The rain had been falling now for nearly a half-hour, muted grey tones in the sky and angry black clouds wafted about in a thick overcast. A storm front had come through the day previously, and now a full-on downpour had begun, though when Daedra and her warlord in tow had set out in the morning, it had been a light sprinkle by comparison. Eliphas, drenched in his armor, seemed largely unaffected, trudging along ahead of the girl even though she had been the one to plot their next destination and in reality should be leading the duo.

The pair of them were both soaked, and Daedra was shivering in her sparse coverings, inwardly cursing the weather, and irritated that the hulking human was handling the hardship with much less discomfort than she apparently was. As she tried to think warmer, more full-bellied thoughts, rain pinked and lightly clanged off Eliphas’ war plate without pause, creating almost an inconsistent chorus of barely strung notes as they went along. Eliphas’ body was shining with the slick cover of water upon his metal skin, the individual decorations of gold and bits of bronze and silver glistened now in a way they had not previously before.

The prince’s boots began making sucking noises as they met softer ground suddenly, the road is relatively hardened by use, but some spaces still less so, mostly sunken portions of the path where water collected.

Eliphas paused when this happened, coming to a halt. Silently he smiled and closed his eyes, his head tilting back as he basked in the cool drops impacting upon his face and skin, the rain keeping him pleasantly cooled by along with the early hours’ air. Moving in his heavy battle-plate normally caused him to heat up immensely, but the crisp, early morning downpour had kept his internal temperature quite comfortable indeed. A rumble of thunder echoed all around and while there was no accompanying flash of lightning just yet, the center of the storm could not be far away.

Daedra arrived next to him, arms across her chest and her torso slightly arched over, trying to retain any amount of her body heat as she glared up to him, rain covering her normally healthy-looking skin.

The prince heard her approach and opened his eyes to address her when she neared.

“Are you not from a cold place, Daedra?” Eliphas said with a smirk down to her, more than just a little content with the situation.

The girl frowned and tried to stop shivering as she replied, clearly agitated by his snarky teasing.

“N-no. I’m from somewhere hot. It usually doesn’t rain much here, which is why I l-like it.”

“Liked,” would have currently been a more accurate term.

Eliphas reached up with his right hand and glanced to the clasp affixing his cape to his armored shoulder, pulling it from the loop and making to remove it completely as he went.

Daedra cut in though as he had finished undoing one of the sides.

“I don’t n-need your stupid cape, or your pity, human,” she said with her eyes narrowed and teeth clenched, though whether from the cold or her outward frustration, it was unclear.

“And yet,” Eliphas said taking off his red garment and placing it around Daedra, who, despite what she had said a moment before, tried not to look eager to accept it, “you will receive it.”

 The prince tugged the sides together and took Daedra’s hands without thinking, her face’s muscles going soft for a moment in surprise, though she did not rebel as she assumed her body usually would at the act of being touched without consent. He placed her fingers around the material and pulled them together tight, holding the cape in place and completely covering her from neck to toe in a red shroud. She could just barely sense the scent of her human companion on the fabric, and it gave her a momentary, lush feeling in her chest at being reminded of what he smelled like. It was, also, extremely warm, a fact she became very much thankful for given the weather.

The two exchanged a quick glance, Daedra, a bit anxious, and Eliphas calm and at ease.

He turned in the next moment and continued to walk, as if nothing of import had transpired at all, though his act of kindness had a profound effect on his captor, who blushed as soon as he made to walk away.

“Perhaps we should wait a while until the weather clears,” the prince said over his shoulder, but not looking over at Daedra, “if you would permit it, of course,” he finished with a tiny smile and now looking to his female traveling partner for confirmation.

Daedra frowned over to him and walked on, shouldering into him intentionally as she went passed.

“No, we keep going, the quicker I get home, the quicker I can make you into stew.”

“You always refer to me as food,” Eliphas said as he moved to join her pace, “I do serve other functions as well, you are aware. I do have other talents.”

