"Hey, not so hard I'm still sore from earlier!" the tavern girls always enjoyed examining a warriors scars-- Eldlasa was no stranger to battle and was no stranger to curious women either. She knew how handsome she was and it wasn't only her silver tongue that drew them near. The highest class of elven woman clad in the highest class of paladin armour peppered with the highest class of charisma-- if there was such a thing, Eldlasa had it doubly so in this shithole of a tavern she frequented.

"Warrior or no, a light elf woman really shouldn't be so careless, paladin. There are more than a few on this side of the bridge who would see harm done to you," the tavern girl said as she caressed the shallow wounds with a poultice of medicinal herbs native to the area. Ensuring that each application would burn the paladin as a reminder of her careless behaviour.

The young woman had seen no more than twenty winters Eldlasa thought. Humans didn't live even half as long as she did and yet they could command such beauty-- on occasion. Her black locks of hair cradled a youthful and vibrant face, unmarred by smears of mud and feces like some of the other humans and all orcs seemed to like sporting.

Elves had their beauty but rarely could they become so-- meaty like this girl. Of course many humans were fat pigs, nothing but meat. But not this girl. She worked hard and was well fed despite the poverty of the country this side of the bridge. Even the cheap rags wenches wore still seemed to add to her beauty. The young woman blushed as her eyes occasionally met Eldlasa's, knowing exactly what the elven paladin had on her mind.

"I would rather I be the one with my fingers inside you," Eldlasa said as she winked at the sumptuous human nursing her scars in such an oddly enticing manner. With each touch she felt her skin tingle as the pain left and pleasure replaced it. This girl could make the prospect of torture entice any man or elf, she thought.

"Is that so? And what would we do after, my paladin?"

"My tongue would find purchase inside your ar-- ARGH FUCK THE LORD THAT STINGS!" The tavern was now awash with the laughter of patrons drunk and otherwise. All amused by the gaudy, elf paladin's misfortune. A cacophony of disgusting gurgles and screeches-- common in gatherings of filthy humans.

"All done," the tavern girl said while grinning deviously. Eldlasa smiled back at her weakly, knowing she deserved the pain. Flirtations and mending wounds never did mix well.

"Now please rest while the medicine heals you my paladin," The girls words seemed to bounce off the bewildered elf as they always did. The girl then pressed her supple lips to Eldlasa's, briefly sharing a kiss before heading back to serving the men awaiting their drinks and pleasant company. Eldlasa watched closely as the human girl walked away, eyes feasting on each purposeful stride moving her hips from side to side.

"Humans have such shapely arses, Egron," Eldlasa said to the barkeep, eyes still quite fixated on the young woman's buttocks.

"i can't believe you're still alive. Do you even 'member the wench's bloody name?" the old orc barkeep said in broken english as his voice boomed in annoyance, it always did whenever Eldlasa opened her mouth too often. He was quite an old orc with more lines on his face than men in the tavern. Eldlasa knew orcs could live a while but normally died a long time before they could have such an unforgivably, ugly mug as Egron. Scars punctuated the already, ghastly being standing at the counter. One such scar ran close to a cloudy looking eye, clearly almost blind and dry as if it were already dead and ready to fall right out of its socket. And that is his good eye. The other eye was damaged in a bar brawl long before Eldlasa's time and may as well not even be sitting in that withered, old husk of an orc. As blind as he was, Egron never spilled a drop of ale. She suspects that's because his miserly existence had earned him some uncanny magical ability to not waste literally anything and not spend any money, not even when it made sense to.

"I'd never forget Lith and that arse of hers, you blind fool!" Eldlasa said to the orc with her nose turned up to the ceiling of the mostly unclean tavern, lightly offended by the his jape.

"You aren't too smart for an elf, otherwise you wouldn't be having all them scars. You'll be looking like me in no time," the old orc said chuckling heartily as Eldlasa's pale face grew red. Egron, being as big and stupid as he was, made him just as good at butchering words as he was at butchering people in his youth. Didn't stop his words from biting as they whistled out through his scrambled teeth. Eldlasa knew he was right-- that made his words sting more-- and he was quite ugly. Who would want to be that ugly.

