The NightWalker

The nightwalker stepped out of the confines of the forest undergrowth and into one of the many shafts of moonlight filtering down from the canopy.

He flicked his weapon, a medium, light kantana made of refined obsidian gave the sword a dark sheen, one that many people would avoid.

Himself, he wore a grey cloak, the colour of the mists hereabouts with a crux immissa or a Greek cross was painted across its back, also, it reflected a dark sheen, although it was hard to tell whether it was of a painted black or something else.

Something tickled his ear.

Three men charged out, weapons leveled, judging by the battle scars and the grim expressions, he guessed that they were more than your everyday thieves.

One man rose his weapon.

From the cloak's cowl where the moonlight revealed the shaved lower bottom of the nightwalker's face, a smirk emerged.

And the weapon came down upon thin air.

The mercenary looked confused to as where might his target might have gone when a gleaming red line drew itself across his throat. He dropped his weapon as he sank to the forest floor, trying in vain to stem the flow of his life.

The other two backed towards each other as their comrade died, they could not help him and he too, knew it. Their eyes scanned the surrounding landscape, searching for the target, weapons at the ready.

A sword, thrown like a dagger, flew out of the darkened forest. One mercenary saw it too late and tried to block it.

It stabbed and punctured into his skull, cracking it. Fluid started to flow out even as he collapsed, weapon falling out of his hand.

"Trust." 

The word, barely, a whisper, was uttered, but not by the last man, who heard it, and shivered. It carried, that one word, indescribable coldness.

Something blurred smashed into the man's chest, and he flew backwards. Weapon flung out of his hand.

"No one."

He was getting up when a grip, harder than iron, wound itself around his throat.

"Believe."

He kicked valiantly, being lifted up from the ground.

"Nothing."

Something cracked, and his legs fell limp.

-Captain Mook

Renne ran her fingers across the panel of her oak bow. It was beautiful, sanded down and with much rubbing from her hands, it had a glossy feel and look.

Her quiver lay nearby, it was made of leather, of which animal she did not know though, for it was bought from a market two towns away. The arrows, however, was fetched by herself from chicken feathers and sharpened pieces of firewood. It could, however, despite the simple materials, hit quite painfully and accurately, to the pain of some local boys.

Her jet black hair cascaded past her left shoulder as she continued to look out of the window at the forest idly, wondering among her thoughts by staring at the rain. The sound of slight pattering rain on the rooftop of the small hut also served to calm her nerves.

"Miss."

She jerked from her reverie at the word, Jeryl had been extremely quiet for the past half hour, thus so being driven out of her mind by more 'important' thoughts.

"Your father will be wondering where you have gone." Jeryl continued, seeing that Renne did not reply.

"Sure." She sighed and got up. Allowing the old man to drape a water proof cloak over her shoulders.

Rain started to fall harder.

-Captain Mook

He stood, by the edge of the cliff. Weapon sheaved. Arms hanging by his side, and as usual, with the cowl worn on his head.

The mild wind pressed his cloak outwards, giving an impression of a ghost. A dark being. Despite the slight rain falling onto his face, not did he once flinch or give any indication that it affected him in any way.

The Nightwalker's mouth curled upwards as he thought of past events, like those three men he had destroyed before. They were good, but not enough.

He flexed his fingers, they were coarse, rough from their many years of usage. But still, they were well trained. As were himself.

He felt the stones beneath his well worn sandals, both round and sharp, but that footwear that he wore, was just for sentimental value. He could, he knew, be lighter, faster, without them hindering. 

Pausing to take his breath, he took a single step backwards, concentrating his both his body and his mind, willing them to be one.

Three steps forward.

And the wind was rushing past his ears.

-Captain Mook

Water in the field, they walked in the rain. Jeryl, silent by her side, held up an umbrella to keep off the rain over himself and his ward.

"Miss, sir is going to wonder what his daughter is doing out in the rain. Moreover, i sense he is getting a wind of what you are doing."

"So if you say so, then is it wrong to meet a good friend of mine?" Her voice, carrying a slight tone of indignation, made Jeyrl look towards her direction.

Her hazel eyes looked back into the greys of his, she stopped walking, keeping her gaze on him.

Jeryl sighed, a deep sound, "It is not wrong mademoiselle, but your father might not want it."

