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[Arakad]

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A steady breeze was blowing through the thin night air across the floating continent known as Malas. The crystal glen glistened with the lights of the stars that surrounded it. On the main floor of the large estate a pair of roughed up royal leggings scratched a mark into the hard wood floor of Ellysia DeMonte's house. The man who had eased his way into the place wasn't ordinarily the sort to leave tracks, but it was no ordinary night.

The prowler moved quietly through the floor. By Malas standards the place was rather huge, fitting for royalty. A twelve foot ceiling and holding both customs of the feudal lords mixed with the castle foundations, with arch pained windows on every floor. A open loft took up the side of the floor allowing a view of the surrounding land.

Stopping in the center of a small room that was made off to the side, the prowler looked around slowly. It was dark, the only illumination coming from a set of dual lamp posts upon the walk way below. Yet in the half-light the man somehow took in every detail around him, his attention lingering on the placement of personal items: books sealed and placed neatly upon the arms of the chairs, a kamishimo draped casually over a chair by the fireplace, a kasa hanging near the hearth fireplace. As he continued to scan the room, the back of his right hand absently stroked the thick, wood of one of the short cabinet. His left hand hung straight at his side, was clenching tight around a herbalists pouch.

From an end table, the prowler picked up a known book to him. Scaning its contents he came across several familiar names... Brandon... Orrin...many others he read to himself.

Staring absently to the books contents as he was lost in thought, he could almost hear her voice speaking with the words, imagine the characteristic sounds of her movements replacing the night noises in the old estate. Then, looking up, he was struck by his own pained expression reflected dimly in the pained window by the fireplace. He contemplated the face for a moment. His name was Arakad Blackthorn, but not many knew that, But she did. She knew him as friend, Autist and simply Arakad. And she, or anyone else for that matter, would have found the expression on his face this night - anxious, vulnerable, a strikingly unfamiliar one to say the least.

Arakad moved toward the other side of the estate now. The first bedroom he came to was Ellysia's room. He stoped at the threshold of the oriental door and slid it to a crack peering inside, suddenly aware that his mouth was dry, tasted of ashes. The room was heavy with her scent. A normal person would not have noticed it, but to Arakad, a trained tracker and well at detecting those things that are hidden to others his senses are some what folded over the normal humans. To Arakad, this scent was nearly over powering.

He let the scent draw him into the room, and there he stood but for a moment, delighting in the complex beauty of it. There was a range of perception found in nature that people were simply oblivious to, entire levels of sensation reserved for those trained, animals, and himself. Here was a part of Ellysia that no one else had the capacity to understand, to appreciate as thoroughly as he did.

So acutely focused on his reverie were Arakads senses that he was unaware another person stood in the room with a until Tessen War Fan reached a point very close to his main artery at his neck. He wasn't ordinarily the type to be taken by surprise but, truly, this was no ordinary night.

Instinct jolted him into action, from within his very soul, or souls as the case may be, his right arm went for is wakizashi and with barely a thought he spun a quarter turn bringing the point to the same spot at his opponents throat.

That Arakad managed to neatly stop his strike the instant he perceived the identity of his target was a tribute to his tense reflexes. That he had been caught flatfooted in the first place was, to him, an in-excusable failure. The first rule in his line of work, he would tell you, was to never, ever let your guard down. It would get you killed. At the very least it could get you caught standing in some frail's bedroom, looking like a fool.

The woman holding the tesson to his neck, as Arakad abruptly realized, was Rryn Anyai, the shadow of the crane of the Britannian Guard, her beautiful dark hair falling over her smooth features. Almost a contrast to the sharp fabric covered war fans slicing into his skin. She hadn't been here when he had first arrived, was she? Obviously she was here now, and apparently not in the mood for a stray visitor. He peered over the length of the fans, down her extended left arm, and into her wide dark eyes. It was clear they recognized each other, but for a time neither would move.

They stood frozen there - his blade at her throat, her fan at his neck, in that enduring moment each knew the other was capable and even willing to bring violence, but didn't. The dangerious fascination of that instant's unrealized potential held them fast: two stubborn egos suspended in confrontation.

