Azae - A World At War - Chapter 1A: Blood On My Hands, Dirt On My Boots

[King Ad Rock]

Oh, baby, baby, it's a wild world, it's hard to get by just upon a smile, girl…


 The ales, wines, and meads were flowing. Drinking glasses chimed together as their alcoholic contents spilled over their rims, splashing on the old wooden countertops. The sounds of the lyres, lutes, and vielles strummed on all night due to a certain patron continuously tossing gold coin in the tavern band’s direction without fail.


The young, undeniably intoxicated man that, just a few hours before had tossed a bag of gold coin on the barkeep’s counter, now had each arm around his fellow peers and well-wisher’s necks, and was bellowing out a chant-y drinking song alongside a cacophony of drunken voices. Dancing of the wait staff to the music was not only asked for, but also almost comically demanded. The noises of joy and laughter echoed out of the old, wooden building, and off into the deep and dense Libertian rain forests. The egregiously loud singer that had bought the whole tavern several rounds was Ziek Sidane.


He had stumbled into this minor fortune, which was quickly dwindling, by slaying a Jungle Tral-el that was giving builders of the new Libertian city, Melsias a bit of trouble. This particular scaled beast was not massive like its ancient brethren, but it had speed and maneuverability that Ziek had not seen before in the gigantic creatures. The jovial drinker was no stranger to hunting the ferocious and fanged monstrosities of Zeldwa. Ziek spent the better part of the afternoon tracking it down to its nest deep within the Swazi Forest. The Tral-el put up a commendable struggle and fight, but ultimately was taken down and decapitated by the former mercenary. After dragging the enormous, severed head behind his back for several miles, he brought it to the leader of the city building crew. Ziek collected his rather hefty remuneration and made a straightaway for the local tavern in Jakka’s Crossing, Bergen’s Drink-Hole.

Jakka's Crossing, Bergen's Drinkhole
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No sooner did the burlap bag of Libertian currency hit the counter top did the festivities start with a sudden, thunderous strum of music and clanging of glasses. The local and usual patrons of the shady establishment gave each other half-smiles of missing teeth and wide-bloodshot eyes as filled to the brim glasses were slid down the counters and tables their ways. The drinks were flowing But all good nights and times of celebration and enjoyment must slowly ebb and come to an end. The tavern dwellers soon began to decline the paid for drinks, and chose to stumble their way back to their huts and ancient homes built into the trees of the forest. The band was now tired out from continuous strumming and their voices horse from the endless singing. They were packing their instruments and belongings and were now heading to the front door, pockets ringing with the sound of gold coins. Tavern-maids now had brooms in hand as they wearily swept broken glass and tracked dirt. The shorter and much more attractive of the two slowly closed her eyes and rested her flush cheek against her broom handle until a raucous holler jolted her from the momentary slumber.


There was only one person left that the tavern owner, Bergen Sandwater was having trouble getting to leave, and that person was currently shouting and swaying in the front doorway, using his large spear as a means from falling flat on his face. Ziek was still not ready to call it a night:


"Alright Ziek, We want to thank you so much for everything, but we’re goin’ to be closin’ up shop now. It's so much later than we usually close so-" Bergen could not get another word out before a sticky, ale-covered hand grabbed him by the shoulder and alcoholic soaked breath sailed from Ziek’s mouth, watering the elder Nomasdae tavern owner’s eyes.


“Hey-hey-h-hey… Calm down, calm down Bergen, my friend.” Ziek let out a slurred hush and put several of his dirty fingers lazily on Bergen’s lips, flicking his bottom lip, much to Bergen’s disgust and dismay. “I gotsch to ask- Oh, your lips are so soft *Hic* -I gotsch to ask you somethin’…” Ziek trailed off as his half opened, blood-shot emerald eyes were now looking past Bergen, back into the Drink-Hole, eyeing the two young Nomasdae tavern-maids who were trying to tiredly clean up his mess.


Bergen made a delicate attempt at removing Ziek’s hand from his person, only to have Ziek strangely put his palm directly on the man’s wrinkled forehead in a patting motion. A large, drunken smile crept across the boozed merc’s chapped lips:


“Ziek, please, it is almost dawn-“ Bergen's implorations were cut off and ignored yet again.


