[I don't have anything planned with the horde of Meiltha. Merrin/Kendath are just headed towards a desert village. I have an opening idea, hopefully a posting spree will take us to it]

"I doubt they'd simply let us leave," Kendath snapped back, scanning the camp for sentries. None were in sight, though he harbored no optimistic thoughts at the lack of guards. No doubt they patrolled the perimeter. He knew that if he were a Renegade commander under these circumstances, he would at least be paranoid of treachery or espionage - which meant that leaving the camp unauthorized was highly frowned upon.

But then again, rules only applied to those who lacked knowledge of how to break them.

"This way," he breathed, ducking into the shadows behind the tent. He skirted the dying embers of one campfire, then eyed a copse of withered trees that looked temptingly inconspicuous - no doubt hiding a sentry or two. He decided to avoid the copse, instead creeping along the shadows of another command tent. Gyre, he sent out.

I'm here.

Meet me at the northeast side of camp.

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Merrin's silver-gray cloak, stained somewhat by the ravages of battle, faded into the dawn shadows as she followed, equally silent. Yes, she thought with a touch of resentment, she had thought they could just leave. They were Renegades, weren't they? In a Renegade camp?

But perhaps it didn't work like that.

It nagged at her to slink away like this, though. Of course they could not reveal where they were really from, but...

Merrin abandoned this train of thought, seeing it going speedily nowhere. A finger of pale sunlight ventured past the horizon and she squinted against it, hurrying to keep up with him.

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More feeling than seeing the faint sliver of sunlight, Kendath quickened his pace, drawing out his dagger as he did so. Past experiences had told him that clean escapes were nearly impossible. Bloodshed was inevitable. He'd kill tonight, and though his unfamiliar conscience still nagged at him, pragmatism was by far his forte.

Tonight, the Renegade was the enemy.

And a good thing he'd steeled his mind on that thought, because as chance would have it he ran smack into a Renegade patrol the next time he rounded a corner. They were in a shadowy area between two tents, and the two sentries' backs were facing him. A credit to the first man's observation skills, he detected the faint nuance behind him and began turning, his mouth halfway opening to demand an explanation -

The pommel of Kendath's dagger slammed into his temple, dropping him cold. Alarm and rage twisting the second sentry's features, he reached for his sword. Knowing that the moment the guard cried out it was over, Kendath exploded into action. A second dagger appeared in his hand the same time he launched the first. His first throw was a feint to get his enemy ducking down low at the same time he went in for the critical strike. The man went down choking in his own blood.

Kendath sheathed both daggers. It occurred to him with no modicum of dread that the Renegades - his allies in the present tense - would now be after his execution. But no, it'd been necessary. There was no lightning quick blow he knew that simply knocked an enemy unconscious. Dwelling in past actions would only deter him. Half turning, he beckoned for Merrin to come along.

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For a short moment Merrin was speechless, wide eyes riveted on the limp bodies of the sentries, one never to rise again. No amount of coin could remedy this, and she did not intend to try. "Nicely done," she remarked acidly in an undertone, pausing only briefly to cast an unhappy glance at the still shadows on the ground behind them. "Now we've enemies in both the Renegades and the Meiltha."

Irritated exasperation was not a tone Merrin used often, but in order to hide her shock or unpleasant surprise it sometimes made an unexpected appearance. She quickened her footsteps.

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A glib retort rose readily to Kendath's tongue, but he suppressed it under the necessity of single-minded purpose. They were almost out of camp and could not afford to lose it now. They cleared the outermost perimeter, and with a relieved slump of his shoulders he let his breath out. He marked a path of jagged boulders a little ways off where they would receive some cover from the mounting dawn.

Presently Gyre and Wyvern alighted, and they were off. As they soared upwards into the brightening skies, Kendath conveyed their destination to the jade dragon - an alabaster city on the mouth of the River Amren, due northeast of their current location.

