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As the sun sprinkled down through the dense canopy and bathed the forest floor in a light dusting of heat and light. The tree tops rustled as a slight breeze hinted at the heat of summer to come and warmed the lone figure leaning from a wagon window. Naz enjoyed the whole scene in a gentle sway of her wagon, allowing herself to almost believe that this was just another trip. That there was the sound of several other wagons and chatting filling the air talking of the next town.

Yet as Naz opened her eyes, the quiet of the area and lack of wagons confirmed what she already knew. This was not her normal journey, there no other wagons, no chatter, no next town. No, there was only the sound of four wheels and axles turning and moving a wagon forward. There was only a one Om'shad grunt and snorting as he tracked forward. However, Naz knew with complete surity that she was not the only person on the road and was not the only person currently in this wagon.

Well she was in, but she wasn't alone. Leaning away from wagon window, she gingerly got to her feet going with the sway instead of against it as she walked towards the wagon's door. Opening it, she found that her traveling companion was handling the wagon with...well ease wasn't the right word, but it wasn't discomfort.

"Oi, I think we best stop for the now, seein' as za sun is up over head. Unless ye donat want lunch, I have some fresh jerky, bread, and some cheese that has kept well...though we be needin' to hunt before we move on," she said leaned against the doorway, bracing her hand on the other side.Smirking, she continued, "So ye can pull this thin' over to ze side of the road. Like I taught ye last night."

Naz took a moment to enjoy the feel of living. It was short lived, of course, but the break gave her time as her companion settled then on the side of the road. There was a slight breeze from the South, hinting at a coming shower later that day, maybe. There wasn't much noise, aside from the chirping and rare rustle of small creatures in the underbrush.

Perfect, just not for hunting, she thought as she turned to go into the wagon as Jovanni worked on unhitching the Om'shad. Squatting she open the cooling draw, a rune marked cabinet that was meant to keep good cool and well preserved. Setting the half a roll of cheese and sliced turkey down on the small counter above, she stood on the tops of her toes to reach the upper cabinets where she pulled a nice roll of bread. Just before she walked out, she heard Jovaani's question and smirked.

"I believe we'd best settle the huntin' thin' later. Tisn't a good time to go off the road to hunt. Plus, ye look like ya need more of a nap zan a huntin' trip, she said as she settled down on the wagon's rim.

Smirking, she pulled a knife from her belt and cut a bit of cheese off, rolled it in some turkey before taking it in one bit. While she chewed, she waved him over and pat a spot on the rim for him with her foot. When she had finished munching she set the wedge of cheese on the a clean leather wrap next to the turkey slices and bread. Glancing up at him, she continued, "I decided it would be best for ye rest, while I care for the huntin'. Tis be for all those concerned right? Plus, It means we can handle the knife lessons later. Sounds good?"

Leaves and twigs snapped as a small spark of silver flashed through the underbrush, finally embedding itself into the targeted prey. Then stillness as the forest return to their typical sounds, before Naz finally moved forward to pick up the dead rabbit. She murmured a small pray to the gods over it before she pulled her rune disk free from the small still warm. The routine, a routine that she had come to know very well in her travels. Yet today, as she moved through the bushes and trees, her mind was filled with the normal complaints or the nerves of excitement that she normal got. Probably because there was something off with this particular routine.

Aye, your huntin' a meal for two and doin' it on yur own, she thought as she tighten the rope on her two hares. Well there was more to it than that. She had hunted on the way too Ja'shid, but it was the add mouth that had made this routine seem so odd. Those questions, she hadn't been able to answer any of them. It had been embarrassing and slight daunting. She shook her head she tried to shake off her impression of the conversation and instead focused on answering the questions.

"Ze first is easy...I suppose. I ain't got any training, tis all instinct and quick judgin'...Tis the second zat bothers me ze most, she thought checking that she had both her rune disk. Absentmindedly, she clicked the two metal disks together before putting them back into her belt pouch. Pulling her hands away, she brushed one against one of her dagger. Pulling it out, she glanced it over. Considering the make, or at least what she knew of it. The metal blade was sharp, the handle was curved and nicely shaped. Naz hadn't consider them much more than useful gifts, when her father had given them to her. The man, had come from another clan and had chosen to stay there.

In fact, if she remember correctly her father came from the Umkak clan. Which explained why she kept the daggers, even when she didn't know how to use them. They had been useful knives or good thief tools, yet as she looked it over. She realized she had been doing them a wrong.

She stared at the blade for a little while, before sighing and putting it back. She might not be a native to the forest, but she knew was foolish to remain far from her native territory. Settling her catch over a shoulder she head back to the road, thinking, I hope zat ze man is well rested, cause I desire to start zem lessons, now."