In the end, it was the compromised nature of his position which forced Arakad to break the face-off. He was an un-announced guest in this home. She had found him in the Lady of the House's bedroom, after all. Once the initial shock of the encounter was over, he began to feel a rising embarassment.

Slowly, Arakad retraced the movements of his wakizashi and placed it firmly back into its sheath, his other palm open showing no signs of intent. "there's no need to get violent here, lass" he said evenly.

Rryn's wrist snaped the fans forward a half inch closer to its destination "Say's you, it could be fun if you ask me."

A moment of doubt flickered in Arakad's mind. Rryn could be a hard case to figure, when she wanted to be, and he didn't think she would slice a fellow guard member down even in house that held the training dojo. Even though they weren't that close. Still, what did he know about her state of mind? Normally he could trust his instincts about people, but lately he didn't seem to trust anything.

"Lady, my body is but a host. You use that thing, I'll more than likly come right back to haunt your pretty lil ass."

Since Rryn was near the same rank as he in the Guard, and known to be the partner of the commander of the guard, Arakad assumed she would realize he was telling the truth. Even if she didn't seem to understand it for the time.

The unexpected and indiffrent reaction to her holding of the weapon to his throat seemed to break through that edge of intensity that gripped Rryn. She relaxed, at least visibly to a point, folded the fans and placed them back into her belt. Arakad could tell somthing had her a bit keyed up, somthing besides his unexpected presence in this place.

"Just tell me what you are doing here, Arakad, and it better be good"

Before Arakad could say anything, there came a soft droping sound and a clink of glass against glass. They both looked down. Forgotten in his left hand was the small sack he had brought with him, and in it the source of the noise. He held the sack up so that she could make out some of the contents.

"Gifts, champagne and a whispering rose. he said. A good an answer as any.

A few minutes later, the lamps turned on and the tension further dissipated, Rryn contemplated the small pouch tightly wraped around its contents. Which Arakad had set down in the middle of the hearth room

"A rose and some drinks? You're saying you came into Ellysia's house to drop this pouch of drinks and a rose off?",

"Yeah, that's `bout it." Arakad replied a bit uneasily.

"And this pouch required such covert measures because..."

Arakad intently picked at a loose thread from his kamishimo "It's a gift. You know, for Ellysia. To help her through the ... eh.. the times she's having..."

"Uh-huh

"It's just an offering. Of course, I never expected to get my head nearly sliced off deliverin` it."

"Next time knock?" Rryn replied pulling at her kimono with one hand and the other resting comfortably against her tessen. she took a hard long look at Arakad letting out a soft laugh.

Arakad's hair bristled hearing the soft chuckle. "What's so blasted funny?

Come on. You, Arakad, Bring Ellysia, a rose and champagne as a simple present? That's a loaded gesture there man!"

Well it isn't any o`ye concern Arakad snaped, the scottish accent from his dealings with Poet starting to show through his uncomfortableness.

Became my concern when I come upstairs and find you waltzing around in the dark. You're lucky I didn't cut your throat open. The concern and strain in Rryn's voice convincing Arakad that she had more troubling issues crossing her mind than she would let on.

As though an explosion of senses rang out, Arakad came to his feet and to the rooms entrance, clearly they weren't the only ones about. For coming from both stairwells swarmed several figures hooded and clad in the dark loose fitting garb of the ronin brandishing an assortment of weapons - they hurtled siglently through the air towards their prey.

The first assailant's sword traced a deadly arc over his head as he droped down on Arakad from the upper stair well. The dark paladin sidestepped the strike, gripping the killer's shirtfront, and propelled him hard across the hard wood floor and through the open sliding door. In a brief second the paladin has both his katana and wakizashi in hand forming a ready daisho, evading the next two sword thrusts coming at him. Useing their momentum that carried them forward he let them close in, just close enough to disembow them both with precise cuts.

Out of the corner of his eye, Arakad was surprised to see Rryn deflect an assassin's sword with one hand. and the other chopping down the assassin with the tessen, rolling the assassin into the strike of a second attack in one swift move. Arakad caught her attntion and she gave a slight smile. It would be a night full of surprises.