"Maybe if you spent more time pouring drinks and less time gossiping like a woman your wife would still be here," said Eldlasa retorting with a smirk innocently sitting on her face, only slightly holding back a nastier look she truly wanted to dart the old, curmudgeonly orc.

"You finish that request for them fancy folk this time?" Egron said, ignoring the elven snakes attempts to spoil his clearly peaceable state of being. Her awfully smooth face always had perplexed him. What warrior would be so clean-- one who never saw combat surely. Light elves always seemed to spend more time bathing and combing their hair than getting anything practical done. It was a mystery to him how their side of the bridge prospered while his side suffered greatly. He forced the thoughts from his mind as he did air from his nose as he went back to cleaning dirty mugs once he noticed the pompousness drain from her demeanor, slowly replaced by embarrassment and afterwards sadness or misery.

"Arsehole..."

"That a no then you cunt?"

They both traded their last jabs as was customary between them before a small stretch of silence. If a loud bustling bar filled with the dregs of a society could be considered silent to someone. Perhaps to the dead but everything is silent to them. Eldlasa's mind wandered.

"You need comrades, elf. That pretty arse of yours will be pretty dead ifin you don't get some. Then you could be the one doing all the killerin you need for that dream you have."

"I will redeem myself. I'm Lutean, I cannot trust the people of Faaran, Egron."

"Fat lot of good trusting your Lutean friends across the bridge did for yah, stupid elf. You're on our side now and with that curse o' yours-- death'll be coming real soon hehehe."

Eldlasa sat in silence as she looked around the tavern. Observing the scum of the realm loafing about. Cutthroats and laymen the lot of them. Just as likely to kill her as they are to just drink more ale. The people of Faaran hated Luteans. The peace between both groups was still fairly new and their countries weren't fully combined yet. Lutea's selfishness always seemed to want to keep integration from happening and many wondered if the goal of The Lutean royal family was to starve the people of Faaran till they could dissolve the country entirely. During the war, one hundred and fifty years ago, Faaran royal assassins did kill the Lutean Queen after all. The peace was negotiated to prevent more bloodshed but elves have long memories. It was only a matter of time before some form of retribution would occur and that would leave only one country standing. Till then we pretend we all live in one large prosperous society. Lutea Faar being the nam-- who is that? Eldlasa's mind trailed off once more as she noticed a sallow man sitting at the end of the bar by himself.

The man was around thirty winters perhaps and looked quite capable. He was oddly attractive for a potential thief. His matted hair was chestnut and was also cut unevenly, ending at his shoulders. His complexion was tanned, likely from days spent toiling in the sun but Vedinnians were typically darker skinned anyways she remembered. It didn't really matter, humans were quite diverse when compared to other races.

He had many scars-- even on his face-- did he not care to keep his skin beautiful? He at the very least still had both eyes and they were pallid green in colour-- best she could tell from her seat but none of that was what truly peaked Eldlasa's interest. He wore a full compliment of dark armour indicative of a soldier belonging to the Black Legion-- more commonly seen in the possession of men twice his age and thousands of leagues away from a kingdom in the Verdant continent of Earth, Vedinne. Either he is an exemplary soldier or a crafty thief-- he could be of use to Eldlasa if she were to convince him in some way. A thing to keep in mind for later she thought with wild anticipation and curiosity.

"Oi! I'm talking to yah!-- Fuckin' longest ears this side o' the bridge and you're still fuckin' deaf as the dead."

"Apologies milord, could you perhaps repeat that," Eldlasa said, batting her eyelashes with a smirk.

"Sod yah, elf. What'll you have, honey-apple ale again?"

"The only swill I'll drink here but I can't affor--"

"On the house this time again elf."

"How kind of you, Egron. Your shriveled heart hasn't dried out entirely."

"No worries elf. Once they bleed yah and you ain't got any blood left to survive that medicine, I'll peal you out of that pretty pretty gold and white armour then sell it. I'll be keeping that cipher weapon for myself too."

The orcs words were cold and callous. More than usual. Eldlasa sat stunned. A paladin's armour and weapons were made specifically for them by Luteas greatest smiths. The very words and light of God are carved into the cipher weapons that high paladin's carried as well. It was a great offense to treat such cultural masterpieces like common goods to be traded for mere gold and silvers. However, this was hardly the worst thing Egron had ever said to her.