“Yeah, well, without Graggas to pay me for your skills and talents,” she said with mockery, “I don’t have another use for you.”

“Why is it you need to resort to thievery and other nonsense, anyhow? You clearly have talents for magical arts, you’re also not terrible with those daggers, and you seem at least somewhat intelligent.”

Daedra glanced over to the warlord as he continued on, though she was suddenly nervous at the topic of this conversation, as she was assuming where it was once again heading.

“I asked you before and you wouldn’t say, what is it that keeps you from rampaging throughout these lands as you did my own? Taking what you require and making yourself rich all at the same time?”

Daedra scoffed and shook her head, feeling a rock poke the sole of one of her feet as she squished along through more mud.

“I have to travel far for resources because it’s like I told you, it’s not safe around here these days.”

Eliphas raised an eyebrow at this, despite having been ambushed by a trio of highwaymen, this place he found himself stolen away too with his captor seemed relatively peaceful. He considered for a moment that he was even beginning to like it.

“Bandits don’t seem to faze you much, so what are you actually referring to?”

The horned girl shook her head and rolled her eyes, he was persistent, this human warlord Eliphas.

“I’m not a fugitive, alright.” She began with, before correcting, “Well, I am, but that’s not why it’s dangerous out here. There are… I mean…” She paused, trying to pick her words carefully.

“It’s like the ocean out here, there are lots of monsters and huge creatures that dwell beneath the waves but there’s always one larger or more terrifying.”

“Ah, I see,” Eliphas replied, taking his queue to speak, “So you’re akin to a minnow or a shrimp, as I am a shark or perhaps a proud zypast.” The man said balling a fist and raising it to his chest.

Daedra, glancing up over to her prisoner, blinked and said with curiosity over to him, momentarily forgetting the downpour.

“A…Zypast?”

Eliphas looked over to Daedra and saw the confusion on her face that he had picked up on in her voice, next taking the opportunity to explain.

“Ah yes, right. A zypast is a sea serpent, long-snouted, as long as some trees and as round as the same. Elusive, but cunning predators. Often when hunting alone as they typically do, they kill their prey in a single, lightning-fast strike. They’re native to the eastern waters of the Empire’s coastline.”

Daedra listened intently, the discomfort at being cold and wet now fading as they spoke of something new and interesting for once, instead of taking personal stabs at one another. She genuinely enjoyed learning about new things, places, peoples, and folktales, and Eliphas was clearly well educated based on how skilled he was at articulating his thoughts into words.

“House Favillo took the zypast as their family crest centuries ago. They’re a seafaring bunch, skilled at sailing and fishing. When they fought a rival band of pirates in their earliest years as a people, the turning point of their struggle was decided during the creatures’ mating season, when their waters were filled to the shore with the things. Legend says one of the serpents aided Pythas, first warrior lord of the Favillo, in killing the pirate king during the final battle.”

“What color are they?” Daedra said aloud, her thoughts coming out innocently and pure.

“What color are who?” Eliphas replied, he himself engrossed in the tale he was recounting and surprised to hear the girl speak so candidly.

“The zypast, the serpents, what color are they?”

Eliphas smiled as he walked, speaking more at ease and enjoying the conversation now.

“They are a deep turquoise,” he began, but noticed a tinge of unfamiliarity in Deadra’s eyes as he said the word, “They are the color of the sea just after sundown. A dark bluish-green. They have underbellies a shade like dirty chicken eggs, not quite a pure white.”

The horned inhuman licked her lips as she looked ahead, saying without a hint of humor,

“I wonder what they taste like…How sweet their blood must be…”

“Do you think of everything in terms of food, Daedra?” The man said with a sigh and flattened demeanor.

She frowned and looked as if though she were about to pout in that next moment.

“I’m just hungry, ok!” She blurted, but knowing full well that tasting the blood of different creatures was actually something her culture took more seriously than most. It had a completely different purpose to the Lyraxian race, to ingest the blood of one’s prey, or in some cases…

“Blood is sacred to us,” a voice came from the tree line.