They flew on the entire day, stopping only to spare a brief midday meal before shooting off again. By dusk, they were more than halfway to their destination. The bleak desolation had turned to reluctant semi-arid shrub. Gyre sighted the flickering lights of a humble village ahead, on the banks of a trickling of water that passed for a stream.

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Wyvern dropped abruptly into a dive, slightly slow on the uptake. His expression was inscrutable but Merrin had a decidedly unimpressed mien. At first glance this might have seemed a reaction to the bleak landscape, but as she swung down, cloak fluttering behind her, she muttered - "it's nonsense, couldn't be further from the truth," to her dragon, who seemed mildly amused. He made no reply, knowing her stubbornness, but Merrin could tell his opinion was not changed and as she turned to watch Kendath descend as well, she scowled briefly.

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They descended on the outskirts of the farmland surrounding the village as to spare the villagers heart attacks at the sight of two dragons abruptly landing. After dropping him off, Gyre decided she hadn't had a decent meal in days and flapped away to salvage some live prey.

It was utterly dark by the time Kendath and Merrin reached the outermost thatched cottages. Smoke from cooking fires curled serenely into the dusky air. The dirt roads were empty save for the occassional stray cat or barking dog. Eager stretch out his cramped muscles, Kendath pointed out the first inn they encountered - a neat one-story building labeled The Traveler's Door. A cozy fire was already blazing in the hearth when they entered. The laughter that heralded their entrance was lighthearted and blithe - the comfortable banter of familiar villagers sharing stories and gossip after a long day's work.

[cue Aerandir. I've got a plan to get them all together]

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Merrin was uncharacteristically silent. In the absence of words, thoughts abounded...almost uniformly relating to her singularly enlightening discussion with Wyvern earlier.

Merrin, every second thought you think is of him. More than that, even. You were never as terrified when you were to be a Meiltha sacrifice as you were when he fell saving you. She thought back, every word her dragon said imprinted in her mind. He'd never said it, but the meaning was clear. You're besotted.

Again Merrin scowled just as they neared the light of the merry inn. What she'd felt the night of the ball - had that been love? Or the gut-wrenching anxiety when he had been wounded?

How could you have let this happen! she berated herself inwardly. On the most important quest practically ever, and you go head over heels for the one person who would never love you back!

This thought would not be relegated to the back of her head, and continued to float tantalizingly about as they entered the crowded, noisy common room if the inn. Normally Merrin would have felt instantly at home but now the merriment only served to deepen her disgust at herself .

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The innkeeper took one look at Kendath's bloodstained attire and made a point not to comment. "The war," she muttered as she tucked his payment into her immaculate apron. "Always the war. "Good men die, innocents are slain. Always the war." She took their order, then gestured them towards a table near the back where they could converse in relative privacy.

The first few moments, occupied with nothing else than sitting and waiting for their drink, passed by rather awkwardly - with Kendath pointedly looking everywhere in the room but at Merrin. And then their food arrived, and they spent the majority of their meal in silence. Towards the end, stirring his potatoes around with his fork with remarkable interest, he glanced up at her. "Our next move?"

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Kendath's customary lack of wordy discussion spoke not of nerves to Merrin, but of disinterest. She did not observe his gaze turning steadfastly anywhere but in her direction, for her own eyes were determinedly (and if one looked closely, miserably) fixed on her stew and she tasted very little of it. So it was that his question hung in the air for a moment before it quite registered.

"I had thought you were entirely assured of that." The words were out, tinged with startling bitterness, before she could recall them. Oh, that doesn't make you seem an utter ignorant idiot at all. Dimwit. She hastened to rectify it. "Er - what I mean is - I hadn't had much of an idea," she confessed, low-voiced. A pause. At length Merrin ventured again to speak. "I thought of making for one of the larger cities, whatever they are here, or now. Plenty to observe there."

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Kendath raised an eyebrow, wondering if it was merely fatigue from the road or if something had truly gotten to her. Now that he reflected back, he recalled that Merrin had seemed uncharacteristically brooding ever since they'd dismounted outside the village. "There is a port city north of here, perhaps half a day away. It should have our answers."