 “I gotsch to ask.” Ziek’s words were slurred and almost incoherent. “Those bar-maids... *Hic*" He paused for a moment and appeared to swallow something before continuing. “You ever, after closin’ up the place, and you close and you’re a dirty-dog and you say ‘I’m the bossh’ and then you grab them from behind!” Ziek was rambling and incomprehensible.


He furrowed his brow, realizing his words were not making a lick of sense. The copious amounts of liquor he had consumed the hours before were fuzzing his thoughts and twisting his speech. His hand gestured to the female workers:


“You and them…?” 


“Ziek-" The barkeep looked concerned about what was to come next.


“I-I mean, Holy Azae be damned, look-look at that tall one.” Ziek adjusted his weight against his spear in his off hand as he let out an exaggeratedly exasperated “Woo” at the end of his mumbled sentence.


Bergen stopped trying to interrupt his tipsy loiterer for a moment and looked confusingly back towards his employees. The taller barmaid, who was now wiping down the counters and table, looked up from her cleaning and grinned a toothless, haggard smile:


“Ziek, listen-" Bergen attempted his fruitless protests again.


“If I was you, you don’t know how you’d get any-any *Hic * of my work done. Just be lookin’ at em’. Starin’ at em’…” Ziek trailed off, as he appeared to fall asleep for several seconds, then shook himself awake:


 “Goddamn hands would wander!” He shouted out of nowhere, acting as if he had never dozed off.


 “And that lil’ one over there, right over there. Ohh- " Ziek pointed again but his praises for the women were interrupted by an unexpected belch.


“She looks like she’s played a few games of ‘hide the pickle’ in her day, if you know what I’m saying.” Ziek had an ear-to-ear grin as he looked past Bergen again into the tavern. “And I’m willin’ tah bet gold to assholes that she’s undefeated too.” Bergen spoke once more while Ziek ignored him and continued his inebriated ramblings.


“Ziek, those are my daughters” Bergen put emphasis on the last word. He was almost pleading with this last sentence.


During this revelation Ziek was making a parting motion with both of his hands in the air and sticking his tongue out in a crude manner; but upon hearing these words and allowing them to digest in his booze-soaked mind, Ziek froze and grimaced at his host:


 “W-w-wait-wait. What?”Ziek stuttered and choked out. It appeared as if he refused to accept or process the information that was just given to him.


 “Maybe he didn’t hear me.” This was a ridiculous thought, of course, considering Ziek had nearly shouted every word that had come out of his mouth for the past few hours.


“You are talkin’ about my daughters, Ziek.” Bergen’s face showed exhaustion more than any type of anger. At this point, all the old man wanted to do was lock the front door to his business and get home to his awaiting wife.


 “Oh.” Ziek said lifelessly, followed by a much more emphatic, “Ohhh!” suggesting the idea was just occurring to him.


 The wobbly drunk let out a sudden and sharp hiss of air as he gritted his teeth and winced:


 “Shit, whoops...” Ziek's voice tapered off. "I'msshure she's doesn't even like pickles, and never hid any in her life, I bet *Hic*" Ziek, without intention, let one last hiccup escape to punctuate his poor attempt at an apology.


Bergen sighed quietly to himself and patted Ziek on the shoulder, almost knocking the drunkard off balance:


“Go get some sleep.” He said with an amazing amount of patience.


 "But wait!" Ziek blurted out with urgency. Bergen paused in the doorway, the only light now in the city shining from behind him, and stared back at Ziek, "Yes?"


 "Let me get one for the road you goddamn handsome sonofabitch." Ziek said with enthusiasm. It was the most coherent and straightforward thing he had phonated all night.


Immediately Bergen thought back to just an hour before when Ziek had been sick all over their floor, emptying several ale glasses full of his stomach contents:


 "Goodnight Ziek." With that uttered, the tavern owner moved with haste to behind the threshold of his establishment and swung the door close, taking the light from Ziek’s person with it. Ziek stood there, not moving for several seconds, his nose just a few inches from the cracked, wooden door as he could heard a heavy lock being put into place. Finally, he turned and strolled over to the forest while speaking out loud to no one in particular,


“Motherfucker..." Ziek muttered.