Immediately Eliphas had his guard up, his eyes darting up and fixing on the area the call had come from.

“It’s everything to us.”

A figure appeared through the dense woods, walking casually forwards and into the open area where the road closely began. The source of the voice was female, and she brought in tow with her, a group of many others.

“Blood spilt… drank…. or shed.” The woman continued, slow malice in her tone. “It is, everything to us.”

Daedra, unfortunately, knew exactly who it was before her eyes confirmed her worries. The newcomer now standing in the open, bore some resemblance to Daedra, her hair was a different color, and her age was by comparisons a few years older, but the horns she sported were of a similar type to Eliphas’ captor, with a subtle uniqueness to them that set them apart as individuals.

“Good morning, my lord. So nice to see you again, finally.” The woman said to Daedra, dripping with mockery as it came from her lips.

The group behind the vocal female was similar to those who had attacked the pair on the road to the Moss Grove, a misfit band of bandits, perhaps nine or ten, with sparse coverings for protection and mismatched weapons and appearances. The group stood just behind her, weapons in their hands and looking as if ready for a fight that was rapidly approaching.

There was, however, a member of the group who stood out from the rest, even from the woman who was addressing them.

A male Lyraxian, tall and slender, bedecked in what looked like layered forms of the strange leather armor Daedra’s own attire was fashioned, stood silent and neutral directly behind her, a helmet with a red topknot matted by the rainfall nestled in the crook of his arm. The headgear included odd gaps down the front, reminiscent of face or eye slits, but Eliphas soon concluded this was a design feature to allow the warrior to wear his protection despite having horns, though it left gaps in the protection that were larger than he would have thought acceptable.

Eliphas’ captor glared and frowned over to the group’s leader as she spoke over to them, only about two dozen meters from where they now stood in the road. The rain had dulled Daedra’s senses, and the exchange had nicely distracted the two until they had nearly run straight into this confrontation. She cursed that brief conversation of weakness with her human that brought her a small semblance of happiness, despite enjoying it.

“Eldegar, I would say it’s nice to see you too, but I always hated you.”

The opposite female, apparently Eldegar, laughed boisterously and tilted her head to one side, her hands coming to her chest, similarly dressed to the male Lyraxian in layered stripes of the superior leather, though without a helm to complete the outfit. The color and indeed the construction was more uniform and complete, as opposed to Daedra’s attire. The hostile pairs’ dressings were a muted, dark green which closely matched the shade of the accompanying trees, and covered most of their bodies, formed into chest protection, vambraces, and greaves. Garbed in black, and nearly half-naked, in contrast, Daedra seemed like some kind of renegade.

“Yes, yes, that’s why I’m so, absolutely delighted, I was given the task of finding you and bringing you back!”

The prince glanced at Daedra at this revelation, seeing as he did her nostrils flare and one corner of her mouth curl in a snarl that revealed her fanged canines.

Her glowing eyes were vibrant in the gloomy overcast, and as the man had seen across the way, the opposite inhuman figures had glowing eyes as well, though the female and what looked like her bodyguard had much more natural eye shades of green and blue respectively.

In this, it would seem, Daedra was again, unique.

“You can try, slave!” Came the proclamation from Eliphas’ side, punctuated by Daedra releasing her hold on the crimson cape she was loaned and whipping a pair of black daggers from her back in a swift motion.

It was only at this moment the prince himself was seemingly acknowledged, as if only now being noticed for the first time.

“Your friend there should just be about with his travels now, we wouldn’t want an innocent bystander to get hurt along with you, would we now?”

“Don’t you dar-“Daedra began in a whisper without looking over to Eliphas.

“Shut up. They wouldn’t let me leave even if I wanted to.” He replied sharply.

 There was a pause next within the human warlord’s mind, as a terrible thought came to the prince’s realization, considering all his current tactical options and already planning on who he would kill first.

