The cloak was an excellent make. It was soft and seemed to go with Penril's movements, shifting with every slight gesture he made. It was of the color of earth when it was just about to bloom forth in the breath of spring - the kind of brown that was just pleasing to the eyes, all the while relaxing the senses while one looked at it. The hood was deep, and all in all when up it hung down Penril's back as he kept it up, his face well hidden in shadows, only his nose and lips visible from the outside.

Now there was business to be done here in Marlas, specifically here in the vast green expanse of the plains. Penril had walked here alone, and arrived after two days of lone journeying. He had recieved word that a Wurm had recently been spotted in the plains, and already it had eaten up five men at most. The danger was that the Wurm was unnaturally big and strong for its kind. According to Slayer Dersine it was over eighty feet long, the size of three good Ghayth logs put together. Its hide was tough, unnaturally so, able to resist your everyday weapons.

Magic was the only way to rid the plains of the apparently destructive presence of the Wurm. While it lurked the plains, trade and commerce was on the tipsy side. Can't have that.

Focus. Pinpoint focus.

Penril took a deep, slow breath, all the while seemingly little powders of light emanated from the grass, from the small rocks in the soil - from the soil itself. The little glimmers of light rose up, drawn irresistibly into his body as he inhaled, the glimmers mixing with the air. The familiar warmth grew inside Penril. He nursed it, feeding it with ample amounts of his own energy, willing it to grow. He would need lots of energy to kill the Wurm, and that depended too on the creature's own toughness. If worst came to worst, he would have to use the Wurm's life force against itself.

A breeze blew, rippling the green grass, seemingly making them dance. Penril started to walk, his hands limp on his side. More glimmers were drawn toward the tips of his fingers, which were just barely visible from his long sleeves.

He stopped dead when he sensed another presence in the plains. Not the Wurm.

He was forty, but in the name of the gods, he managed to escape the Fortress. Ha! Who said he was old? Those little sleeping sentries made him twitch, but then he NEEDED a new horse. He liked horses. His last one, poor thing, had died on the way to the King’s residence in Olencia. Something about bad stable atmosphere.

Must contemplate.

So here he was, on FOOT. Wasn’t that bad really. He got to relieve some of his infantry days, although sleeping on the ground was a lot more painful than normal, but then again mental denial did its wonders. The earth was dry. That was all there was to it.

He. Was. Not. Getting. Old.

So, were WAS he? His cartography and map reading skills had declined with his ascension. If you asked him where was north, he would, in typical soldier fashion, state that it is ‘the top part of the map’.

See? He’s declined.

Hadrian paused for a moment and took a swig from his water skin. He held the map in front of him, frowning and pausing to mark it every now and then. Let’s see… rocks? He looked around. Plenty. Dammit, did he bring the wrong map along? Hadrian adjusted it sideways. Nah, made so sense. He frowned. Landmarks. He needed a landmark.

Hm. He peered around the top of the map. Heeey, another human being! Or maybe it was just one of those mirages he heard of? He found one a while back. See, he thought he saw a horse and its rider. He thought it was real and tried to make the rider dismount ‘In the Name of the King’ so he could hijack claim the horse for ‘official purposes’.

He had the RIGHT.

‘Course, imagine his surprise and eternal shame that the rider was NOT real and rather instead was a hunk of rock. Go him. He still had a slight ache from launching himself straight at it like a half starved bandit.

He was, luckily, not wearing his armor. His sword still marked his status as High Commander though. He was wearing a gray cloak, a slate blue shirt underneath a leather vest, trousers and knee-high leather boots.

Anyway, back to the desert plains. Human being. Wearing… he squinted. A cloak? Hood up too. That much he could deduce from this far. But hell, humans were always better than scorching blocks of rock.

Was it just him or was the guy shiny?

Must contemplate. He launched into a run.

“Good morn.” He greeted, slowing down. Was it just him or did the plains get bigger?

…

Bigger. Definitely bigger.

“If I may ask…” He trailed off, glancing at the other man. Familiar. Oddly so. But then the hood was up, curse his rotten luck. Nose and lips weren’t much identification.

