The Streets of Sangue

Galmdrag traveled packed tightly among his group of royal guards. They were the finest soldiers he had within Sangue, a mix of various races from Terra. They were clad in mostly heavy armor, carrying a vast assortment of fancy weapons and equipment. They were truly a fighting force to be reckoned with. Currently, they were headed out to battle. It was a monthly thing, where Galmdrag would treat his favorite guards to a hunt of the utmost skill. The hunt varied from time to time, it was usually for some extremely rare and exotic beast, or for the head of a very strong criminal. Either way his men enjoyed the time, it was a good way to keep troop morale up.

They steadily approached the entrance to Sangue, where they would take their leave to the open desert to begin the hunt. This was one of the only times Galmdrag felt happiness anymore, for he still mourned the loss of his son and wife.

Olran stumbled forward, under the what now seemed refreshing heat of the sun. His go seemed to bless him by releaving him of the sun's scorching heat, but the burning sand and the impact of huinger plagued him. Even after eating the salamander days before, he was starving now. He sipped his bow into his hand and looked for any thing to hunt. After miles more of nothing but sand, and when he thought he was going to loose the fight with hunger, he found it. A city in the distance! Perhaps Occasus gave him another blessing! He was no more than half a mile from it! He slowly slipped into unconciousness, thanking his god that when he awaoke, he could seek shelter in the city.

"What is fate...?"

The busy streets of Sangue welcomed exquisite traders from all over the world, who tried their luck to buy the spices of the city at low prices and sell their goods that were attained from travelling the entire surface of Terra. The veteran warriors that lived here were part of the powerful army of the kingdom of Verlaat, being dispatched to the cities and villages in order to maintain organization and keep crime from increasing greatly. However, like any unbalanced city, Sangue's interests are in the wealthiest of citizens, while the poor and feeble workforce live in the secondary streets like trash. What a visitor did not know was that the best restaurants and shops of the great city of Sangue were found in the most hidden of alleys, where dark business is attended to.

The guards of Sangue do not care about such trivialities. It is not because they are lazy... In fact, the veteran and hardened warriors of Verlaat would just die if they were to enter the "Black Market". Ruthless assassins and lunatic muggers live in the underground levels and sewers of the city, always seeking new jobs and gathering to create small gangs. Little do the citizens know that there is a great amount of wars happening right beneath their homes. For Thyreus, who is known as "The Wandering Swordsman that came from Nowhere", it is a safe haven from the patrols that chase him. The swordsman is not a mercenary. While he is comfortable in approaching an assassin and initiate a dialog, there is nothing more that he exchanges with these people.

So why would he be wanted by the military forces of Sangue? Thyreus is one that always tries to improve. For that reason alone, he pushes himself to the limit, continuously testing his abilities and skills in battle. Due to the simple fact that the warriors of Verlaat are rumored to be quite strong, the swordsman wanted to test them to the fullest. It is not needed to say that things didn't go well for the warriors approached by Thyreus.

"Damn strays..."

Thyreus, Son of Thoran, Swordsman of Terra... He came to the surface, stepping out of the sewer system to feel daylight shining on his face. Walking towards the main street, he made his way through the wandering crowd. He was fed up of this city and needed to change airs. The destination was not important, but he needed to leave. With his trust leather backpack on his backs, carrying enough food to survive one week, he arrived at the gates of Sangue. With a bottle full of fresh water strapped on the right side of his waist and his trusty longsword on the left, the Demigod stepped forward. With enough luck, he would be able to bypass the guards of the gate without being recognized. However, it wouldn't take long for his eyes to narrow with rage, his teeth screeching silently in anger. An unconscious centaur was found in the desert and the guards were laughing and kicking his body, which resembled that of a corpse.

"Fucking... Strays...!"

Bloodlust... Fitful of the son of the God of War... Thyreus gripped his longsword's hilt with his right hand, unsheathing its blade with all the strength in his body. The sun's rays shined on the blade as he stepped towards the warriors of Verlaat, the cutting edge falling down on one of the guards' right shoulder, slashing through the flesh as blood spilled with such intensity and grace. The guard stumbled on his knees, screaming in pain as the other three man remained speechless for moments before rushing to fight against Thyreus. "If you come and kill me..." Said Thyreus, "I will kill you first!"