“The other two, the ones like you,” he said in hushed reply, “can they change size like you?”

Daedra smiled in a dark, somewhat sadistic grin, her eyes lighting up even greater if such a thing were even possible, as if roused by the prospect of violence.

“No.”

Suddenly, however, before they could exchange another word, Eldegar reached for her hip and produced a small, red object, something akin to a coin.

“Let’s get on with it then!” she shouted with a huge, maniacal smile, her dark, long hair thrashing as she hurled whatever it was at Daedra underhanded, “I want to go home already and collect my reward!”

Whatever it was that the newcomer threw, it traveled at a much greater speed than it should have simply from being thrown. Eliphas could swear he heard it make an audible zip through the air as it contacted with his traveling companion’s chest, sending her back a few feet, sprawled into the mud as it struck her with a thud that sent her gasping and shrieking in pain as she landed. The girl lost hold of her daggers and clutched at the area above her heart, writing in the muck as she cried out in agony.

In the same moment, the group of mercenaries shouted their fighting chorus and as one, sprung forwards to begin their attack.

“Shit.” Eliphas muttered as he watched the woman thrash on the wet ground, turning to face the oncoming melee.

The first man was only half a dozen steps from him when Eliphas reached under the heads of his stolen axes, pulling them up and free from their rings. In a smooth, skillful motion, he rolled the heads around his fingers and swung the weapons up and into his hands, rotating the handles around into his palms.

Quickly, he hurled one of the weapons square into the chest of the closest assailant and began to rush forwards himself, energy surging into his muscles and his heart booming in a flood of battle rush.

Blood splattered out and the nomad he had struck fell backward into the grime and slushed dirt, dead outright, the sharpened axe head embedded in his heart, slicing straight through his light cloth and animal pelt attire with ease.

Eliphas was well trained, experienced, and better protected to be sure, but he was also outnumbered and slower, and swore aloud at Daedra for putting him to this situation as he killed another man he came to grips with an uppercut swing of his weapon.

By the time the second man’s jaw and face had been cleaved in two by Eliphas’ remaining axe, the group was on top of him. The prince of Emoria punched and cut in regimented strokes, sending blood spraying and screams sounding around his armored form as bones crunched and men died with each of his calculated, albeit desperately hastened strikes.

The prince felt rebounds of metal on metal as weapons impacted his black plate every passing moment, each strike turned away by the well-crafted suit of sacred metal and shielding the precious meat held within. It had served his family for nearly six generations, and he doubted now, of all times, he would see it defeated by some thuggish, forest tree-folk.

Fate, it would seem this past week, was having quite the humorous time of proving him wrong.

In that same instant, a great, bearded wild man shouted an unknowable phrase into Eliphas’ direction, likely a curse upon the prince’s mother or some other such appropriate insult, flecks of spittle flying from his opened mouth as he swung a type of large cleaver down overhanded, finding a blind spot in his armored foes’ defenses. The heavy short sword bit in between Eliphas’ shoulder guard and cuirass, parting the flesh and muscle along his side as it traveled down to his ribcage, a red hot burning sensation making the man growl in anger and sudden pain as he received the shallow cut to his body. The warlord raised his thick arm vambrace and blocked a subsequent attack that made his entire wrist and hand tingle with needle-like shots of pressure upon impact, his attacker earning himself a steel gauntlet to the eye in return that sent him screaming to the mud.

He could feel warm blood seeping from the new injury, coating his side in a wash of precious coppery liquid. It wasn’t too bad, from what he could tell without looking at it, anyways, but he would undoubtedly gain a new scar from the attack as a result.

The prince risked a glance at the other Lyraxians as they simply watched, Eldegar with apparent amusement and laughter, and her fellow motionless, in silent regard. He found it strange how their own demeanors were mirrored by Eliphas and Daedra, one easy-going and somewhat insane, the other, stoic and hardened by duty. An odd thing to take note of during the flurry of battle.