Okay… shiny. Everywhere. Oh gods. Magic? WAS THAT MAGIC? His gut screamed ‘magic’ and his mind screamed ‘trick of light’.

“Might I ask where ARE we?” He asked, squinting. His own hood was up, but then his gray eyes ought to be enough identification. “… and what are you doing?” He asked suspiciously.

MAGIC YOU DOLT! RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOUUUUUUUUUUU

Nonsense. Trick of light.

Penril looked warily around. Not far from him was the hazy figure of someone. Unmistakably a man, and a soldier to boot, by the way he walked and held himself. It was too late to stop the drawing of magical energy from the surrounding greenery, though. The little powders of light were attracted to him irresistibly, and they swirled about him like the light pollen of some flower being blown by a breeze. He watched warily as the man approached. Most of the time Slayers like himself were viewed as only a step better than the monsters they get rid of. Most people didn't like them. Well, he couldn't really blame them, but even an ounce of appreciation...

The man broke into a run. Penril had half a mind to go running as well, but stayed there, letting the magic accumulate into him, but not drawing too much so as to kill half of the plains' greenery in the blink of an eye. He gave a start as the man was close enough for recognition. The soldier. From the Pony.

“Good morn.” The man said. Penril could only manage a small nod.

“If I may ask…” then the guy trailed off. Penril swallowed. More little glimmers of light swirled around him.

“Might I ask where ARE we?” The man squinted now. Gray eyes. Definitely the soldier from the Pony. “… and what are you doing?”

Penril didn't answer. He walked a few steps away, the glimmers following him. "We're in the Marlas plains." He stated plainly. "And I would appreciate it if you stood back."

He attuned his senses to the surroundings. A rumble, from deep within the earth. From his reckoning, still a few miles underneath them. But surfacing. Really fast.

The ground shook, and a few weak bushes were uprooted. A tremendous crash followed, like an explosion, as the gigantic Wurm surfaced, throwing up huge chunks of dirt and grass everywhere.

"Stand back." He said, focusing on the Wurm. The sightless eyes. It's always their weakness. But getting to the eyes may prove tricky.

Penril looked around and spotted two huge boulders half-buried in the grass. Using the energy he accumulated, he levitated the said boulders.

He didn’t answer. Still glimmering suspiciously, for that was how he saw it, Hadrian leered at him. Marlas plains. Hadrian was in the right place then, but something tugged at him, but he couldn’t remember as of yet. Damn it… what did he miss? Those glimmers… they weren’t a trick of light.

"And I would appreciate it if you stood back."

Hadrian blinked, stepping automatically back. An order was an order, right? But now… he eyed the glimmers, seemingly gathering about the man. It was… magic, wasn’t it? Then this man, who was oddly familiar, was a Slayer?

Empty bed, open window.

Hadrian’s hands clenched. Slayers… He still wasn’t over it, even more than thirty years after the ‘incident’. They had taken something from him. A precious person. Maybe it was high time he got even and took one of their own. But then he was bound by a code of honor, but then that code also dictated that he should avenge his sister.

Complications.

A slight rumble. Hadrian looked down. The earth… was it another of these foolish Slayer tricks? There was a metallic hiss as he unsheathed his sword and held it with practiced ease, slightly trembling not from fear, but from anger. Slayers!

A crash followed. Something reared from the ground. Hadrian blinked, sword faltering only a split second before he held it firmly again. A huge… thing. It was long and colored green, with several legs like those of a centipede, multiple huge white eyes and a mouth ringed with gnashing teeth.

All in all, every single bit of it the Slayer’s fault. What else could possibly conjure such a beast HERE, of all PLACES? He felt a slight wetness on his hand, like rain, really and then stinging pain. Biting his lip, Hadrian looked up. Rain…?

No. Something acidic. Ignoring the pain on his hand, Hadrian ducked and rolled behind a boulder. He could hang himself for cowardice later. He needed a plan. He looked up. Sightless eyes, maybe? He watched as the Slayer levitated two boulders. Oh gods, what was he DOING? Was he trying to kill him TOO?

“What in god’s name is THAT?” He yelled. “Slayer….. You’re a Slayer, aren’t you? Did you MAKE THAT THING?”