He had hoped he had consumed enough of the God's nectar to bring the sweet slumber that escaped him more often than not. The drinking was always an attempt, never a guarantee, at sleeping. It didn’t hurt to be drunk either. The familiar urgent sensation in his lower regions was both the reason for his leisurely stroll and getting worse by the passing second.


The bright stars in the Libertian night sky were beginning to fade as the morning hours were creeping in. The cool night breeze that was blowing Ziek’s medium length, messy, black hair would be dying down soon and giving way to a hot and humid jungle day.


Down the main dirt road of Jakka's crossing was the inn that Ziek had rented a room in for the past few days, but before returning for attempted repose, he needed to handle nature's calling. The forest was eerily silent for these twilight hours. Had Ziek not been in an alcoholic stupor, or in a rush to empty his bladder, he might have taken notice. After making it several yards into the forest brush for a bit of privacy, Ziek found an appropriate tree and leaned his right hand out against it to steady his wavering balance as he started to relieve himself. The feeling of relief was close to euphoric as he involuntarily let out a small moan into the night. Looking up, he noticed that what looked to be storm clouds were beginning to form and gather in the sky above the heart of the Swazi. A faint noise began to emanate from elsewhere in the forest. Some kind of buzzing sound was increasing in decibels from further within. Still very under the influence and naturally curious, Ziek finished up, grabbed his spear, and stumbled deeper into the rain forest. He followed the strange noise for several minutes as the sinister looking clouds continued to congregate and grow overhead. Ziek stared as the clouds smashed together and blotted out the setting moon:


 "What the hell...?" he muttered out loud to himself as he stuck out his empty hand, waiting for rain.


A crash of blue lightning struck the forest floor with enough ferocity to gouge out a small crater just a few feet away from Ziek. The thunder roared like the sound of some hellish beast. He jumped back, shielding his eyes from the intense light. Heavy rain crashed down instantly from the ominous storm clouds and with force. That's when he saw it, the source of the hum. A glowing black orb with crimson tendrils lashing out with a chaotic vengeance, only to come crashing back into the orb, descended from the storm clouds high above head. Ziek watched as the cycle renewed, pulling everything back to itself as it tore itself apart once more. He could not pull his gaze from this otherworldly thing as it hung there by an unknown force. This terrifying scene filled him with fear, but for some inexplicable reason, he could feel a deep primal rage also growing from within inside of him.


Not being able to move his eyes away, he watched as the raven black and blood red ball of energy began to shape itself into what appeared to be the form of a man. A skeletal frame formed in the swirling blackness. Ziek could feel his legs begin to tremble, but they refused to take him anywhere as this unholy sight unraveled before him. The being that was assembling would tower over even the most tremendously sized T’Odis. This entity, whatever it was, stood at an immense eight feet tall. Bone and sinew materialized from the dark energy, creating massive arms and legs. The vegetation underneath this monster burned and singed from the creation.


A face, demonic in its appearance, wrestled itself to life from mass that was to be its head. Skin, dead grey in its color, stretched and grew over the muscles that were also coming into creation:


“What the hell was in that ale? Liquor doesn’t turn? Does it...? A bald headed, beast-man now existed, crouched and nude, with swirls of red energy dissipating around him.


The monstrosity brought his chin up to meet Ziek's eyes with his own inhuman snake-like pupils. It spoke, seeming to struggle with the words, with a voice Ziek could not have imagined,even in his worst nightmares. The words were just garbled noises in their first attempts, but eventually the beast’s lips formed the word in way that he could understand. “Fear.” One word is all it spoke, perfectly summing up Ziek’s current feelings.


Without realizing it, Ziek had started to hold his breath in awe of what had transpired before him. The hulking creature as if mocking him, inhaled and exhaled heavily while never breaking his gaze. The burning in the young man's lungs reminded him to finally gasp a mouthful of air. Oxygen seemingly being all he needed to break his trance-like state, he shook his head and snapped out of it, although the fear was still present in his mind.


Hearing the tremble in his own voice, Ziek spoke, "W-what the fuck is that…?” The frightened man was speaking to himself but the giant showed signs of understanding.


The beast-man paused before responding, his eyes darting back and forth, likely searching for the words in his mind. His mouth fought to form the words with a fiendish smile, the monstrous voice that escaped from it sounding like several men speaking at once creating a devilish echo. “Garnerge." It bellowed out.