"Why does he have to interfere in everything i do?" She looked away, but Jeryl thought he saw some moisture in her eyes.

___________________________

The Nightwalker stepped onto gravel, one that of a human laid one.

It had been sometime since he had visited a town, and a well guarded one at that. Before they let him in, he was to surrender his weapons, he knew that these guards were well armored and had numbers that alone, was impossible to defeat.

His side was lighter, but near his chest it was heavier with a concealed dagger.

He kept to the darkness and away from the lighted oil lamps that lit the street, adbit not brightly so. Light from the houses too, lighted the street, with all this light, it was not hard to see why he generally kept away from human settlements.

But tonight, it was a different case.

His informant had said it was the Red Mallet. So far, he had passed two taverns bearing names not similar to that.

Another building up front on the street threw more light onto the street than the surrounding buildings and by the shape of the sign, he knew that he had found the place he was looking for.

-Captain Mook

"Ready?"

Renne looked wearily at her instructor, his arms spread out in a standard combat position, body crouched low. Standing on the well kept grass of the mansion.

She nodded slowly, keeping her eyes on him all the time.

"On my count of three.. one.."

She readied herself, gripping her wand tighter.

"Three."

He flashed, and disappeared. Renne was stunned for a moment, Did he say two? Or -

A staff gripped around her throat and forced her back onto a chest. A hand held her arm, restricting the movement of her master hand while she struggled, pinned against him and slowly but surely being choked. Pinpricks of light started to appear within her eyes as she was suffocated.

Suddenly, she fell forwards, gasping. Released.

"Don't ever trust your opponent. Didn't I teach you that in your first lesson?"

"You cheated." Renne said, massaging her throat.

He peered at her over his spectacles, "All's fair in love and war Renne."

"Oh so - Fle Monte!"

He deflected her Wind Slice, or as directly translated, with a casual flick of his hand, it disspated into the trimmed trees, not so much as cutting off a single leaf.

"See? One must be prepared for all circumstances." He said, walking over to his dejected student. "However, i would like to comment on today's performance.."

She shut her eyes, waiting for the inevitable.

"You did well today. Good job."

Those words rang on in her ears even as she looked up, he offering a hand.

-Captain Mook

She continued to climb the stairs even as Jeryl bode her teacher farewell as he went, although she had already done it.

The mansion was grand even by most rich standards, with various art pieces collected from different regions dotting the interior of the vast building, windows overlooking the greater grounds, exquisite furniture in each and every room, it was one structure that was the envy of many, and the people living within it even more so.

Her walkway towards her room was lined with carpets and tapestries that she did not take particular notice of since they were changed ever so frequently by her father, although now that he was off away to another business trip that it changed lesser, but still, under his orders, the servants continued to change them.

She laid her hand on the doorknob to her room, which was, sparkling clean, and pushed the door inwards.

A dark shape.

"Thinking of me?" it asked.

-Captain Mook

It was a silhouette, as his back was against the many windows that threw light into the room.

However, by that familiar shape and voice, as well as him moving to let the light fall on his face, did she break into a wide smile.

"Josh! How did you get up.." She started then saw at least one window was slightly ajar. "You climbed up?" She ended in surprise.

He looked down, shuffling his foot, slightly embarrassed. "Sorry."

"That is amazing!" He looked up in surprise, he had expected her tochide him or something to that extent. But she did not leave him any time to wonder as she grabbed his arm and practically dragged him over to that particular window.

"When are you going to teach me how to do that?" She asked, pointing down towards the ground floor of the building. 

"Hey, aren't you going to ask me if i did get the item you wanted? Instead of me teaching you how to climb up walls?"

"Oh yes. Nearly forgot. Do you have it?" Renne asked.

"Wait. Let me get this straight." He said slowly, as if trying to compehend something rather diffcult. "YOU NEARLY FORGOT?" He yelled, making her cringe, "I went through two regions, two seas, one of which i spent nearly the whole trip vomiting, another as a stowaway, nearly got my throat slit and got robbed. And you nearly forgot? What do you take me as?"

"I'm sorry." She looked at Josh, but he just turned away. " Come on Josh, please?"

"Huh." His voice sounded muffled, but he held out a hand, within its palm a bag which she knew, contained the precious Sha powder that Josh had gone a long way to get for her.

-Captain Mook