The wide plains moved in a blurr, as the two companions sped through, hoping to make it to the Marlan Horse Fair on time. It was hot. That was probably the best way to describe the plains. Endless fields of green, and three scorching suns beaming its energy on the vast plains. But it was withstandable, for there was a cool breeze from time to time. And even if there wasn't, they were moving so fast that wind was flowing at them anywyas, cooling both of them off nicely.

Sezerix and Twine, the brown stallion, bolted through the plains. Twine had taken Sezerix to many places, and never failed Sez when he needed the horse to help. Twine was a strong horse, and very fast, but lately, something had been wrong with him. His speed slowed slightly, but his strength started to dwindle at alarming rates. Sezerix was worried, in all truth. He figured that the best place to help out his old friend was at this Marlan Horse Festival, home of the finest horses around...supposedly.

Sezerix suddenly slowed Twine to a simple, easy trot, as he could sense some sort of magic in the air. Sezerix looked around, though there was nothing for miles. As they went further into the plains, Sezerix could then feel the magic getting stronger. But that didn't actually give the location of where it was coming from. Most likely, it was the humongous green creature that did. Sezerix heeled Twine's sides, as he broke into a blistering sprint. Sezerix leaned low on the horse, and unfastened the large broadsword from his back. He could now see two other men there, though one seemed to be hiding behind a rock.

As they got close, Sezerix patted Twine's sides, to tell him to get away as soon as Sezerix jumped off. As they got at a very close distance, Sezerix jumped off Twine, and the horse sprinted in the other direction. The huge, onyx broadsword cleaved at the wurm's body, scoring a large cut on its back. But this was a wurm, a creature that never went down easily. The wurm turned its head to Sezerix, as it suddenly sprung his head towards Sezerix, opening its mouth.

Sezerix brought up his sword horizontally, blocking the incoming bite attack. The sword was stuck between the wurm's teeth. Sezerix would definitely not let the beast have his weapon. Using the oppurtunity, Sezerix jumped up, using his wedged sword as support, and spun around, smashing his heel into the face of the wurm. The green creature screeched an ear tearing scream, as it released its jaws from Sezerix's sword.

All right. Let's see if the rocks do their job. Penril gave his wrist a flick and the rocks in midair started spinning in great velocity, spinning so fast that they were only blurs. A little push with magic hurled the first boulder toward the monster. The wurm swerved, but it was not enough - the spinning rock grazed a good area of its left side, spraying highly acidic blood on the grass. Vile, stinking vapor rose from the wilting plants that the blood had rained on.

The wurm retaliated by spitting. Penril could hear the distinct sprzzt of the bastard's spit through midair. A second flick of wrist gathered a strong wind that scattered the spit away. Penril hurled the second boulder, and the wurm shrieked (if it could actually be called that). More blood. More stinking vapor.

“What in god’s name is THAT?” The soldier yelled. “Slayer….. You’re a Slayer, aren’t you? Did you MAKE THAT THING?”

Penril didn't have time to even turn his head. "Misconception. Slayers cannot do Summoning - that is a magical art that is simply beyond our reach. You all think like that, don't you? You always blame us for every single disaster you've ever experienced, without even looking if you yourselves had a hand in the blame. Pretty unfair." He said that calmly, but he could have spat on the man's face as he did so. Master Zruti had taught Penril well. There would always be people who'd never understand their side of the story...

The Ablest opened his mouth slightly as he sensed another presence - hurtling toward them. He watched - and saw distinctly - as a third man (and a horribly familiar one at that) went for the wurm with a broadsword.

It can't be... Penril thought as his hands fell to his sides.

The wurm shrieked some more as the man's sword tore through its head and mouth, jolting Penril back to reality. Gathering energy, he reached out to the earth, willing them to move by his hands, draining magic from his own body and from the surrounding nature.

There was a great rending noise as four great spikes of earth skewered the wurm, and the monster struggled, acidic blood and all, until it finally ceased to move. Penril let out a long breath and turned to the newcomer.

"Sezerix..."