It's enunciation of it's own name brought a sickening smile to its face. The otherworldly abomination that now had a name examined Ziek, letting his almost glowing eyes fall upon the spear that was tight in the man’s grip. A smile spread across Garnerge's face, pulling his dark lips from ear to ear, exposing inhuman fangs jutting from his bottom row of teeth:


 "Creature, are you a warrior on this rock?" The words were coming more naturally to him now, although they had not lost their supernatural tone. "Come, help me test out this new body... If you manage to amuse me, I will make your death quick and painless" Showing no signs of letting his colossal frame slow him down, this bestial mammoth sprinted forth, raising his massive fists high above his head.


Instinct and over a decade of training kicked in as... Ziek turned tale and fled for his life. The jolly intoxication that Ziek had worked hard to achieve was now forgotten as adrenaline began coursing through his veins and terror steadily tried to invade his conscious. Darting through the trees of the forests with nimble yet still drunken speed. The thunderous sounds of his pursuer’s footsteps and the piercing cracking of trees being ripped apart and torn from the ground, echoed through the closing, silent night and drove him to move faster. Deep, guttural laughter stormed out from what sounded to be just feet behind him:


 “Holy fucking Azae, is this how I'm going to die? Some naked giant is going to appear out of thin air and rip me apart? This has got to be a fucking nightmare.” Ziek could swear he could feel hot breath on the back of his neck.


Pumping his legs to pick up speed, his eyes narrowed in on a branch. He listened intently to the explosive stomps of Garnerge and tried to time his jump perfectly. Using a stone erupting and bulging from the earth for leverage, he leaped and reached with his left hand. His palm, rough and calloused, gripped the branch, and using the momentum from the vault, swung his body up into the air. He gripped the tree's appendage tightly, stalling himself upside down for split second. Ziek watched the mass of naked beast whirl by in a blur.


Releasing his grasp, he fell gracefully to the ground, his feet now reversing and taking him into the opposite direction as fast as they possibly could. 


"A quick and clever one you are!" Garnerge roared.


With unrealistic agility for a being of his size, Garnerge came to a skidding halt and barreled through in the converse direction also, right behind Ziek, knocking over the trees in his paths as if they were mere sticks.


That's when the desperate young man saw his chance at survival. In his path, in the middle of the upcoming clearing to the forest was a corl, a one thousand year old, tremendously tall tree found in the Swazi. Ziek ran full-speed at the tree, raising his spear and cocking it into throwing position. He let the weapon go with prodigious force and watched it soar through the air, planting itself deep into the trunk of the tree several feet higher than his head. Using it as a spring of sorts, he leaped on top of it and sprung himself far up the base of the tree, grabbing the nearest thick branch. Wasting no time, he wrapped his calves firmly around the branch, dipped himself upside-down, and with quick and forceful pull, plucked his weapon from the corl's bark. Pulling himself back up, he positioned himself in a sturdy stance, and watched as Garnerge exploded into the clearing.


Ziek’s muscles twitched with anticipation while his eyes scoped in intently. Coming to a stop and watching Ziek cautiously, Garnerge spoke:


 "Are all the beings of this rock as cowardly as this one? Come and show me what this pathetic planet has got!" his voice was full of barbaric rage and fury.


 "Here ya' go ya’ ugly bowl of shit!" was Ziek's response as he launched his spear from his perch on the tree with deadly accuracy; and watched as, within a split second, the gorgeously crafted, serrated steel tip plunged deep into the right eye of the taunting brute. The inhuman shriek of pain that escaped Garnerge’s jaws would have been music to Ziek's ears, had it not been so loud that it felt like his eardrums were about to burst. The force from the impact of the projectile had caused Garnerge’s enormous head to cock back suddenly, as he let out the piercing cry into the Libertian forest's sky. Ziek's dirt covered hands involuntarily flung to his ears, his fingers plugging them up.


He was still convinced that this had to be a drinking induced nightmare.


"Now that’s a goddamn bull's-eye." He chuckled nervously at his own terrible joke, only to have his laugh cut off by a much louder one from the forest floor.