The assassins kept coming, swarming into the main floor, droping noiselessly out of the night through the open sliding doors. In fluid motions, Rryn pulled out her staff of the dryad and leapt backwards, narrowly eluding a sword cut herself. Landing on one of the chairs, balanced on foot the seat cushion and one behind her, tiped the chair backwards bringing the front end up to deflect the attacker's blow. The maneuver left her hands free to strike up with the lower end of the staff to the man's chin at the same time a bolt of lightning shooting forth from the staff tossing the man back down the stairwell he came from.

Convinced Rryn could now hold her own for the moment, Arakad threw himself into the thick of the assassins. "Well someone has apparently been pissing off the Ronin haven't they?!"

They were the best killers of the fedual lands - silent, fast, and invariably deadly. Their training, refined for hundreds of years, and had been perfected. But nothing could prepare them for a target like this one.

The first swordsman Arakad reached scored what would have been a critical strike to the man's side. To the assassin's amazement; his target kept coming. Arakad could, and would, sacrifice his body to overcome an opponent, after all it was all just meat and bone to him. That gave him an edge. Unprepared for the abandon of his attack, the assassins fell between the two Guards until sheer numbers inevitable bagan to turn the tide.

Caught up in the attack Arakad was barely able to parry a no-dachi sword blow coming down to his head. Metal shrieked and sparked against metal as his daisho caught the large curved blade mere inches away. The larger assassin holding the sword bore down heavily on Arakad, pushing the man's strength to the limits.

The killer muscled in close, its dark red pupils glareing into the eyes of its opponent. As their numbers thinned, the assassins were losing their carefully cultivated air of detached professionalism. Their Honor was now on the line. And this could quickly go personal. You are going to die gai`jin" the large man whispered in the feudal language.

"My death has already been foretold." Arakad hissed back in the same language

"Today I prove it wrong The killer countered, reaching with his free hand he pulled a thin bladed dagger driving its point into Arakad's thigh. The howl of pain that erupted from the dark paladin was startling, non-human that it shook even the seasoned killer, if but for a brief moment. But a moment to long, before he could recover the assassin heard the brief sound of a object flying through the air, then the hard impact of a blade at the base of the neck. Spinning away from his callapsed target on the ground.

The shuriken had come from Rryn. Though he was injured Arakad was still annoyed that she had taken out his kill. The clash of assassins, murderous though it might be, was just what he needed. A good fight focused him. And at this moment he craved that battle focus.

Arakad was tempted to change his mind about the holistic benefits of combat as a volley of arrows sliced down at them from outside, coming through pained glass windows and thin wooden walls. One clipped his arm. Another buried itself in his shoulder. For the second time that night he howled a rage of pain.

Rryn reacted to this new attack quickly. Pushing off from the side of the table with one foot, she threw herself out into the room and slid on her back across the section of bare wood floor. As she cleared the balcony and windows, she tossed shuriken after shuriken to the archers direction.

Arakad lunged out towards her as Rryn rolled behind a wall to reload her belt. He bounced from wall to wall and from around bookshelves on the far side of the room till he leaped through the broken doors that held the windows and onto the small balcony. He was pissed now, and wanted a target.

Rryn rolled sideways and came up on one knee in full view of the open balcony, staff in hand. Though this time, she had no target; nothing moved but Arakad making his way back through the ripped doors.

The quiet was broken suddenly by the blowing of a soft wind that wiped around the open pouch on the ground. The rose laying in a puddle of champagne a stray leaf falling from the bloom. Arakad knelt down pulling gently on the draw-strings as he closed the pouch back.

After a quick sweep of the estate to be sure they were alone, Rryn brought bandages from the bathroom and began to bind Arakad's arm, leg and torso.

"You'll be alright?" she asked.

"I'm use to this kinda thing," He nodded at her arm. Her kimono ripped in several places. I could ask the same about you"

She sat back and pulled at the sleeve. There wasn't a mark on her, no blood, not even a breach of skin. Rryn tugged the sleeve back down and let her arm fall to her side.

"The Gods might have made me, but I have my teaching to keep me from being harmed to long

"Lots of training..?"

"Hai" she half sighed and looked around the damaged floor. "I was raised on the feudal lands, till I found my way back to this land and to my family.