The thing shrieked. Hadrian covered his ears, however futile it was. His sword dropped momentarily on the grass, and he felt more stinging pain. He resorted to, rather crudely, trying to dodge the acidic substance. It worked though. He picked up his sword as the slayer answered his question rudely. Hadrian’s temper was getting shorter by the second.

"Misconception. Slayers cannot do Summoning - that is a magical art that is simply beyond our reach.” Misconception!? He had the damn right to be angry. His raging temper grew, and his hands shook. Oh, so he thought he could be all ‘high and mighty’ on him, eh? Well not today, Slayer scum! “You all think like that, don't you? You always blame us for every single disaster you've ever experienced, without even looking if you yourselves had a hand in the blame. Pretty unfair." The slayer finished calmly.

Damn right he did. Sis… Big Sis would still be here if it weren’t for THEM. If it weren’t for them, maybe he wouldn’t be so angry at them. He knew the good they did, but that didn’t mean they were immune from his wrath at the death of his sister.

He could only watch as the thing was slaughtered. Another man, one the scum recognized, slashed at the thing with a huge broadsword. The Slayer promptly finished it off with four spikes from the earth.

That power… it scared him, but he wasn’t that scared enough to cower. He walked away from the rock, glaring at the Slayer from his hood and keeping his sword in PLAIN VIEW. One more insulting word, Slayer, and there was nothing in the world that would save you from ME. He thought darkly.

“I take it you two know each other.” He said. On purpose, he did not sheathe his sword. Get that straight, slayer scum. Gray eyes narrowed. Who was this other one? Perhaps an acquaintance of this Slayer? Could be. They seemed to know each other. “What was that thing, and what was it doing here?” He demanded, adding a little sharpness to his voice. He used this voice to address the troops. Spurred them into gear, damn right it should. “It’s not every day you see things like that.” He reasoned. “So out with it, slayer.” He spat the word out. This man should know by now that Hadrian was not one to wait.

Spikes of earth penetrates through the green creature like it was thin paper. Magic could do that kind of thing. Before, Sezerix hardly cared about who was around him. His full attention was on diverting the attention of the beast so the other two could finish the thing. It worked. But then, he saw who he was helping. Penril. Ablest Penril.

Sezerix looked at him. He looked quite different from when they used to be friends back when they were both younger and still apprentices. It was odd. Why was the Ablest here with no guards or anything. For a moment, Sezerix had thought that the other soldier was Penril's guard, until he heard the slight conversation between them. Didn't seem the soldier had a thing for slayers.

Sezerix...

Sezerix tapped his enormous sword on his back a few times, then places it back onto his back.

“What was that thing, and what was it doing here?” the soldier demanded, adding a little sharpness to his voice. “It’s not every day you see things like that.” He reasoned. “So out with it, slayer.”

Sezerix turned to the soldier. He definitely did not really like slayers. Sezerix turned his attention back to Penril. "Long time no see, eh?" said Sezerix in a casual manner. They used to be really good friends, and even though he was the new Ablest, Sezerix still looked at him as regular old Penril, nothing more, nothing less.

Twile galloped back towards Sezerix as the horse knew the danger was gone. He bent low and started to eat some of the grass that carpetted the plains. Memories started to flood back into Sezerix's mind.

"Long time no see, eh?" said Sezerix in a casual manner.

Penril smiled underneath his hood, but no doubt Sezerix could see it. However his moment of happiness at seeing such an old friend was short-lived, as the soldier's voice broke through his thoughts.

“I take it you two know each other.” The soldier said. “What was that thing, and what was it doing here?” He demanded. “It’s not every day you see things like that.” He reasoned. “So out with it, slayer.”

Penril half-turned to Hadrian and observed him silently for a moment.

"That is a terrestrial wurm." Penril explained. "One of the few strays that had burrowed underground from the Barrier ranges and out here on the open in the Marlas plains."

Of course a soldier like himself cannot know of what wurms are. People in Olencia were in blissful ignorance of the real dangers that lurked outside their gardens and beyond their wheat fields. He doubted that even this soldier had ever seen a wurm before.

He moved away, removing the gloves from his hands.

"Sezerix I might need your help if you do not mind; that one was a part of a spawn of four, I think, and its kin would be here any minute. Two heads are better than one, yes?"