The monstrous screams of pain screeching out from the giant had died out to become nightmarish guffaws. Any feelings of triumph quickly disappeared as fear and panic immediately washed over Ziek once again. He was frozen with terror, unable to move a muscle, as he watched Garnerge perform another feat only read about in books of fiction.


The giant slowly brought his head back to a prone position, his good eye, a shining, golden orb in the moonlight, fell upon the crouched warrior while his mocking laugh became almost hysterical. The spear was lodged deep within his right eye-socket with a grey blood-like liquid oozing from the wound. Garnerge lifted his tree-trunk sized arm and brought his gargantuan hand to his face, wrapping his fingers tightly around the weapon jutting from his head. With an effortless tug, Garnerge pulled it from his eye-socket, creating a revolting and wet sound. The entire right side of his face was decimated, his eye now a gaping hole. Despite the spear being longer than Ziek was tall, it looked humorously like a child's toy in Garnerge's grasp. Ziek could only flinch at the sound of his beloved weapon cracking in two as the otherworldly being clenched his fist, although it's loss was the least of his problems at the moment.


 "You thought you had me there, didn't you creature?" Another fiendish smile crept across Garnerge’s black lips.


Ziek refused to believe what he saw next. The crater on the right side of Garnerge's face started to reform from nothing. The hole in his skull almost seemed to give birth to a new eye. Skin and muscle appeared, pulsating, and multiplied across his cheek. In nearly an instant, the monster's face was now entirely unharmed.


 “Please, let this be a dream...” Ziek wasn’t sure who or what he was pleading with in his mind, probably just himself. The words echoed over and over again in his skull.


 "I think it is my turn."Garnerge howled while storming forward at improbable speed.


There was no time for Ziek to react as the roaring giant's formidable arms stretched out, and his oversized hands slammed close around the corl's trunk. His fingers splintered the bark and penetrated deep into the wood. Ziek braced himself against the tree and watched his attacker in confusion. Garnerge squatted, and with horrific strength, ripped the corl from its roots. Large clumps of jungle earth fell by his sides from the gnarly root system In a panicky, high-pitched, yet still defiantly sarcastic tone Ziek yelled down the tree:


 "Hey! Cut that shit out!"


 Ignoring his prey's laughable plea, Garnerge wailed "I see no wings on you creature, but let us see if you can fly!"


 With all his might, the being known as Garnerge flung the ancient tree high up into the heavens. The wind blew around Ziek's greasy and unwashed hair, while he held on for dear life to his wingless ride as it spun wildly through the air.


What a sight it must of been, had anyone been in the area, to glance up and see this several stories tall tree move through the night with someone riding upon it like some kind of ship. The tree was only airborne for seconds, yet it felt like minutes to Ziek as dizziness and nausea set in. Everything was a green whirling motion blur. He could feel himself begin to lose consciousness as well as his grip to his out-of-control vessel. It was at this moment that he had come to the conclusion that he was not awake. That this was all a terrible, terrible dream and he has indeed been sleeping peacefully this entire time. It was only a matter of time now:


 “Wonderful. I hope I wake up soon.” 


The tree and Ziek's body plummeted back towards Azae at an alarming speed, like two crashing meteors.

 

[noremac]

“... and tha mermaid wifth tha sheaweed hair


Hap’ly took my pearly necklace!”


A group of sailors and other intoxicated men finished their sea shanty. One sailor climbed atop a table and chugged a full pitcher of dark brown ale. The tavern cheered and egged him on. The grinning seaman wiped foam from his mouth and took an unsteady bow that toppled the table, sending beer and glass flying. The crowd’s laughter burst anew at both the sailor who had knocked himself out on the floor and at those who had been soaked with beer.


Adam guffawed from a corner table as he watched yet another one of his men pass out drunk. The crew deserved this night of debauchery. Today they had delivered all their cargo to the Melsias builders. The trip had been financially risky, with iron oxide from Mt. Zaldur, sand from Indoria, and limestone from Mt. Vagar. They had made it, and the payoff was very good. Two ship holds were now stuffed with Pashush, a potent plant that many in Libertia grew and smoked. Pash was illegal in Roadilia and fetched a high price on the black market. Now crew, and captain alike, were enjoying some much needed shore rest.