"You hear that elf? Sell your paladn' shite to the Queen here. She'll make me a Duke after that, maybes we'll even git married."

"Honestly, Egron. If I die, you can have it all. I once-- never you mind," Eldlasa stopped herself short with a grimace painting her face, believing she could find better company than a damned orc to share her past with.

"Just pour the shit, if you don't mind."

Egron shrugged and complied gladly, his old crusted hands carefully pouring ale into a clean mug. Not a drop spilled, poured as if he counted each drop himself as well. The dark armoured man suddenly stood from his seat and made his way towards the exit. The thumping of his boots becoming the only sound within the establishment as the other patrons watched the stranger from a strange land leave. Eldlasa also noticed this and decided this stranger might be what she is looking for.

"I might listen to your advice Egron. I need to find someone useful to do the fighting for me," Egron's eyes narrowed and his brows furrowed at the elf's typical misunderstanding of his words but softened his stony face shortly after, realising that she at least listened somewhat this time. It wasn't any of his business what a naive elf did with their life, not that he really knew what naive meant, he was just waiting for his money.

If her words failed to impress surely her looks would she thought. Her platinum blonde hair is cut short at the front and kept in a beautiful ponytail with a few strands hanging next her face she looked graceful, charming and a little dangerous she thought. She had flawless porcelain skin-- another indicator of her elven purity. Eldlasa's golden eyes however, those were her best quality and she was quite proud of them. What man or woman could ever resist her, she smirked as she imagined her overwhelming beauty toppling even the most stoic of people.

Eldlasa drank four mugs of the honey-apple ale, savouring the oddly good flavour each time before the harshness would hit her throat and stomach like a ball of fire meant to kill lesser beings than herself. She exhaled loudly and sharply, slamming down the mug as she stood up to pursue the armoured stranger. Hopefully before the ale would reach her head.

***

"Forty coppers, ten silvers and four whole gold coins, just for you, my boy"

"Why an extra two gold coins?"

"It isn't everyday a strapping young man, such as yourself, protects a caravan and satisfies a humble traders wife in his stead on the same journey. You deserve it lad," the trader said while cracking a wide grin on his rotund face. His head was as heavy as the rest of his body-- a paunchy little man. He was a hard worker by nature-- well most of him worked-- and sported a jovial attitude that seemed to get him everything he wished-- but not for long Deimos grimaced. He and his skinny, little wife were clad in purples, blues and greens, colours that represented the Laroi Vitale islands from the Cerulean continent far to the east. Both made for unusually liberal company and neither of them seemed to like wearing shoes very often. What an odd culture.

"I see," said Deimos. He had little experience with nobles and their perversions. He could never truly understand why so many men not only suffered from impotence, or why they also desired to watch another man perform where he could not. He understood the men that wanted to touch him during the act even less. As for the wives, a few always told him that having someone other than their husband was a guilty pleasure of theirs, others just wanted to be fucked by someone or something for once.

"Will you be spending the night with us lad?" said the trader eagerly to Deimos who looked in the direction of the trader's wife. Both their eyes met, her piercing blue eyes hungrier than ever as she looked over his body from behind bright red bangs of hair and with a beautiful, yet gaunt, face as she lightly caressed her slender form. A small show before a great feast some would say, perhaps meager by his standards. She ran her fingers along her bosom, tracing the edges of her small breasts-- just for him. Her left hand pulled her bright green dress just high enough that he was able to see her naked thighs and no more while her right hand continued the show up above, another line drawing the mans eyes from her neck to the ever so soft valley between her peaks, exactly where she liked to be kissed. All that as she braced herself against the sizeable wagon her husband owned. The edges of the wood had gold painted trims and much of it was painted blue as was typical of an affluent trader's wagon from the Cerulean. She enjoyed the traveling to new and exotic places in the wagon. She enjoyed the new and exotic jewelry given to her in that wagon. But most of all she enjoyed new and exotic cock she took inside that same wagon, Deimos imagined wearily.

Cerulean women were oft thought to be whores and the like by soldiers such as himself. She was no monster, any man with eyes would surely lay with her given the chance. Deimos, however, had little interest in her as she belonged to another man. It wasn't honourable. He felt his stomach churn as he observed her little show, taking care to not paint these thoughts onto his face.