Little powders of light swirled around him once more.

Sezerix looked at the ground where the wurm had erupted from. He wondered why they were straying from beyond the Barrier to lands of the inhabitants. Seemed like more and more creatures were appearing like this, and Sezerix thought it was odd.

"Sezerix I might need your help if you do not mind; that one was a part of a spawn of four, I think, and its kin would be here any minute. Two heads are better than one, yes?"

Sezerix smirked. "For the Ablest," said Sezerix, in a joking tone. There were no formalities between them. Well, atleast not for Sezerix. They hadn't seen each other in a long time. It seemed like an awkward reunion but Sezerix didn't mind. He got to see his old friend alive and well again. The best thing was that he didn't seem to bare any grudge to him, even being exiled and all.

Suddenly, the ground started trembling again. "Seems like we'll have to take care of these quick. I have to get to Marlas soon," said Sezerix, as his eyes were set on where he knew the wurms would come out of. In a blink, two wurms blasted out of the same hole, though the hole did widen with the second wurm. A third one quickly followed. Sezerix would not be using his sword. Seemed like he would have to rely on his magic.

Two wurms suddenly launched at him headfirst, ready to make a meal of Sezerix. But Sezerix wouldn't let that happen. Sezerix simply raised a finger, as about fifty blades of grass tore out of the ground, and shot at the wurms neck. People would probably wonder what the hell that would do. The grass easily penetrated through the thick wurm skin, as the wurm cried out. Magic could manipulate the simplest things, such as grass. Sezerix basically manipulated the grass into literal blades. With magic, Sezerix was creative, to say the least. The wurm was still up, but obviously was having some trouble. Sezerix had cut its only way to get air, and it would be a few minutes before it would die...hopefully.

The second wurm closed in on him. Sezerix quickly jumped to the wide, and brought up a solid wall of earth that the wurm blasted into, though it did stop the wurm from getting to Sezerix. "Damn things..." said Sezerix.

Hadrian felt like he didn’t belong, which was natural. Two slayers, both were treating him like dirt. The little gits… He bit his lip. He had to keep his temper in control.

A terrestrial wurm? He had heard of them. Mainly from his brother over in Gayth who sent him the oddest books he could find, one which included something about ‘terrestrial wurms’. The reason why he never knew if that thing a while ago was a wurm was because the book had no pictures or an accurate description. As he gazed at the corpse, he realized half of what was written in the book was speculation. No one, save a slayer, could encounter a wurm and live. If this slayer… this Ablest the other man was calling him, thought he was uneducated, he would stick his sword through him.

But then the title Ablest pertained to the head of the order. Another of the books his brother sent him, about the slayers, despite knowing that Hadrian would explode. See, it was one of the bonuses of long-distance ties. If the other end was angry at you, you were quite safe. So safe if your brother was High Commander and had a riot to quell the moment he received the book.

You had to pity the riot.

“I’m not stupid.” He muttered under his breath, grumbling slightly as he cast a wary eye around. A brood of four? Three to go then. Ick. He knew that his own sword couldn’t penetrate, and it would simply break, but then there was his own strength to consider. If he timed it right and applied the proper force, he could probably cut through halfway through maybe… two wurms before his sword broke. Too risky though, but then it beats being useless. Besides, he was rich. He could commission another sword if this one broke.

Problem solved. Maybe.

The ground began to tremble. Hadrian braced himself. Game plan? Not much really. Act macho and perhaps try out that cut theory, but then that was all of it. He was pretty useless when it came to gigantic wurms with really thick hides and acidic blood and whatnot. But then he couldn’t stand around looking stupid. He had to act.

Two wurms sprang at the other man, while a third followed up, sending grass and dirt everywhere. Hadrian shielded his eyes. Dust. Too much dust. Visibility was near zero. Was that a shape?

The third wurm apparently, had chosen him, of all things. Hadrian raised his sword, trying his best to keep his cool. Okay, sword theory? Right about NOW! He bit his lip to keep himself from shouting a curse word as the wurm launched itself at him; mouth ringed with fangs the size of his hand. Oh gods. Okay.... now was the time to PANIC. PANIC I TELL YOU!