Filthy strays. They scream and rage violently, cursing the Demigod as they swing hard from above. Their blows have no beauty, they are simple movements made out of despair. Thyreus skillfully dodges, leaning his body to the left as a downwards slash comes from one of the guards. Such reflexes make the guard's eyes widen of surprise as he realizes the mistake he just made, a left palm thrusting against his nose, thrusting it upwards and breaking it. Another one attempts to capitalize on Thyreus' distraction, but this swordsman is not distracted at all. He swings his sword to the right, cutting through the heavy and hot air of the desert before each blade clashes against each other. The Demigod's sheer strength allows him to force his sword further to the right and rupture the other man's defenses. A straight punch to the throat, finishing with a slash of his sword to the neck... The blood that is sprayed covers Thyreus' face as he smiles out of pleasure and adrenaline. He brings his tongue to lick the blood out of his lips, swallowing it whole before looking at the last guard. "Aren't you going to attack me?" He asked, relieving his stance and lowering his sword. "I won't bite... Hard..."

Coward... The last guard runs as Thyreus sighs of disappointment. "Hardened warriors...?" He looks over at the cart in which lies the knocked out centaur. To continue in Sangue would be the death of those two, that was certain. So Thyreus jumped onto the cart that was being pulled by a horse and took the leash. "Now, Mr. Horsey... Will you be so kind that you get us out of here?" He tapped the animal's rear gently, getting comfortable on the wooden seat as it took them away from Sangue. On the way to the desert, Thyreus opened his backpack and laid some food by the centaur's side, along with his bottle of water. He was not so kind before... Maybe he sought humility in order to become stronger. The arrogant were always the eluded.

Little did Thyreus know that this centaur was known as Olran...

[OOC: Tell me if ya don't like the post, Olran, I can always change it. Just thought it would be nice to have it like this]

(I'm fine with it, Galmdrag can find us on his hunt )
Olran blinked slowly, once more the heat of the sun seemed non existant to him, but the thirst he had was. He looked around and spoted water. His instincts took in and he grabbed it. He poured some over his dry face and guzzled the rest down like a mad man...Or...Mad Centaur... Olran finished the water and paced the water down. He looked around. He was moving! He sat up somewhat, looking first and his dirty, sandy, blue fur, then to the cart. He was beeing pulled? The last thing he remembered was falling unconcious outside a city, that was shrinking in the distance! He looked up and noticed there was someone controling the cart, He blinked, and grabbed his bow in a defensive moment. "Who...Are you?" He asked cautiously, fingering the bow if he needed to draw it.

Galmdrag's voice boomed to his soldiers, his warcry taking effect on his guard's morale. "Brothers, today for our sacred hunt for blood we track the notorious Minotaur, bastard cousin to the proud centaur. These beasts are quite rare, and it was only by a stroke of luck that we discovered one lurking in the deserts. He is half bull, half man, and all blood lust. His rage is unquenchable, and he has terrorized village after village with his ferocious strength. Tonight, brothers, we take the minotaur's head!" His men cheered behind him as he began his journey through the desert, exiting the gates of Sangue. [b]"May Occasus grant us the vision, and Theff grant us the ability to track and kill this beast. May the gods be with us all. I promise a slab of the bull's finest meat to the man who deals the final blow!" Again, they cheered... Galmdrag was one of the best military commanders due to the simple fact he was always capable of keeping his soldier's morale high.

By now the soldiers were basically charging through the deserts... Steadily approaching the cart that carried the centaur and demi-god. Galmdrag paid little attention to the cart as he passed by, it wasn't that odd to see a cart a bit of ways from the city. The thunderous roar of trampling boots and hooves took over the area while they passed by... To come so close to his son without knowing it, it would be a real surprise and shame for Galmdrag.