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Jovaani tossed and turned as he slept his mind plagued by strangest of dreams, little did Jovaani know but he was experiencing something truly odd: he was catching glimpses of visions.

The sun glared harshly as he glimpsed upon a crown lying in the desert. Seemingly abandoned, surrounded by vultures as they tried to swoop in and grab at it. Alone, a dog fought them off, biting and growling, but it seemed an impossible task. For the dog was alone against an innumerable amount of vultures. All of a sudden, lightning fell and a vulture fell with it. From the corpse of the vulture rose a hawk that took to the sky and fought the vultures with a piercing cry arising from its beak. Together hawk and dog managed to push back the vultures, but only a little, as the vultures pushed, pecked and squawked as they tried to reach the crown.

Suddenly, the sand beneath the crown began to shift and turn, and a hand leapt out of the sand. It grabbed the crown, and soon enough a man rose from the sand: his face proud and defiant. The man’s body was wreathed with sand as he placed the crown upon his head. The vultures seemed to grow angrier while the hawk and dog seemed to rejoice. The man leapt forward, and began pinning the vultures to the ground with chains. The vultures struggled to get free but the hawk and the dog made sure that the vultures lay secure. It seemed the fight was over, but in the distance Jovaani saw a figure in the sky. A dragon was approaching, what it intended Jovaani could not know.

Snow then blurred his vision as he saw a castle laden upon a mountain; the scene shifted and Jovaani was standing in a throne room. He saw a man in chains, his features twisted by a black beast upon his back and an odd symbol upon his chest. Upon his face Jovaani could see the briefest flickers of anger, of a dark need to be satisfied. He recognized that need and so recognized the beast: vengeance. The man spoke and out came a withered flower barbed with wicked thorns. A woman, more beautiful than many grabbed the flower and clung to it desperately as if it were a rose in full bloom.

In her hand the dead flower seemed to wilt even further and even so far as to freeze and turn to crystalline ice: brittle and fragile. The woman seemed to notice not this development and only a wicked grin adorned her face as she barked orders and shadows moved and disappeared. The woman’s clothes shifted as the shadows left allowing the light to reveal that it was merely frozen blood in the shape of a dress. The shadows enveloped the man in chains and both promptly disappeared; in walked in a man who seemed to blur at just a glance, his features formless and his voice mere echoes. From within the echoes Jovaani strained to hear the whisper of this man’s intent: “I serve no one, I act because I choose to do so. I act to preserve something far greater than your ambitions would desire.” Jovaani struggled to make out something more about the man but the shadow of a flower appeared and overlaid itself upon the man, shrouding his features even further.

The scene shifted once again to see the man from before dancing away from a woman’s knives, her face awash in tears in light of the broken heart beating away in her chest. Her body and face emitted a cold fury as she tried to pin down this illusive man, this phantom given shape and voice. She seemed to throw accusations at the man, but Jovaani could not hear what she said. The man however, merely laughed and kept dancing away from her attacks. In a furious cry she dove at him managing to tackle him but losing her weapons in the process. As she hammered away at the man’s chest with her fists, the man seemed to only stare at her in sadness. The scene faded into darkness as the featureless man got up and helped the woman up, she seemed to break down in his arms and cry away clearing her face of tears.

Glimpses of silver flashed in the darkenss, revealing that Jovaani was standing upon a desert dune, he saw himself fighting daggers drawn against a green haired youth. He too, was armed with daggers and his neck seemed leashed with the end held by a girl who seemed to exude nobility. Jovaani noticed he too was leashed, but he could not see the hand that held his own. The two men circled like wolf’s waiting to strike, the youth leapt forward and Jovaani saw himself twist out of the way. He saw a lunge turn into a parry, a feint become an actual strike. He saw his death dance used in full against the green haired youth as the latter too tried to do the same to him.

He saw the leashes on each neck tighten and slacken as the fight drew on, the one around his neck relaxed away until it disappeared completely, but the one around the youth tightened to the point where he could barely move. There Jovaani saw himself leap forward and mercilessly cut the down the restrained youth, the boy fell and the girl burst into tears catching the body before screaming in hate at Jovaani’s self.

He saw the noble girl appear again, this time with no leash. She was alone, running from shadows that leapt and chased after. Soon the young girl was left standing at the end of an alleyway, trapped and surrounded by the shadow. The shadow gave shape to a man, his hair a dark blonde and his eyes a light blue. With a grin the man approached the noble girl.

