An Eliatrope's Journey Book 2

Brakmar

The Eliatrope hardly found it surprising when he came across the very city that the Prince of Brakmar had originated from. A look of disgust crossed his face as the smell of sulfer wafted in front of him and the Eliatrope covered his mouth and nose with the scarf he had wrapped securely around his head. The outfit he wore would consist of a light green, form fitting tank top that revealed scars along his revealed deltoid and biceps. A gold trimmed waist cape, secured with a belt adorned with pouches rested on his hips, covering brown trousers and boots that were armored, yet adorned with gold trimming that matched the markings on his head scarf. The Eliatrope's forearms would be covered with sleeves that were secured mid-bicep, yet left the hands open. Gold adorned bracers would cover his forearms, therefore leaving his hands free from anything that may cover them. A standard spear and his bag sat secure on his back.

The Eliatrope paused briefly in the center of what could be considered a market place. He looked at each of the stalls with a calm look before he continued on. Those who let their curiosity lead them followed the Eliatrope, wondering why one would be there after the destruction of Brakmar during a rather... unfortunate gobball match.

After some time, the Eliatrope stopped and turned to face the growing crowd. "I have not come here to give you a show if that is what you are curious about." The Eliatrope said simply before he waved a dismissive hand. What was there to say? He simply needed information and the Brakmar library may give him an idea on what the city was like. The Eliatrope walked on, the crowd still tailing him like a pack of hungry wolves.

Buildings, hastily repaired after the destruction of Brakmar, greeted the Eliatrope as he walked further on. Multiple guards would attempt to stop him, but he would simply dip out of sight, quickly losing the guards in the tailing crowd. However, after multiple attempts, the Eliatrope would find himself taking one turn too many and paused, looking around at the mess of filthy scum that greeted him. "What a pretty boy! Why don't we bring him home with us to play with?" A lean Rogue sneered as he stepped closer. Mikhail watched the group that started to slink out of the shadows to surround him before he faced the one that spoke.

"My, inviting me to your home before you introduce yourself? What poor manners. Surely your mother raised you better then that? Assuming you have one, that is?" Mikhail asked the Rogue, watching him calmly.

"Oy. No one brings my mother into this." The first Rogue warned as he drew a dagger. The Eliatrope simply smiled. "My apologies. I've simply come here to try to accrue some bodyguards. However, you invited me to your home so why don't we just... hm.... challenge each other?" Mikhail asked.

The Rogue raised an eyebrow. "What are your terms?' He asked.

"If you defeat me, I will go home with you. However, if I win, then you will have to be my bodyguards." Mikhail smiled simply. The leader scoffed, the bandana shifting. "Alright. No holds barred?" The Rogue asked.

"All of you are free to use what you would like." Mikhail smirked. The Rogues smirked. "Soon. You'll be begging us to go home to your own mother-"

"I don't have a mother." Mikhail said simply. The Rogue paused, hesitant. "Ah, er- well, you know what I meant." The Rogue recovered before he fired his gun at the Eliatrope.