loudest to him, the slightly awkward way that the stranger held himself and moved about. His features could have been a combination of any number of races, though the soldier could see traces of elven heritage in the shape of the ears, and strangely, the man's teeth seemed almost unnaturally sharp. Cyrus scrutinized the stranger for another moment, azure orb roaming up and down the man's form, and then he leaned back in his seat with an indifferent expression on his face.

"If I had to guess, my disguised friend, I would say that you are a Dracon."

Cyrus then accepted the letter from the strange man before he could be told if he was correct or not, and the soldier glanced down at the elegant script on the parchment, reading it swiftly to himself. So, Zhalmain Dupre was the bounty poster's former employee, was he? Cyrus was not a judgemental person, as a man who killed for a living he could not afford the luxery. It was not uncommon for brutish and violent civilians to go rogue and take more than they had been given, and the man's employer could not be held entirely responsible for another person's actions. In his letter, the bounty poster requested that Dupre be brought alive to trial if at all possible. Cyrus read the line stoically, filing the request away in the back of his mind before looking back to the strange man before him and waiting to hear if he was right or wrong in his guess.

[Alphonsus]

'I will have to send Hath back to disguise school after settling with sad sad Dupre. How can an acclaimed master of disguise me so easily unmasked.'

Hath smiled, and nodded when he finished the letter. "A guess as good as many, Blackbeard. Dracon. What had I gave away, or had I not disguise well enough, but whatever the case is, I will tell you where to find your hunt, though it would not be easy. We saw him entering a sewer with his pet falcon and his pet dog, both trained in assisting him in combat."

Hath paused for a moment, then continued slowly as his master had told him to. "Before we posted a bounty, we had sent 4 of our man, all well-trained after him, but he had either removed, and/or persuaded them to his cause. Afterwhich, one questor, as they called themself from the shadows went after him, but no news was heard. It is still not too late to... allow me to thank you for your time."

Time passed a little, allowing the hunter to reconsider his move, but Hath doubted that this man needed anymore reconsideration. Defeating one that defeated another hunter, especially one from the shadows would be a great feat and honor.

"My master had told me that you would be allowed a little help from us if required, though I was to make the decision. I think you would be able to do much with these items I am allowed to offer. Your pick on the combination of items offered" Hath offered.

The item 'package' that Hath had offered were:
Either
A well crafted sword (Twin of the sword Dupre was holder)
A trained guard that would help capture the falcon if it were to attack

OR
A sleeping drug. When taken orally, the victim would fall asleep
A trained guard that would remove the dog from the scene

[Cyrus Marius]

"So, the sewers, hm?" Cyrus thought to himself as Hath spoke.

This Zhalmain Dupre sounded as if he were a bit more of a handful than the young soldier had originally believed. His previous bounty had been described as violent as well, but he died in front of over a hundred people without so much as a whimper. The falcon and the dog were an interesting ingredient thrown in the mix, and the fact that Dupre had either slain or converted so many previous hunters to his cause was a remarkable accomplishment. Cyrus realized he could be walking into a gang down there, hiding in the bowels of the city, and he had no way to know what kind of odds he faced.

Yet, though these thoughts flashed through the soldier's mind, his confidence in his ability to succeed never wavered. He felt no fear, no apprehension what so ever at the thought of confronting Dupre's hoard. It was not a suicidal sort of mind frame, nothing that involved the acceptance of self-destruction, it was almost the exact opposite of that, as if he knew himself to be invincible and already victorious. The death of his loved ones had shown him what true horrors can lurk in the world, and as he took life after life in the service of the Empire, he was conquering the fear inside of all men that kept them bound to mortal constraints.

As Hath finished speaking, Cyrus digested all the information and nodded slowly, remaining silent for a moment. He would, of course, still accept the bounty, but the new information was very helpful in putting together the entire situation.

"I thank you for what help you have given me thus far Hath, and I would be pleased to accept what other aid you and your master offer."

Cyrus listened to the two suggestions offered by the disguised Dracon, and considered them both for a moment. The sleeping drug might be more effective in subduing Dupre to bring him back for a trial, but what good would that do Cyrus if he still had to cut his way through up to six armed guards to get to him? With naught but his knightly sword on his side and his cheap, plain dagger hidden in his tunic, he could use the additional weapon far more than the non-lethal sedative. The second pair of eyes would also be a valuable asset, and if the guard could take care of the only aerial threat thus far known about, all the better.

"I believe the sword would aid me more in this hunt than the drug, Hath."