The Emorian paid for this momentary loss of focus as one of the blades swung by his attackers narrowly missed his unprotected face, forcing him to pull away and throwing him off balance and staggering to the ground onto his back, the remaining few mercenaries rushing in forwards for the kill to avenge their fallen comrades.

Eliphas grew angrier as he struggled to quickly rise, seeing one of the men raising a crude longsword overhead and preparing to make a strike that he knew he had few chances of blocking effectively without losing at least an arm. Rolling to the side would only put him in range of another assailant, and tumbling back wasn’t an option because of his sheer bulk.

This was it then. If the swing didn’t kill him, he had few options in recovering and surviving for much longer afterward.

This wasn’t right. This was not how things had been meant to be. He should have died outside of Vagresh Tellmoth, the final great siege of the ancient builders’ city-state, or on the killing fields outside of that unnamed mountain during his first campaign with his father, when their army’s entire flank had collapsed under the crushing assault of the beastmen of Chandra. A battle that brought their entire species to extinction upon its grizzly conclusion.

Such glories passed. Such immense measures of willpower, skill, and honor. Of endurance and martial prowess, and he was reduced to dying on a road in a skirmish? This would not earn him a place of pride or decency among his family. But then again, who was to know? Who was to care? Nothing would succeed of him or of his death other than blood and a body.

This was how it was going to end? In some unknown land, by some crazed fools’ wild, artless swing, his corpse left to rot in the mud as he spent his final moments angry at his own mistakes, his mind devoid of everything else but the frustration of not living up to his full potential?

All things considered, Eliphas thought, that was exactly how he always assumed it was going to go.

Blood sprayed over the prince’s face and torso though instead, however, a black dagger flashing by and smacking into the side of the man’s head, a mess of horrible fluids and pieces of pink, fleshy matter landing among other things upon his cheek.

Eliphas’ eyes shot over to Daedra, who was on one knee and struggling to rise, her skin looking pale, and one of her eyes shut tightly closed. She appeared as though she was in a great deal of pain, and as the prince surged to his feet to meet the last pair of attackers, he didn’t have time to acknowledge that she had easily just saved his life.

One of the remaining men who he was defending against was the one who’s face he’d ruined. His intention to keep fighting was admirable, but he only earned a subsequent blow that put him down for good. A slice of Eliphas’ axe sliced deep through his neck, sending a jet of crimson gushing out and mixing with the mud of the rainfall.

The last of the human wild men died as quickly as the rest, the prince’s weapon smacked into his gut, and as he cried and gurgled out, vomiting crimson, the prince rolled him forward, hacking down a final swing that severed his spine as Eliphas cut down deep into his back.

The mud was littered with dead men now, and though both Eliphas and Daedra we injured, they had survived the first part of the ambush.

The Emorian was panting and his lungs sucked in great gulps of oxygen to keep up with the demand of his body’s exertion. Eliphas straightened his shoulders and composed himself, wincing but standing up fully erect and keeping the other pair of Lyraxians in view as he took a moment to regain his focus. He slowly edged away and towards where his first axe had been thrown, retrieving it as he was vaguely aware Daedra had gotten unsteadily to her feet.

“Your skill is impressive,” said the male abhuman as he stepped forwards and came to within a few feet of Eliphas.

“But stand aside, we are charged with retrieving Daedra and returning her to her rightful place. I am sworn to aid Eldegar and see this task through to its end.”

Eliphas took in a deep breath as his chest heaved up. The human lord sized up this new foe, anticipating he would likely fall to him, and his female captor would be taken regardless of his decision. And though he did care, in a small amount anyways, for Daedra, he cared more that the war god would see him shrink from a worthy challenge and find him weak for doing so upon his arrival to the death realm.

If this man was anything like in strength and speed Daedra, things would be over soon, but Eliphas was a cocky bastard at heart, refusing to be cowed.

“Then it will result in your death, friend,” he said tall and defiant as the Lyraxian slid on his helmet.