Here the scene seemed to shift and split, in one scene, the young man grabbed the girl and ran off into the night, girl in tow. In the second, the man went to grab her as a flash of silver appeared. The young man fell bleeding from the throat as the green haired youth approached the girl concern upon his face before he led her away from the now cooling corpse. In the last scene, the man went to grab her when shots rang out and the man fell dead, out of the shadows appeared a figure obscured by light. The girl looked shock at who had come to help, and as she moved towards the figure when the gun appeared and a shot rang out as the noble girl tumbled to the ground a bullet in her head. Here the figure looked grim as he walked away from the two corpses that lay in the alleyway.

He saw himself and Naz in Kaeheer standing cautiously in a dungeon beneath a tomb. A figure emerged, clad in shadow and speaking soft whispers of information in the shape of runes upon paper. Naz leapt for the paper and he for the figure, both soon reached their target. Jovaani however, had killed the figure before he finished speaking and Naz simply stared in anger at his actions. She charged her gauntlets and grabbed a knife from her belt as she leaped at him, her face twisted into a furious cry of anger. The scene faded as Jovaani drew his own daggers in defense at Naz’s incoming attack.

The sight of a majestic tomb, perhaps that of an ancient king, one that promised uncountable riches to the tomb raider that had entered, greeted Jovaani’s eyes next. But before the coffin of this tomb a fight had erupted. Jovaani saw a gunslinger with hair as red a fresh blood fire away at a snow woman of blood dress, while a queen in dragon armor fought tooth and nail against a man in dark armor who shined like the sun itself. More were fighting, many more; but Jovaani was distracted by the appearance of the featureless man, the phantom, who walked up to the tomb: mortally wounded. Jovaani could tell that the man had little life left. The man leaned upon the tomb as he took out a vial. His whole body shook as the man began to laugh. But what a bone-chilling laugh it was, the fight below stopped as the several stared in horror at the featureless man as he proclaimed, ”Let the sands of time forget this man, may he disappear into the void forever.” The man proceeded to drop the vial as several of the fighters below began to rush to the tomb. The vial broke against the ground and an explosion rang out and Jovaani saw nothing more.

He saw himself now an older man in an abandoned house in the Wastelands, his house he faintly realized, but it seemed worn down from much disuse. He saw dark figures emerge from the shadows, blades in their hands, their intent clear. Jovaani struck figure after figure down but soon enough there were too many and his wounds too great. Jovaani saw himself fall, mortally wounded as two eyes appeared in the darkness, one the noble girl’s and the other…Naz’s both now women of some age.

With a start Jovaani woke up, sweating. ”Now that, was a weird dream.“ he muttered to himself. He quietly gathered his things as he attempted to shake off the foreboding sense of dread he was feeling. After all, it was only a dream, right?

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Jovaani, had just retrieved his things from his hiding spot, the small hole in the lower half of a tree some 3 feet off the ground, when he heard a noise. Jovaani whirled around in the direction of the noise one of his knives in his hand ready to fly. The only thing that stayed his hand was that he realized that it had been a voice, Naz’s voice, and it had asked a question. He quickly put the knife away has Naz appeared from the undergrowth her acquisitions from the hunt safe at hand.

Jovaani shook his head, trying to get rid of the cobwebs. The dream had made him jumpy, especially the last part: his own death at the hands of a large number of assassins. He looked back at Naz, wondering how life could possibly harden her to the point of entering its seedy underbelly to hire hardened killers to pursue his death. Most likely it was all a dream, one brought about by the sleep deprivation and sheer exhaustion. However, he needed to stop thinking about it and continue his objective of gaining Naz’s trust so that he could hunt down the Shadow Informant.

Directing his attention to Naz he said, “I’m fine, just had a bit of a bad dream.” Jovaani started walking into the middle of the clearing before turning around, ”Well have you thought about those knife fighting questions I asked you? Or have you been too busy with hunting?”

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Jovaani was surprised; he had assumed she knew a little about knife fighting since the ones she was carrying were quite a well-made blades. ”So you know nothing at all about knives, those are pretty fancy knives for a total novice.” Jovaani sighed as he walked over to a tree stump and sat down. ”Well then, that just means I need to start from the very basics.”

”Now let me make something very clear: knives are weapons, they are tools that are designed and used to kill." Jovaani drew his knife, showing it to Naz, letting the light of the sun glint off it. "When you draw a knife, you are making a statement that you are going to kill or at least wound whoever it is you are fighting.

"Now even before you fight there are a few things you need to know about your weapon, make sure it fits comfortably in your right and left hand," Here Jovaani flipped the knife between his hands gripping it in each firmly, showing how the hilt was comfortable. "The damage done by a knife is not due to arm strength but position of the blade." Jovaani flipped through some classic position, mimicking a neck stab, a stomach slice, and a rib stab. "Sometimes, it will be your off-hand that has the better position. So you have to improvise and adapt to the situation to allow you to fight effectively.”
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