[Alphonsus]

"Just as I suspected, this man would prefer a frontal assault to a stealth attempt. It might do him better with that sword in his hand. I wonder how am I to follow him into the fray without him seeing me... Oh... I should have trained myself on falconry"

Hath nodded at the reply and believed that it was the best action against a man such as Zhalmain. "Wise choice Blackbeard. Attack his honor, and you would only have to worry about his blade and the animals he controls, well, animal, as I am sure the guard with you will capture the falcon easily. I will go now, and may justice be held."

As if it was pre-arranged, and most likely it was, a brown furred Dorin entered the Crown, and walked towards them gracefully.. She was considered short for a Dorin, but one could see that she was well-trained in combat from the way she walked, and the sword scars that could be seen in her brown arms had proven her experience. She had a thick glove on her right paw, and two swords could be seen hanging at the left waist.

That will be your companion. Hath told Cyrus before looking at the Dorin. "And for this mission, you will be called Falcon, as you will be capturing the falcon unharmed. I will leave you with Blackbeard for now. Give him the sword, get the falcon, and get out as fast as you could."

Hath started out of the tavern, but before he closed the door, he turned to Cyrus and said sadly. "It is a regret that she have to leave before you finish your fight, but we cannot afford to lose any guard. We hope you understand. May the Gods be on yourside Blackbeard."

The sword that Cyrus was given was truly a well tempered sword. Edges sharp enough to draw blood upon a slight touch, blade harder than normal, yet flexible enough to bend slightly and the sword as a whole was much lighter than the knight sword Cyrus was equipped with.

The Dorin had allowed Cyrus some time to test the sword before said in a sad tone. "When you are ready and have no questions, tell me, and I will lead you to the place where Zhalmain was last seen."

[Cyrus Marius]

Cyrus watched the Dorin approach, remaining silent as she came to a halt before him and Hath. He appraised her carefully, boldly eye'ing the female guard and judging her worthiness at arms. She carried herself with the poise and swagger of the warrior breed, and her scarred hide bore testament to the battles she had survived. The blades at her hip were fine weapons, and she looked entirely comfortable with their weight at her side.

The soldier turned his attention back to Hath as the Dracon continued to speak, but he still chose to remain silent, absorbing the information and processing it in his mind. So he would not be able to count on the veteran Dorin guard in the midst of the battle? So be it. As long as the news came now and not when he had already engaged the enemy, it was fine. He would simply not count on that asset when he organized his plan of attack.

Cyrus nodded goodbye to Hath as he turned and left the Tavern, then he fixed his attention back on the female Dorin, now called Falcon for the purposes of this mission. Her muscular arm was extended towards the soldier, and in her paw she held one of the swords she had worn on her side. Cyrus accepted the blade and glanced around at the Tavern's patrons, many of whom were glaring at the two of them openly. Brandished weapons were an unwelcome sight in the Crown, but the two warriors would soon be on their way.

The soldier took a moment to admire the weapon, testing the balance and feel in his hands. It was an overall smaller weapon than the sword that hung at his side, yet not so compact as to be called a true short sword. It was a classic design, almost unremarkable really, with a straight double-edged blade, a slighty waisted single handed grip carved of a beautiful reddish wood, and a very small, subtly curving steel crossguard, designed more to stop the hand from sliding up the blade then ever catching an opponent's weapon. The pommel was a simple round shape, pragmatic and designed to bring the balance closer into the swordsman's hand. The high quality of the sword was apparent even upon first glance however, and the soldier had never before held a weapon so well balanced and so light, yet solidly constructed and sturdy enough to withstand the rigors of combat.

Smiling slighty to himself, Cyrus lowered the blade and looked back at the Dorin as she began to speak. There was an odd note in her rough, canine voice, and it caught Cyrus' attention. Perhaps the guard knew Zhalmain, it was not unfeasible, they did presumably work for the same employer, after all.

"I am ready when you are, my friend. However, I would appreciate any information you have about the man we are going to find. The more forewarned I am, the better prepared I will be to deal decisively with this situation. Zhalmain will be brought to justice for his actions, but whether or not that justice is on the end of blade is yet to be decided."

[Alphonsus]

”What information do you need.” Falcon said. It was more of a statement than a question. ”I would believe you might want to know Zhalmain is highly skilled in dagger throwing and even better skilled in his sword dancing techniques. Other than that, you might have known that he is rather volatile in nature, but forget about that once combat begins. In battle, taunts are usually fell into deaf ears, feint from the opponent always gave Zhalmain an upper ha