A worried Dracon pushed his open hand toward his arsenal, still to no avail. His eyes panned across the adversaries: the first pounded a large cudgel into the opposite hand, the second whetted two wicked daggers against one another, the third gripped a huge battle axe with a dripping head, and the last revved up a chain saw.
"Oh, come on!" complained Dracon.
"I think we can take them," the monk told, rising to the ranks with the monsters with blade ready. One hand left the hilt to beckon the brigands to the fight. Eagle whirl about, loosing a war cry as he advanced upon the foes, which prompted a flimsy dagger to be thrown and knock the sword from Eagle's hand and into a nearby tree.
"Ah!" Dracon yelped in a sudden panic. "I thought you were a monk? Where are your monk-reflexes?"
"Well, I am not a very good monk," he further informed, rushing to the tree to retrieve his weapon. "Why do you think I am using a sword?"
"Yeah, I was wondering about that," muttered Dracon. "Still, what kind of swordsman would let that happen?"
"I am not a very good one-of-those, either," admitted Eagle, who now braced both feet against the trunk to pull free his deeply embedded blade. Luckily for the group, the bandits had been busy being induced into a fit of laughter at their opponents' expense.
"Then... why even bother with the sword?" is what Dracon said. What he thought was "C'mon, curse. Breaknow breaknow breaknow breaknow I'mdoomed!"
"Because..." started Eagle, who managed to tug free the heavy blade which soon crashed to the ground. He looked up to his still distracted targets and once more clumsily spun about, this time cleaving it through all four brigands. Quickly they hushed, with wide eyes and shocked expressions but no apparent harm.
Then, the head of the axe plummeted to the trail with a solid thus. So too did the knife blades and even the armor on their backs. Eagle, now turned about to Dracon once more, sheathed his mystic blade.
"It is the magical blade Metalkeen; it will cut effortlessly through iron and only iron."
"Oh, I get it now," Dracon, quite pleased with himself, stated. "I was wondering how this would all work with the non-lethality of monks."
The non-le-what now?" asked Eagle, a foreground to two rampant familiars, gnashing and lopping the heads off brigands. Dracon raised a disproving eyebrow to his new ally. "What? I told you that I wasn't a very good monk," he reminded while being splattered by the impaling of an unarmored foe.
Then the student's attentions seemed to be elsewhere. No sooner than he could raise his hand, it had caught an arrow. The group sought shelter on the opposite side of some close trees.
"We cannot waste any more time with these guys," Dracon screamed over the whizzing of arrows. "There are too many of them! We need to find the Pointy Purple Wizard!"
"That's just the problem; we'll never make it out with them shooting at us like thi-- did you just use the phrase 'Pointy Purple Wizard'?" Eagle stared blankly at Dracon for a spell before shaking off the confusion brought on by his words. "Anyway, if these guys are his troops, we should be able to find out more about the Pointy Wizar-- ah! Now you've got me saying it!"
"How many of them are there?"
"What?" asked Eagle. "How should I know?"
"Well, can't you sense them or something? You're supposed to be psychic, right?"
"What? No! I'm a monk-in-training, remember?"
"I could swear that you were psychic the first time we met," Dracon yelled back over the storm of arrows. "And a Lieutenant of some sort."
"What are you talking about? We have never met before."
"Sure we did. Remember? It was a year or two ago when I recovered my familiar, and I don't want him stolen again... I could swear that I went over this."
"Dracon, please," retorted Eagle. "I think I would remember that, what with being psychic and all." Now was Dracon's turn to stare blankly and quite confused.
Eagle's head peeked out of cover long enough to attract a thick hail of arrows.
"They are still there, and I still cannot see them," told Eagle. "How are we supposed to fight what we cannot see?"
"Or reach what with our lack of ranged weapons and all..." quipped Dracon. The monk gave no heed to these words; he slid back on his tree, pounding his head to get the ideas moving. An attention-wanting cough came from overhead. He tilted his head upward to meet that of a weasel, clung to the trunk with its scythe-like claws. Its nose twitched in anticipation.
"Oh, right... you guys." Eagle commanded his Kamaitachi away. It slinked up into the tree-tops and was never seen again.
Across the trail, a mess of leaves and twigs began to litter the air, but then whole branches descended into view and onto the enemy archers. Eagle came bursting out of hiding, atop his Monoceros, while Dracon and Stanley tried to keep up, gassing those that the rider overlooked. The archers tried to find their way in the clouds of leaves, hearing their foes' movements and fellows' cries but still unable to see. It did not matter, though; Fox had cut their bowstrings in the foliage fog.
One particular archer stumbled about among the dizzying descent of leaves. He soon found himself hoisted up by his tunic's collar by something very sharp. A friendly whirlwind allowed the archer to see Eagle on his legendary steed, which glared up at the enemy from beneath its horn.
"Where is he," Eagle demanded more than asked.
"Wh-who?" stuttered the archer in reply.
"Your boss," Dracon answered, "the Pointy Wizard!" Utter confusion beset the archer.
"What? Our boss? I thought you were working with him?"
"No," answered Eagle with a softening expression. With a subtle gesture, Asfaloth was commanded to lower the hostage, at which time the monk explained, "We are seeking the Purple Wizard as he has placed a curse on my friend over here." The archer, once more standing and rubbing his sore neck, shot a surprised look over to Dracon.
"You mean that guy right there?" he asked, seeming quite disbelieving.
"Because my real boss is the master of a thief guild. We caught him near our secret hideout... and that is when he put a curse on The Boss..." told the archer, who became increasing quiet as his story progressed.
"O-kaaay..." Dracon stated after a long silence. "So maybe we could work together. Y'know, compare notes."
"Well," the brigand went on, "I don't think the curse worked quite right..."
"... on me... or on your boss?"
Later, Dracon and Eagle are allowed into the secret hideout. Although it was in none of their interest, the two were made honorary members as they shared a common foe -- the Pointy Purple Wizard (which Dracon got all of the thieves saying, too). As hidden as the base's location was, The Boss's quarters were kept at an even more secretive location, hidden from even most guild members.
And when they met him, they found out why.
"Is that guy's head a -?"
OOC[Yeah, I know this Eagle is not supposed to be the same character LieautenantEagle added to The Search, and I like it better this way since a monk is loads cooler than a mentalist, but since they are in the same continuity, I felt it had to be dealt with in some way.]
So no, this Eagle is not psychic and they have indeed never met before. Think no more on that bit than you would the chain saw.