"I will pay you extra? Please?" the trader pleaded, arms outstretched, lifting his too small purple jacket and revealing his large stomach, covered by a too small blue shirt, he so often would try to hide from others. Deimos upon hearing his pleading took one last look towards the wife again. He saw her tongue outside her head licking her teeth and a hand firmly place betwixt her thighs. It was enough to solidify the answer he would give the generous trader.

"No," he said dryly. As dry and in need of rum or ale as he was after traveling with them for weeks on end.

"It would just be one-- maybe two nights perhaps, my good lad."

"I thought Lutea Faar had no nights," Deimos said looking towards the city perpetually bathed in light.

"Ha-have you never journeyed to the land of Dawn?" The trader said, raising one eyebrow.

"I was born in the Verdant lands to the east and have traveled to the Crimson sands of Tarthis even further east. Never the Dawn. The blinding light here-- it is strange."

"Lad, Lutea Faar's moon, Isium bathes the country in the purest light yes. But still, it doesn't mean the sun doesn't set and rise all the same," the trader said as he stifled his laughter and educated the poor soldier. Deimos likely knew nothing more than how to wage wars and how to please women. A handsome duality he thought to himself as he opened one lazy eye to examine the soldier's physique.

"I-I will be in search of other opportunities, apologies," Deimos quickly said upon noticing the trader taking more glances at him. The prospect of spending another night with the fat man and his hyperactive, emaciated wife, was almost too much to bear. Far be it beyond Deimos to disrespect the honest man so he kept his reservations to himself and began making his way towards the tavern.

"We will be leaving in a fortnight!... You will be paid handsomely should you accompany us once more my boy!" the trader shouted in a sing song voice of sorts to no avail. If anything it seemed to make the young soldier walk faster he thought.

Deimos entered the tavern and bought himself a full meal of pork-- or at least it looked like pork-- he wasn't going to argue with a giant orc about it. He just needed to think about his next move now that he had no home to speak of. "Exiled from the Black Legion, what a farce," he whispered to himself as a tavern wench graced him with her presence.

A vibrant girl with flowing black hair and an inviting smile peaking slightly through lips that seemed to be both pursed and plump. Deimos was no stranger to women-- women older than him mostly-- but even he was taken back by her charms. She possessed heavenly beauty in truth.

"May I?" she said as her youthful voice immediately freed his mind, captivating him. She reached down to the rough wooden surface with her soft slender hands to collect the wooden plate and empty mug in front of him. For a brief second Deimos swore she had shot him a sultry look with her deep, green eyes, as she bent towards him-- he might have been too distracted by her sizeable breasts and the silver chain that dangled between them to notice. His heart fluttered, his face grew hot and his pants tightened as she leaned in so comfortably yet uncomfortably close to him.

"That's rather impolite, my lord," the beauty let slip from her lips, prompting Deimos to avert his eyes.

"I meant no offense, I should be more respectful."

"Its fine, please look upon me-- if it pleases you, my lord."

Her words made the battle hardened soldier melt as if he were nothing more than Winter's last frost during Summer's first light. His entire body warmed to her words. Deimos had traveled far and wide to escape his misery but only seemed to find roads laden with reminders of his meager existence and the past he wished to leave behind. Till this very moment. He knew not her name but perhaps if he could speak to her, she could tell him all will be well, tell him to keep fighting the darkness about and within. She could tell him-- to live.

Deimos raised his hand to wave at her from across the room. He wore the brightest smile his face had ever seen and the beauty caught his gaze, returning a warm and inviting smile of her own as she began walking towards him. That is until her face quickly darkened as her eyes shot towards the taverns creaky doors.

With a loud THUD the doors swung open as a battered and bruised elf man stumbled into a table, knocking a stocky, bearded fellow out of his seat. The mans drink was also spilled and the barkeep seemed to make an uproar about it, completely ignoring the elf's presence. The beauty darted towards the elf to pick him up, ignoring the other patron entirely.

"Lith!" the elf choked up from their lungs with a bit of blood-- but much to Deimos' surprise-- it was a woman's voice that came with the words and that blood.

