"Didn't sound like more than four or five," said the Phantom, shrugging. "I'm not so much worried about the patrol. I'd rather not have to forcibly drag Ayden and Dante along with us because they've discovered they're in company with the infamous Phantom Grey."

"Don't get a swelled head," muttered Eledhe. The Phantom looked slightly offended. "They think I'm a myth," he said indignantly, indicating behind them. "Things like that do make me more inclined to attack. Myth-disproving. Very important."

Eledhe shrugged dismissively. "Well? What are we doing?" Her fingers were drumming a pattern on the hilt of her scimitar with slightly worrying force.

"I like the idea of sending them back scantily clothed," said the Phantom, with a grin at Kjan. "But we haven't fixed our problem."

He was finishing the sentence - in which he had, perhaps, forgotten to keep his voice extremely low - when torchlight flickered on the passage ahead and a decidedly cross voice bellowed, "Oi! Who's there?"

The Phantom bit back a curse. "I have a feeling scantily clothed isn't going to do it," he muttered, and unsheathed his greatsword.

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I'm not getting any inspiration for this right now, sorry.

I should be able to post after the next one, though--there'll be some inspirational elements in that, if things continue to shape up the way they're doing now. But, that's next time, not now.

....can someone else hurry up and reply, and inspire me?

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Before the Phantom had even finished speaking, Kjan had his knives out and poised for action. After all, who was he to deny the soldiers a bit of swordplay? They probably needed practice fighting against a far superior foe.

Just as the Phantom had predicted, a group of five or so armed soldiers rounded the corner. They didn't immediately attack, though. For a moment, they just stared, as though surprised to find armed men waiting for them.

"The Phantom Grey!" one of the younger soldiers cried out suddenly, pointing a finger at said Phantom.

"Shut it," one of his superiors immediately countered. "Already told you, there's no such thing."

"I saw him in Y'rydha not two days ago!" the former protested. "Set to be executed, 'e was."

"Which would explain perfectly why he's here wandering through mountain passes."

The conversation continued on in this manner for quite some time, until Kjan finally relaxed his stance fractionally and began to ignore the bickering altogether. Honestly, some people had no manners at all. Couldn't the soldiers tell that all they wanted to do was have a quick fight and be done with it? There was no sense in carrying on like this and making everyone wait for them to finish their argument concerning whether or not this was, in fact, the myth that they were hunting.

He'd just started contemplating the possible results of simply turning and walking back the way they'd come when his knives snapped up instinctively and only barely saved him from being cleaved in two. This wasn't to say that Kjan had expectional reflexes when it came to other matters, but one only had to go through so many battles before becoming acutely aware of any sharp objects swinging toward one's head. Looking up at his attacker (who was easily a foot taller than he), Kjan merely grinned. The soldiers had apparently decided that, regardless of who the new arrival was, he had no business being there. The fight had begun.

Ayden hollered. Too far back to have heard the soldier's voices, he only knew that Merrell, Kjan, and the woman, whose name he still hadn't caught[/i], were talking quietly and apparently indecisively about something.

He had just started to go forward to ask just when exactly they were planning on having the fire--he couldn't feel his feet anymore--when five soldiers barrelled around the corner. That was when Ayden hollered. One of the rules of his race with Jaer was the avoid soldiers, which they had thought gave him and edge.

Not so, apparently.

What one of the soldiers hollered out, about Merrell being the Phantom, gave him pause, but he leaned rather on the side of the other soldier--the Phantom was a myth.

Then they drew swords and attacked. Ayden's holler broke off on a somewhat strangled, very high-pitched note as he backed away. Quickly. Then his numb foot caught something, and earth and sky switched places, and he found himself admiring--at very close range--the precise edges of a multitude of cold snowflakes; specifically, a snowbank.

He rolled to his feet as quickly as he could, then unslung his pack to use as a rather awkward flail if one of the soldiers should near him. For whatever the reason was that they were attacking, he still had an impossible fear of dying. And pointy bladed-things aimed at him.

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The narrow rock-walled passage made weapons maneuvering clumsy at best, and the Phantom was alternating between frustration at the limitations of his greatsword and detached amusement at the obvious clumsiness of his opponents. "Sure you wouldn't rather join the Phantom?" he said wryly in between clangs of metal on metal. The only reason he wasn't winning the duel with the foremost soldier - probably the pathetically titled captain of the patrol - was because his greatsword was barely shorter than the width of the passage. As it was, the poor fellow could tell he was outmatched.