Olran blinked as the sound of hooves raced by. A centaur! A centaur! He mused. What would one be doing do far from the tribes? The centaur looked strong, but aged, as if time had taken its toll on the old warrior. With him was an ivory patterend bow, rsembling finer craftmanship than man. Perhaps a master centaur crafted the bow. Olran looked at his bow. Both, bows of the gods, but Galmdrag's bow was the bow of Theff, and thus was designed to be more beautiful than any other, as it was his tool, and his weapon. He blinked and marvled at it from a distance. He called out. "Centaur! What be you doing in a desert like this?"

Galmdrag raised his hand, ordering the horde to stop. The voice of another centaur surprised him.. It was rare for centaurs to journey this far south from their clans, especially in times of war. As he turned to face the centaur his expression dropped. Astounded, he could barely speak words for what he saw before him. Was it a trick..? No, too real to be an illusion. Perhaps he had finally gone insane from the nightmares of his past, either way he would not let this chance go by. "Ol-...O-Olran!" He shouted, shoving past the sweaty bodies of his honor guard to get to his son. "M-my... son! You live!"

Olran blinked several times. The elder centaur called him son, but...How could that be? his father and mother were both far up north with the Bluehuff tribe, weren't they? He blinked. The centaur did resemble his father! Olran was shocked, age had taken a toll on his father's body. He blinked out an snarled, wiping a hoof on the floor of the cart. He snarled. "What are you doing here father? Did you leave mother alone, like how I was forced to go out alone?" He shouted, more of a statemant of anger than an honest question. He thought back to the happy times he would share with his father and mother, and all the things they would do together. He couldn't bare it any longer. His hooves quaked in fear and anxiety. He sruggled to hold back the tears. "Why father? Why did you let them send me away?" He asked, loosing the fight to hold back the tears.

This was rather unlucky. At least that was what it felt like at first when Thyreus spotted more centaurs coming from Sangue, filled with bloodlust (you don't actually need to be, just throwing that there o.o please don't hurt me) and desire. A hunting party? How ironic for them to come take their own away. However, it seemed that this centaur named Olran was the heir of the leader of the party. Not only that, but that leader was Galmdrag, the Head of Sangue. The Demigod sighed and turned his upper body to the side so he could meet the group with his brown eyes. "A reunion, eh...?" He murmured as the two spoke. It seemed that this centaur Thyreus saved was expelled from his clan a long time ago for some reason Thyreus did not seem to care about. He scratched his right temple with his index finger.

Out of a sudden, the Son of Thoran planked his right foot on the seat and sprung it as he jumped to the edge of the back of the cart, balancing himself on his feet as he stood by the centaur known as Olran. "Father or not, you should teach your warriors some manners. It's ironic to see a city governed by a centaur, yet there are so many Centaur-Haters. It kind of makes me sick, ya?" He said, gripping his sheathed longsword with his left hand. "Forgive me for the rambling without a proper introduction... I'm a swordsman known as Thyreus Adenar. Very pleased to meet y'all hypocrite bastards." The swordsman's uncontrollable mentality simply put for war was shown. It was not rage that consumed him, even though it was at the brink of succeeding it. No, Thyreus was quite disgusted by the simple fact that the son of such a powerful man was toyed with by the very own guards of said powerful man.

He hopped and stretched his legs forward, falling on the edge of the cart with his butt and laying his right forearm on the same side's thigh. Thyreus sighed... Was it a bit of guilt that got to him? Probably he was too damn harsh just now and that wasn't what he was expecting to gain from his travels. To find humility... "I apologize for the disrespect..." Then he released the grip over his longsword, sticking his thumb out and pointing at Olran as he looked at his father, Galmdrag. "If the fuckers knew who the boy was, they wouldn't be poking him with sticks like if he was a corpse... No, if they had enough decency and discipline, they wouldn't be dead by now. You saw the gates, right?" The swordsman waited for the two to react, although centaurs were keen on ignoring others. (bastards, you didn't wait for me <.<) Sitting there, Thyreus waited.