"I'm right here my dear paladin, by the light of God I will see you restored!" The beauty-- no, Lith-- reassured the wounded elf woman, with a firm hand but a trembling voice, as a few patrons helped her move the elf to a seat. Deimos was too distracted by Lith's actions to even realise who she was even assisting.

Lith bolted towards the counter near Deimos and slid over it gracefully to retrieve some sort of ready-made medicinal supplies. If the Legion had women with her fire and splendour it wouldn't have suffered insurmountable loses so frequently, Deimos lamented internally, completely taken in by her heroism.

Lith would then see to the elf's wounds for the next few hours as they exchanged clear signs of courtship ongoing between them. Deimos had always been a hard man and he had to be, but this was unbearable to watch.

After Lith finished licking the elf's wounds-- as Deimos saw it-- she resumed serving other patrons at the tavern. To make matters worse, the elf's ramblings did not seem like they would ever cease. The downtrodden soldier decided he had seen, and heard, enough. He left the few coppers he owed the barkeep on the counter and made his way towards the taverns exit as quickly as he could without actively running. He drew attention but he didn't care. He needed to leave another foolish ideal behind.

Once outside Deimos made his way towards the trees and the thickets away from the hustle and bustle of the village and its tavern. He felt tired as if he were awake all night but it seemed impossible to tell with that infernal moon dousing the entire land in light as bright as a second fucking sun.

He placed his cloak onto the grass by a tree and placed the only items of worth to him carefully onto said cloak. First his helmet, made of Vedinnian black steel, it had been a symbol of his place in the world and it had kept him alive. He looked upon it, reminiscing of times passed. Its place would be at his right side as he knelt down onto the cloak. On his left a coinpurse given to him by his mother, he was no longer held in high esteem like she had hoped for him, he failed her. Next was the very medallion Legionnaires were given once they earned their mantle, proof of true heroism. It no longer represented him and who he had become. Lastly, a torn red scarf and a black shortsword given to him by the Great General he betrayed. That was what burned the most within his chest, a memory too painful for any mortal man to endure he thought. He held back a flood of tears that seemed to well up inside his eyes, breaking the silence with a short gasp as he nearly failed to contain his grief. With a dagger held apart from his chest it was time for him to make amends. He would see himself removed from this life for his sins. He owed her that much.

With a few sharp breaths, the closing of his weary eyes, the racing of his heart and the bulk of his determination, Deimos plu-- "Oi!" a familiar voice interrupted the interruption of his own existence. He opened his eyes and looked up to see the elf ma-- no... Elf woman-- standing over him with her hands on her hips, her thin lips pouting and her golden eyes looked down into his with disdain-- or was it desire?-- he couldn't quite tell.

Deimos had no words. He sat in shock at the woman's audacity. In Vedinne it was customary to keep ones distance when the severance ritual was being performed. But this isn't Vedinne of course.

"If you're planning on bloody removing yourself from this realm, could I have your coinpurse?" The annoying elf said, bleating in the most shrill of tones.

"W-what!?"

"It was only a jest I promise," the elf laughed, "I have a proposition for you, now that I can see that you are clearly a man of honour. Sickeningly so," she scorned.

"Speak...elf," Deimos said as he clenched his jaw, words sounded more like a growl.

"I am High Paladin, Eldlasa Andni of the Lutean Celestial Order, A Pride Knight of Lutea as well, you have heard of us!" said the elf. Her short blonde hair fluttered with the breeze as if on queue with her words. No the words themselves had no part in this. Her very presence seemed to command the winds before Deimos.

"I am aware...yes," Deimos said with his eyes wide. Her golden-white armour, fancy talking and behaviour gave it away indeed. He was speaking to a high-class warrior. She bore the ranks given to the greatest protectors of the realm confidently before him. How could he have misjudged her so.

"Accompany me on my quest for redemption and I shall see your honour restored in kind," Eldlasa said with a friendly glint in her eye and all the charisma of a leader he thought. Something was off about her but he was too awestruck to care.

"I wish to be a hero to the people again, do you promise this? I cannot live a life without honour, paladin,"

"Yes I will see your good name restored and elevated by the power vested in me. I will give you the world, soldier."