He did the only thing he could do, which had worked BEFORE, but not with a huge terrestrial wurm the size of a hill that was hell-bent on slaughtering him before he hit 60. He put his sword in front of him, horizontally. That was a good thing, since his only had the blade on one side. Blunt side towards him, he had the sharp edge towards the huge thing that was GETTING CLOSER AND REEKING OF ACID OH GODS.

Of course, this maneuver of his was quite reckless indeed. It only worked before because a) the thing he had been stopping before was a bull and b) it was quite a tired bull, which also means if this failed he would be a) wurm food and b) dead before he hit 60.

BANG!

“OH SNAP!”

The wurm hit him like a rampaging bulldozer. His sword cracked. It was a hairline crack; Hadrian didn’t notice it as he was sent skidding through the plains. He eventually came to a stop somewhere further, and his legs were painful, but by the gods, he survived. If only barely. Hadrian blinked as the wurm ceased to move before appearing to grow larger. The acidic smell increased, and Hadrian hastily dove to the right.

The wurm let loose a shower of acid where he was previously. Oh gods, he needed help.

“SLAYER!”

Sezerix swiftly turned as he heard the cry from the soldier. Wait a second. First, he utterly despised Slayers, and now he was asking for help? Sezerix almost was about to let the soldier get melted from the ugly creature's acid, but his Slayer reflexes kicked in. Sezerix extended his arm, as a burst of wind redirected the acid away from the soldier. Sezerix had no time for a comment, as the wurm he was previously fighting started at him again.

Sezerix turned, noting a boulder stuck in the ground. Drawing on some magic, Sezerix pulled the boulder out of the ground, raising it above the wurm. The wurm sprang at Sezerix. In a swift flick of his wrist, the boulder crashed on the wurm, smashing it into the floor, as its acidic blood oozed out from the upper region of the wurm.

The last one. It seemed that Penril and Sezerix had it under control, though the soldier didn't. Apparently he didn't know that weak metal swords would simply be crushed like paper under the freakish might of these vile creatures. "Hey Penril, I'll let you have that one," said Sezerix.

[OOC: Sorry, I know it's short. Kinda in a hurry]

"Hey Penril, I'll let you have that one," said Sezerix.

Penril paused, surprised that the man actually uttered his name. However he shook the thought out of his head as he turned to the Wurm that was obviously hell-bent on pulverizing the good soldier. Hell bent on sending the good man to Valleran's arms, it seemed. The Ablest raised his hand, and light seemingly rose from the plains - from everything within it, from the blades of grass, the pebbles, even the source of ground water underneath. The light gathered in Penril's palm, coalescing.

"Step back, please!" He called to the soldier.

The man obeyed, and Penril extended his gathered magic to the earth, which rumbled upon command. Twenty gigantic spikes of earth erupted from right under the wurm, skewering it, sending huge dollops of its acidic blood around. Penril directed his magic, and air gathered around the three of them, air quickly turning into a whirlwind that deflected the drops of dangerous blood away to do any damage. Finally he put his hand down, and the light faded from his fingers. He took a deep breath. Now he was worn out.

"Hopefully...that is...the last." He panted slightly.

"Hey Penril, I'll let you have that one," said the slayer.

Penril.

"Step back, please!" He, or rather, Penril called to the soldier. Hadrian did so, too stupefied to question the order. Twenty gigantic spikes of earth erupted from right under the wurm, skewering it, sending huge dollops of its acidic blood around. But he didn’t care to notice the drops of death.

Too much on his mind right now.

Who else bore that name? No one else but the King’s son. Hadrian blinked. Penril Tanith. The king’s son. Thought to have been lost…. He saw it himself, but he hadn’t thought… the King SHOULD hear of this. Penril. Unmistakable. He could…. He could what? Make a parent conference? He could try, but he didn’t like magic much. Edgy. If he tried, he’d only look constipated. No thanks.

“Penril Tanith?” He said, almost in disbelief. “You’re that child.” He blinked. Finally dawned on him. Kidnapped by a slayer and turned out to be a slayer. Intriguing. "Why haven't you returned?' He blinked.