[OOC: Can you wait for me this time, pwease? x.x]

Olran blinked, not honestly knowing about himself eign poked like a dead carcus. He blinked, no longer fiding the strength to hold his bow as it fell to the carts floor. He blinked and snorted in suprise before turning to look at the Demi-God fully. "Hypocrite?" He echoed. "What do you mean?" He asked, sdenly feeling a small bit of rage boil inside his center as he reached down to grasp his bow firmly between his hands.

[I'm going ahead and post since Galmdrag isn't.]

Thyreus shrugged and sighed. Maybe Olran did not understand that he was not the target of the insults, but the other centaurs that laughed and partied in the wealthier parts of town as the secondary streets were swarmed with racist thugs that relied on brutal methods to enjoy their free time. The gates from which Olran was being taken were so far away from the main district that anyone could do whatever they liked to him and that was happening. If it hadn't been for the Adenar, things could get quite nasty. "Olran, that's your name right? You've been too long in the desert to actually try and fight. I'm not here to make enemies among the centaurs, but I do speak my mind in certain things. That man, your father or not, runs a very filthy city..." Not holding his words back, the Demigod hopped from the edge of the cart and stumbled on the dry ground of the desert with his feet, looking at those present in the place. "So, you should build your strengths up with the food I have in that backpack..." He said with a gentle smile before turning his attention at the other centaurs, who seemed quite more dangerous than Olran.

Galmdrag sighed... Normally, he would be scolding the man insulting his city very boldly... However, his son would take far more priority then that, not to mention the aura given off the man was not that of a normal mortal human. "My son... I can understand if you hate me, and can understand if you always will... But please, listen to my story. I did what I had to do..." He said, speaking with much grief and regret in his voice. "At the time of your banishment I would have normally done all in my will to lift the punishment even if it meant transferring it upon myself... However... Your mother, the beautiful centaur she was, was already deep into her pregnancy with what would have been your younger sibling. She was already only a few months at the most due with my second son, and if I were to die or be forced to leave the village it would have been impossible for her to continue fending for herself and continue to with a child. Even if you were there for her, you would have been forced to go to war still, or worse be forced into the slave trade as a defiant of our customs. As brute and disgusting as it sounds, I had to choose between two lives and one... I had to trust that you would be able to live on in the deserts. I would continue to pray every night to Occasus and Theff for your safe travel and living." Galmdrag yet again sighed... If you looked closely you could tell his eyes were tearing up slightly. "Unfortunately... Only around two months later, your mother entered a premature pregnancy. Due to my circumstances being my fame in the clan and my mate's status, I had been granted allowance to stay with her while the rest of the males were at war. Of course though, there would be nothing I could do. It would have taken a blessing from the greater gods of healing and life to save them, your mother and brother. Both of them were to die that night in the cold sands of Verlaat under the moon. Completely distressed, I decided there was nothing left within the clan for me, and if I were to ever look upon myself in the mirror without complete disgust I would have to discover my son alive and well." The old, old centaur grunted slightly. "On my journeys I fell upon the city of blood known as Sangue, and quickly discovered relief from my past in the heat of battle. My reputation as a war hero traveled from the clan into Sangue quickly, and I rose up onto the seat of power." He looked away from his son's figure. "I shall understand if you wish to not speak with me... However, if you wish, I can surely grant you sanctum within the city."

A group of armor clad raiders rise out of sands, having hid there with a piece of sand covered sheet, all of them armed with heavy javelins to pierce the armored soldier, having surrounded the honor guards simply because they walked into a trap or at least an ambush scenario where merchants are often ambushed, having left the city's safety to the dangerous desert dunes. Of all of them, the person whom appears to be the leader due to his blackened armor, and his posture, paced forward. Raiders stringing up their longbows at the honor guards. The masked raider leader pulling off his white desert turban, wearing it as it were a scarf around the neck.