Swiveling to get a look behind him wasn't really an option, especially with sleet now pouring from a charcoal grey sky to further limit visibility, but the Phantom could tell there we similar scuffles going on behind him. He experienced a brief moment of anxiety about the optics of this, but there really wasn't room to contemplate it.

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The prospect of Regent's men certainly meant things were looking up. If Jate could just manage to join up with them, he could make it home. And possibly get some high praise for providing valuable information about Phantom Grey. And yet, a small part of him wanted to stay with the Phantom's men. He tried to suppress the ridiculous notion, but it kept worming its way back inside.

He didn't have much time to think, though, as men came into the narrow rock passage. Apparently, he was dangerous --at least, according to the patrol. He was forced to pull out his daggers in order to fend off one of them, a scrawny man with a scar down the side of his face. Steel flashing, Jate fought for all he was worth. Sharp pain in his arm stunned him for a moment, but he couldn't give into it for very long. His left arm started losing feeling, and his parries grew weaker. He wasn't sure if he could hold out against the man when a lucky stroke of the dagger reached under the other's ribcage. The man went down in pain. Not wanting to kill the man, Jate clubbed him over the head with the hilt of his dagger.

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going on a journey through my old claims

Unlike the Phantom, Kjan found the narrow passage to be little more than annoying, and almost helpful at times. True, his style tended to incorporate more darting around and tricky footwork than the current environment allowed for, but he at least wasn't as restricted by size as some of the larger men (the Phantom included) were. Though that fact in and of itself was a double-edged sword - he was being forced to rely on brute strength much more than was his wont.

Finally, he lashed out with one leg and forced his opponent down to a level that it was at least convenient to strike the back of his head with the hilt of one knife. A cheap blow, maybe, but about as good as Kjan suspected he would have gotten against that particular foe. Pausing briefly to stoop down and nick one of the fallen guard's daggers, he flung the short blade in the direction of the Phantom's current opponent, where it then struck the rock wall not three inches from the guard's head. Not lethal, then, but hopefully enough to make the man flinch.

Unfortunately, he didn't have time to find out one way or another, as at that time he rather inconveniently found himself faced with a second opponent.

Dante had little problem avoiding most of the individual little duels going on, ducking behind various individuals, trying to stay unnoticed. Once he saw the flash of a blade dangerously close to him, and jumped behind a conveniently placed Eledhe just in time.

And it certainly was <i>hospitable</i> of them to fail to mention they were a bunch of revolutionaries before they hired him. Sneaking up behind Ardan's - or Phaerin's, rather - weary-looking opponent, he aimed a couple of well placed blows on the back on the man's head. The guard staggered backwards, while Dante rubbed his fist and scowled at Ardan - Phaerin - whoever-he-was. "Leaving out a few facts about ourself, aren't we <i>Master Grey</i>?"

He shot a venomous look in Kjan's direction, <i>...you haven't pulled anything over my eyes, fools.</i>

The poor guard rose nobly to his feet again, Dante sighed impatiently and hit him again.

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<center>
"The piano is able to communicate the subtlest universal truths by means of wood, metal and vibrating air."

"Don't kill him!" the Phantom caught the man as he went down, wincing at the sound of something cracking. Curse it, curse it, curse it - there'd been no time to warn the group to take as little life as possible. He sheathed his greatsword with a frustrated screech of metal and informed Dante curtly - "It's Phantom Grey."

Eledhe had neatly managed to capture one - surprising, considering her penchant for violence, that she hadn't killed him on the spot - and was extracting a length of rope to bind his hands. Various others were standing over bodies that the Phantom fervently hoped were not dead. He bent to quickly find a pulse on the nearest one, but other matters pressed. Ayden looked shocked and Dante's expression was set angrily; there went any hope of remaining even partly anonymous.

There was a moment of uncertain silence. Eledhe shifted position warily, knowing all too well that this could be the moment another rebellion crumbled. She'd seen less egregious mistakes spell destruction.

"Right," the Phantom said coolly into the silence. "I am Phantom Grey. I think it would be safe to say I'm not a myth."

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"And I am Kjan Armadur," Kjan announced, stepping up on the Phantom's right side. "Somewhat like I already told you....I'm not a myth either, in case you were wondering."