"Well, seems like we got somthin` in common" Arakad said with a glance down to the movement of the snake like movements the sigil markings made around his bare skin "Suppose we all got our sob story to tell". He jerked his thumb over his shoulder "What about the welcoming crew there? You behind on your vendors rent or somthing?

"I wish. Rryn stepped to the nearest of the assassins to check his dark clothing.

"They are ronin you know, looks to be the same that invaded the Bushido dojo." Arakad interrupted the silence as he watched her fumble with the clothing to no avail.

Arakad winced at the pain in his side. Now, as the adrenaline rush and mana drain of the fight subsided, his uneasy mood was returning. It was a mood he was starting to get sick of. The rose, the trip to the estate, it was all suppose to be a nice... romantic gesture. As if by reaching out, making an honest effort to be kind for once, he would find some release from the anxiety in his mind, and in his heart. Instead, what did he find? Another fight... more pain... and death. Like there was no possible action he could take, nowhere on earth he could run to, to escape the violence that seemed to fill this life.

Coming to calm now his senses started to return to normal. A small sparrow quietly made its way through the broken window perching delicatly within a circle of broken glass.

Realization coming to him, that he was the cause of this trouble his gaze rose to meet Rryns Rryn .. I...

The sparrow suddenly fluttered into the air between them, breaking the intensity of the moment. They both realized to late that something was wrong. And Arakad would never finish that sentence.

The bird droped to the floor, pierced by the silvery black metal point of a shuriken. A half-dozen more of the throwing stars cut through the air around them. One pierced itself into the base of Rryn's staff, Arakad threw himself infront of her, a momentary spot of insanity or perhaps a lost act of chivalry. He took stars to the chest and thighs, but was unable to stop a third. The shuriken ripped through her Kimono but she was agile enough to evade any true physical harm.

Crouched on the ledge outside the empty broken window, the assassin who had thrown the shuriken surveyed his results.

"Gotcha," The slim, dark figure whispered in the same ancient feudal language.
Seeing the final assassin standing three Arakad sprang to a run to reach his ultimate target, more stars whirled from behind him, Rryn, but they merely tore away chunks of the window and door casing. The Slim black form of the shuriken assassin cart wheeled smoothly out onto the balcony rail.

The dark paladins senses were working perfectly now, and Arakad was sure he heard the assassin stiffle a laugh in the face of the two guards. He bared his teeth and leaped across the final distance onto the balcony.

"Arakad wait! You can't go alone!
Arakad looked out into the open air. He could just make out the figure retreating across the treetops.
"Send a pigen to Takeda and Shingen for backup" he grunted. And then he was gone, out into the night, on the hunt.

Nearly and hour later, Arakad was pressed up against the cold marble wall of the next door building. He could recognize the glisten of the red lights from the paper lantern within the main room, and the familiar shadows of his fellow Guard members cleaning up the mess.

The leader of the assassins had managed to evade him like he was a rank amateur. Given his injuries and amount of stamina and mana drain, it shouldn't have come as any surprise. The rest of the cadre had put into a pile as servants drug the bodies onto the lawn by the time Arakads rage burned itself out somewhere on the lower star side of the continent. Afraid of what he might find if he went back, he lingered on a rooftop there in a public house for a few minutes. At least it doesn't rain on Malas.

Now Arakad watched silently from below the broken balcony, as Rryn dug arrows and shurikens out of furniture. She was speaking softly but to a man who's shadow was hidden from him. And Takeda and Shingen were in the lower levels repairing the damage done to the dojo.

His relief that none of them were harmed quckly dissolved into shame and regret. All the strength drained out of his battered limbs. His long violent life, he could not remember being so completely exhausted.

The guard will eventually leave the estate after clearing the mess. And Arakad looked on helplessly as another sparrow flew past his gaze. Followed by the sparrow a flock of other birds scattered towards the mountain side, rising up in a cloud of fluttering wings.

The silence that followed was broken only by the slow sound of Arakads ragged breathing, force of habit. He leaned his head back, and for a long time gazed numbly into the empty darkness overhead. Slowly at first, but then with increasing consistency, the wind started to blow.

He pushed away from the wall and steadied himself on his feat. As the wind whiped around his kamishimo he took one last look at the estate. Then, hunched over against the weather, Arakad turned around and silently walked back towards the crystal glenns retracing his path.