He opened his mouth, then shut it again. He'd intended to ask for her thoughts on the matter but thought better of it, as he found her mien strangely forbidding.

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"Good." Merrin found herself at a complete loss for anything else to say, a feeling rather alien to her, and also found herself suddenly in possession of a violent headache. With an extreme effort she forced her gaze upwards. It made it past Kendath's plate - up his drab armour - but faltered just around the region of the clasp of his cloak, where it steadfastly refused to advance any further. Merrin, defeated, wearily kept it there. "We'll depart in the morning, then."

A thought struck her and to her surprise, her eyes relented and rushed upwards suddenly to meet his. "And no assassinating the sentries this time?"

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Ever the tactful one, Kendath transformed all Merrin's meticulous efforts to moot in the space of two milliseconds when he averted his gaze. And a funny thing, too. He wasn't even conscious of averting his gaze.

Discarding his discipline and the fact that he normally avoided drink for the trait stated above, he downed his ale in one swig. The fiery liquid burned down his throat, which for reasons unknown only served to further incense him. He slammed the mug down and rose from his seat. "No guarantees," he said with a shrug, in response to Merrin's earlier inquiry.

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Merrin's gaze erased its earlier progress completely and retreated to her plate, where she listlessly prodded the chunks of meat and vegetable about, chin resting on one hand. She made no reply. What was there to say? Still she could not fathom him. Why did there seem two Kendaths, one the apathetic cold-blooded assassin and one other she had no words for?

The evening of the ball - that had been the other Kendath, the one that had inexplicably disappeared upon a timid venture by Merrin. Or even when he'd woken after the battle, he had seemed different from the Kendath now.

Merrin's head throbbed.

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(AHHHHHH LDM NOOOOOOO Aerandir means my FUTURE Meiltha Horde that is outside Renagade city where Evlyn is being held, Jemx is outside with the Meiltha horde having a conversation with a charrie controled by you. Garthags dragon threteing renagades inside the city. Aerandir is creating a FUTURE charecter. (i think)
PAST (the bit Kendreth, Garthag, Merrin and Semri are in) The Meiltha horde is going to be abandoned by Semri, so ignore them.)

[ Aerandir, the FUTURE Meiltha Horde plans to attack the Renagade city, however Jemx and Demon might sneak off and rescue Evlyn by themselves if LDM's hooded charrie proves worth it. In the long term the Meiltha will attack the Renagade city, have a truce to save the dragons, then go back to warfare.]

FUTURE
Jemx flew a few meters foreward to the hooded figure. Reveal you'reself and tell me how i can rescue Evlyn....if you want to live... He hissed
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PAST
Semri finished with the Meiltha internal battle and flew over to Garthag in time to hear his last comment. "Our...freinds...have allied themselves with the Renagades Lord Garthag, they seem were wounded." Semri had decided that it was pointless pretending to be Meiltha any longer, not in front of these people and especially if it ment she would be ordered around.

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Made by Lembas

"Death threats now? Hah." The dragon chortled a moment, a rather sinister sound, and in that instant his rider threw back the hood of his cloak. He was nobody remarkable to the two Meiltha, but had Merrin been there she would have cried out in fury.

Je'id surveyed the two Meiltha. "You will not be rescuing her. I will....for a price." He eyed them slyly. "You are not the only ones entirely disgusted at the tyranny of the gods."

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Merrin continued to aimlessly shift about the contents of her plate until they were long past being appetizing. Just as she felt about to sleep where she sat, a thump alerted her of someone sitting down. Expecting Kendath, she glanced up -

But it wasn't he. A grizzled man, nondescript in a cloak of indeterminate color, surveyed her with an air of mild curiousity. "Lover's quarrel?" he queried, and Merrin forgot her plate of food.

"No!" she said indignantly, rather louder than she meant, and evoked a grin.

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