"It seems the little ponies are having a family reunion... aww... did it just ever occur to you how much more I want to kill you? Especially..." Hyksos, the notorious raider warlord of the desert, known for spreading tyranny over the desert villages, pointed his finger at Galmdrag, the centaur that is off at a distance, but is still in speaking range. Speaking more in a highly toned jeer. "You. The leader of Sangue! I despise your self righteousness, and all that is horsey and mammalistic about you. But now now, let's try to maintain civility, shall we now? Rather than massacre all of your man like the filthy useless bastards they are, I would prefer it if I were to face this bold and mighty centaur leader of the desert city, one on one, otherwise this would be too bloody easy with no fun in it. No honor guards, no raider legions, simply me and you in a combat with our swords. If I were to win, you will give me all of your possessions... along with your life, and that floozy lad with a weird vibe to him over there with the sword, not to mention your bastard 'son'." He smiled pleasantly, "If you were to win, it would be more beneficial for you to take up my services or my own life, you can do whatever with it, of course, that is IF you win."

Drawing out his desert scimitar, gesturing for the archers to unload all of their arrows at a moment's notice were anyone to make a sudden move and the challenge goes unanswered for a simple hostile skirmish, smiling at the possibility that a stray arrow might kill the bastard son of Galmdrag in this ensuing battle, meaning he held the card. Pointing at a few archers, he gestured for them to prepare to shoot at the cart with fire arrows and burn it if need be. His boots bracing against the sandy terrain, charcoal eyes glancing off at the horse-man or man-horse, whatever the Hell that thing was.

Thoran walked out of one of the alleys and stood in between Hyksos and the Centaur Galmdrag. He looked at his scimitar, and took out his spear. He pointed it at Hyksos, and laughed. It was a laugh that radiated power. "Do not threaten my son, you ignorant fool. He could eat you for breakfast, but I am bored. I give you one chance to let these people continue on your way, or I shall kill you and all of your men. It is your decision," he said as his spear morphed into a Broadsword. He also wore a set of mighty chainmail, but that was not the true oddity of this man. He emanated power, even more so than that "guy with the sword". His face had a look of patience, obviously someone who was experienced in warcraft. "I have just finished hunting, and thought I would pay a visit to my son. But then, you had to come and spoil a nice family reunion, and threaten my son while at it. You fight me if you fight any one at all, not him. Let him meet his son. This city is one of my favorite city's. It gives me a good portion of worshipers."

He stood there, taunting Hyksos, his tirade finally done.

Hyksos raised an eyebrow, another guy with a weird vibe to him. Then he suddenly recognized the man, it was from one of those iconographies. Something from those books and scriptures he saw in a pantheon once he remember that he went to get free wine and a little bit of food. The appearance matches the description, and it helps explain the weird vibe he gets from him. "Well well, aren't I the lucky one? To be visited by someone whose realm I often frequent to in my warring days." He remarked with poisonous enthusiasm, sword pointed at Galmdrag still. "Let's see... choice to be smited by a deity of war by choosing to fight these chaps over here, leave with my life and my band's life intact or..."

He sheathed his scimitar within the sheathe, bold as always, he steps forth to face Thoran, at least a bit since he is in front of him and the Centaur. "Perhaps to make it up to you, I will travel with your son with my band, and will serve him, but in return, I expect to be sent out on a quest of sorts, you see... I am rather bored with this mundane desert, and would rather travel to lands abroad performing heroic deeds, or does that not satisfy you to make yourself bloodthirsty warriors dedicated to appeasing you out of this rugged desert band? I guarantee it, it will be a great treat, much better to slay in your name than dedicate a pious life to you." He offered up, retaining that smile still, as he knew his limits, odds are he would be killed, given he simply wielded a weapon that could be destroyed by Thoran, and he would be killed off in many ways from the warrior patron, not to mention nasty stories of the patron would make it a better alternative.

(This group is getting large O.o Taki, Myself, Hykoss, eventually Kari, O.o)

In a moment of pacafistic fright, Olaran drew his bow back and released a flaming arrow into the sky. It burned red and seemed to glow with divine strength. The arrow hit the ground and slwoly fadded Olran shuffled out of the small cart, hooves scraping its floors, and found no comfort in the hot desert sand. Almost ignoring all other pressence, he looked at his father. A brother, dead? His mother, dead? This could not be! Olran seemed to tune most all out fromt he world as his hooves shifted in anger and he let out a loud wail of pain. How could his mother be dead?! How could he loose a sibling he never knew?! Olran was too pianed to notice the arriaval of Thoran, or the desert raiders, only weep in the misery of his lost family. And, for the first time since he left his tribe, he cried.