“Nef, why don’t you wake Silas, and the other passed out fools, and herd them back to camp.” Adam told the second mate, who was sitting at the table with the captain, quarter master, and carpenter. “If I hear of any trouble in the morning, you’ll be the one to answer for it.”


“Yes, sir.” Nef, a large T’Odis man, finished his drink before starting to wake the drunken sailors who were passed out under tables or in their chairs.


“How bouts Issshhhave anofer drink?” Silas slured as Nef lifted him to his feet by the collar.


“No,” Came the curt answer as Nef threw Silas out the door.


The best part about this night was that Adam’s crew had not paid for anything. Some tral-el hunter, who seemed to be in an increasingly good mood, scored big and had been buying rounds for the Drink-Hole all night.


The tral-el hunter was on the other side of the room, partying it up with some of the crew and locals. It appeared that a fight was breaking out between two of Adam’s men, one of them soaked with beer. The dry one punched the other in the face sending him stumbling over the fallen table. Nef interceded then, grabbing one man by the head and the other by the leg, he dragged them out of the Hole. The crowd cheered.


“Do you plan on drinkin all night, cap’n?” asked the carpenter, a Libertian man. The bar was beginning to empty. Only the hardiest of drinkers now remained. Adam, and his officers had taken it easy, however. A few lucid minds were always needed on such outings.


“Nah, we’ll stay as long as the lizard hunter is still drinking. Then we’ll help relieve him of the rest of his gold. Someone that pissed could get in trouble carry such heavy coin purse at night.” Adam hid his wicked grin by taking a sip of beer. The carpenter smiled, but the quarter master remained silent and grim, for he had little to say when he was not giving orders.


A few hours later, Adam had to compliment the hunter on his endurance, the free spending patron began emptying his stomach onto the floor. “It’s time to go,” the barkeep was beginning to kick people out. “Grayson, round up the drunker men and head back to camp.” The quarter master nodded and got to it, “Izem, take the rest and meet me around back.”


Adam, Izem, and two slightly less drunk sailors stood besides a window behind the tavern. One of them, a Libertian, brought out a tinder box. After some drunken fumbling he managed to spark up a shush. Another sailor, an Indorian who had taken liking to the herb, brought out another spliff, wrapped in a tobacco leaf, and lit it off the Libertian’s. Through the window, the four men listened to the conversation as they smoked.


“I wouldn’t mind taking home one of those daughters myself.” Said the Nomasdae, looking at the captain.


“Quiet, Mos! And put those things out, it’s time to go. Iz, keep an eye on this Ziek character, we’ll be further behind.” Izem knew how to travel quietly through these forests.


As Adam walked down the forest pass he was surprised how faded he was. The other two men stumbled slightly. Adam kept an ear open, listening for danger and the bird noises that he followed. Izem’s calls seemed out of place in the quiet forest, but Adam did not wonder why. A parrot squawk to the left stopped the trio. Izem slinked out of the bushes and whispered to Adam, “He stopped to take a piss, then followed that buzzing sound into the woods.” Adam could here Ziek crashing through the woods and just then noticed the buzzing. It was getting louder.


With a great crack of thunder, a lightning bolt struck the forest, though the skies were clear. A tumult of breaking branches and yells came from Ziek’s direction. The crashing moved away from Adam’s group, none of which had any notion to follow. A terrible shriek of pain came from the forest that made the pirates to step away, covering their ears.


“What the fuck was that?” Adam asked, knowing he could receive no answer. There came a tremendous cracking of branches and a whole tree shot into the sky. “Let’s check that out.” Adam did not want to mess with whatever threw it. Izem led the way as the four men fled the area.


At the crash site they found the tral-el hunter to be still alive. Certainly, the man was passed out and fucked up but he was still breathing. The captain started giving orders. “Mos, get the gold bag. Rat, pour some of that fire water you drink down this poor bastard’s throat then get back to camp with Mos. Iz, give him a few slaps. I want to find out what happened.”

 

[Lakita]

Maerwynn T'Iiosha
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Status: Currently in front of the T'Odis Gate with @Dirk Diggler (Vance D'Enishora)


It had stopped snowing a while ago.


"It's the moon, Maerwynn. See how it shines?"