Silence - aside from the increasingly ominous rumbles of thunder - rested heavily on the group as Kjan shifted uneasily from one foot to the other. Neither of their newly-acquired companions looked overly impressed or inclined to alter their opinions. Tough crowd.

Kjan cleared his throat. "Right, then. I, for one, am freezing. I would like to respectfully request that you forestall all rage and subsequent maiming and/or killing until we have had adequate time to get out of this lovely weather and properly consider any questions you may have."

double post...ignore

Phantom. Grey? Phantom Grey?

Ayden's mind whirled. Of all possible situations to fall into, and all possible people to unfortunately meet, he met the outlaw? The one who didn't really exist? The one who had so many stories told about him that he would have to be nearly omnipotent to carry them off? He existed?

No. Impossible. He couldn't. Ayden must have merely fallen in with a delirious rogue. Definitely. After all, his luck couldn't be that bad. It had never been that bad. Ever.

And yet, it seemed it was, now. He goggled. He stared. He even blinked.

Then his eyes rolled back, and completed the reaction as he toppled over backward into blackness. His luck couldn't be bad enough that he was in the company of the land's most famous outlaw, who was simultaneously the most fearsome murderer and the most devoted guardian it had.

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Jate nearly laughed outright at the looks on the newcomers faces. Obviously, they weren't too keen on falling in with these dangerous criminals. The one though, Ayden, apparently was really shocked. He nearly hit his head on a rock when he fainted. Though...

"Um..I think hypothermia is setting in on him. What with the river, then the fight, and now this surprise and all. We've got to get a fire as soon as possible. And what are we going to do with them?" He motioned to the unconscious guards.

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going on a journey through my old claims

The Phantom was looking at Ayden's form in the snow and wearing a most peculiar expression somewhere between flatterment and confusion. "Wasn't aware I was quite so well-known as all that," he muttered to himself, looking not halfway displeased by it.

"Two of you can carry him," he said, motioning to Ayden. "The guards'll be awake in a matter of minutes, so if you want anything..." he quirked an eyebrow at Kjan, "now's the time."

There was a flurry of activity - Eledhe in particular set to enthusiastically looting the weapons of the unfortunate patrol, though it was debatable how many she'd actually keep - and the Phantom attempted to make his way out of the dangerously red-faced Dante's line of vision with some creative maneuvering. "Is he still looking?" he muttered at Kjan, pretending to turn out one of the solder's pockets.

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Kjan finished emptying the soldier's money purse (why one needed money in the wilderness was beyond him, but he was sure he'd find good use for it in a town somewhere), then glanced discreetly over his shoulder. "Hard to say," he replied, shrugging dismissively. "He seems to be scowling quite intently in your general direction, but it could just as easily be a bout of indigestion. Or he could be glaring at me, as I am also in your general direction. Always impossible to tell with a stare as vacant as his."

Shrugging once more, Kjan set about searching the solider for anything else of value. Thus far, he had a pouch of coins, a small dagger that had caught his eye, and as many ration pouches as he could take in good conscience. A few years ago, he might have had more trouble with this whole stealing business, but he was also a firm believer in situational ethics. After all, the guards couldn't have been more than a day or two from their post, upon returning to which they would be issued more standard-issue rations and standard-issue gear along with their standard-issue wages. The Phantom's group, on the other hand, had very limited resources and the unexpected addition of two men to their party. It made perfect sense, really.

After searching briefly for a place to put the newly-acquired dagger, he settled for sliding it into his boot - a rather original idea, that - and moved on to the next soldier. Finding that there was very little left (he suspected Eledhe), he finally picked up the man's discarded sword and stood up to face Jate. "You need a better weapon than that butter knife you're holding," he said, extending the hilt of the sword toward the younger man. "Just don't get any ideas."

Without waiting for a response, Kjan made his way back over to the Phantom. "We are planning on finding shelter soon, yes?"

Jate was startled as Kjan handed him the sword. Taking it without thinking, he stared down at the sharp blade. It's stolen, was his first thought. The answer came right back though. So? He would've killed you with it had you not fought. You deserve his sword. He continued to argue with himself. Stealing it is wrong. What can it hurt? He can get a new one easily enough from the Regent's money. But what if he needs to defend himself until then? Wincing as he moved his arm, Jate decided the man could defend himself well and good and belted the sword around his waist.

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going on a journey through my old claims