He watched as this place was starting to get quite crowded. It seemed that some brigands had ambushed the centaurs and suddenly this crazy guy appeared talking about some son of his. Oh right, it was Thoran, Thyreus' father. The Adenar sighed as this commotion was getting rather annoying. "Blah Blah Blah..." Those were the words of the everyone as the swordsman scratched his hair and released gas from his butt... Some people would call it a very silent yet deadly fart. At least lethal enough to make Olran cry...

Galmdrag had already begone to drain everyone out. His honor guard were the elite of the elite, the best trained soldiers out of one of the only cities to be famed for its soldiers, and so he trusted in their ability to knock back any outside influences... Though some had already begone to bow in respect for the god that appeared before them. "My son... I realize it must be an impact... But you are a centaur!" Galmdrag's voice boomed and raised dramatically. "Hold your head up with honor, your mother would not wish to see you show weakness in front of other troops. Your mother would wish for you to live on with a new life, a happier life. Not sulking in the past as I have done for the past odd number of years."

Galmdrag sighed as his attention turned to the meek force brought before him. "You dare to bring a pathetic band of rogues into my territory... You dare to trample on my reunion with my own son..? Disgusting. My city may not be the cleanest, or the brightest... But within it's walls are the hardest working citizens you will ever know. Everyone one of them has earned their riches by defending their city's walls from outside threats. Any piece of exotic furniture or of some fancy pleasure is something they earned on their travels through enemy territories. The gambling and underground marketing that takes place beneath it is how a soldier relaxes from the torment of constant war. Sangue is in such a place that we must always be willing to risk our lives to defend it's territory and claim our resources, less we all be destroyed by the desert and rogues. No one will insult my city while in my presence."

Olran blinked several times. He was not the perfect soldier, like his father was. He didn't even want to fight! He sighed as he used his free hand to wipe his nose. He glared narrowly at his father. "I am sorry I am not the little warrior you wanted, then. But crying is not a sign of weakness, father." He said, befor turning and trying to take in all the new arrivals, even the more divine ones. There was a god their now, but he was too weepy to care. He emarly shunned it all out again, his grop on his bow tighter than ever. They just saw eachother again, and his father wouldn't even let him shed tears?!

Thorn turned his back on the person who led the pathetic band. He turned and faced the centaur called Galmdrag. He had a stern expression on his face, and one that had little room for tolerance. "Fool, crying is a natural thought for a warrior. If he doesn't feel remorse sometimes, two things happen. He becomes a remorseless killing machine, more assassin than warrior. Or he goes insane, horribly insane. Now, would you like that to happen to your son? I did not think so. Especially when the tears are also happiness and relief! You would not believe how many warriors cry after a huge battle, which you've never been in. It is a huge amount, larger than you could ever imagine. After the fear takes you, and it's huge amounts of men against huge amounts of men, and you know that you survived and your enemies didn't, it's a feeling you will never forget."

He turned to Olran, and nodded to him. He, using his divine powers, attempted to calm Olran down (not much of a "try", since I'm a god but I don't want to "autohit"), and make him feel relieved.

Gesturing for his proud band to leave off, Hyksos smiled. Keeping a few things in mind, he paces off into the desert, disappearing into the mirage along with his men. All of them disgruntled yet confidant in what the warlord has planned. It was all but without a word, as all of this is turning into a dramafest, involving a centaur that is a pussy, a vain and impetuous deity, and some lad wielding a sword. Nonetheless, it's best to pick off at camp and resupply.

----> ???

Thoran turned, and quickly jumped at Thyreus. He grabbed him by the arm, and started dragging him off. (It may look like an auto hit, but we already talked about this so bleh). "We have much to talk about, son. I have an interesting proposition for you, and hell, it's been awhile since we've visited. We shall go to my hall; the plains of everfrost," he finished as they both disappeared into an alleyway. (Yes, I know, short post)


--------> Exit to plains of everfrost.

Disappears with Thoran.

-> Exit