As the trading caravans trudged along the white path, Maerwynn T'Iiosha couldn't help but remember the old stories her father used to tell her.


"Squinting girl. Moon and Sun aren't that different, are they?"


"Good. You'll always be able to find your way home. Just follow the moon."


She sighed, letting a small cloud dissipate out her mouth. The jostling of the wagon kept her awake, but even if the ride had been smoother - sleep was a doubtful dream. Now that she was out of the woods, the world it seemed, was covered in white.


"I am on the moon, Father."


"Whudderya talkin' bout ova dere?"


Had she been so loud? Maerwynn pulled her furs closer to her body before grunting out a curt, "Nothing". That's right, she wasn't on the moon. The caravan had picked her up just on the outskirts of the forest - she'd had to trade her own-made snowshoes to earn passage. There were three other merchants - at least she assumed they were merchants - shacked up with her for the ride, not including their driver. A small oil lamp burned merrily, illuminating small pockets of light inside. Packed in-between furs, sacks, crates, and people, Maerwynn felt that it was as warm and as comfortable as a late-night caravan ride could be. All in all, it totaled to five people to share the night with. Five people and two horses to make it out of the country before the next snow-storm hit.


She glanced back inside to see the speaker pack in tobacco in his pipe with his thumb. A flick and spark of a match later, the acrid smell of smoke filled the air and made Maerwynn sneeze.


"Whurya frum, anyhow? Tis'aint everyday we gots a little gel all by her lonesome."


"I am not a little girl."


"Aye. Eyecanna see dat, cannasee dat." He gestured at her hidden figure.


"Lil' missus all grown up unda dose furs, eyebetcha." He took another puff on his pipe before chortling.


"Aim jess jokin', Ma'am, jess jokin'. Ugly as sin, Ol' Pyper may be, but ne'er leddit anything be sed oyf my honawh."


Maerwynn raised her brows slightly but put the issue to rest. Living in the North, especially in the Frozen Forest, didn't exactly raise men with the chivalrous attitudes she so often read of in her books. No, the Northerners were crude, hearty, and rough around the edges - fun for a quick tumble perhaps, but not exactly court material.


Not that she had ever been to one, of course. Besides the fairy-tales her father had bought her- she must've read the same one over a hundred times - Maerwynn had spent most of her life stuck in the woods. The concept of leaving, admittedly, filled her with as much dread as it did anticipation.


"It does look like the moon..."


Having had enough of the silent hills, she poked her head back into the warmth of the caravan. It was a rickety old thing and it smelt too much of the goods it carried. In this case, the slightly rancid smell of deer hide filled her nostrils.


"Cawld nigh', eesn't et? Yesure dat blanket's enuf?"


Well, deer hide and the tobacco of her new-found companion. Reminded of the rest of the "Caravanners", Maerwynn turned around to observe them. Besides "Ol' Pyper", who was as stout as a beer barrel, the rest of them seemed fairly ordinary. Dressed with fur cloaks and with wind chapped faces, these were definitely the merchants that she was associated with. A slight movement in the back suddenly alerted her to a sixth companion - one whom she had missed among all the goods and the dark.


He was tall for a man, even sitting down. Maerwynn estimated him to be about 6 feet four standing up, at the very least. Draped in a cloak with a mask, she couldn't make out much more of his face besides his eyes. His deep grey eyes, speckled with bright flecks of blue, were piercing in the dark. Worst of all, it meant that he had been awake and was acutely aware of her deep scrutiny.


Maerwynn turned her head abruptly, causing a small crick! to sound through the caravan. She hadn't even seen him at first, how had she missed such a strange man? He didn't look like a merchant, save for his clothes. He seemed too well fed (or perhaps, looking at Pyper, fed just enough) to be making a living off selling wares. But then again, there were stranger things than an in-shape merchant in the North.


Much stranger things.


Thoughts of her Father’s ill-gotten fate befell her again, and Maerwynn returned to brood in the shadows. It had been a week and a half or so since she had left her home - a feat only achievable with her beloved snow-shoes, of which lay stuffed deep amongst the other goods. She’d have to buy them back someday.


She'd never seen anything like the disease her father had succumbed to. A deadly thing which caused its victims to freeze up like blocks of ice and yet sustain them for days on what seemed to be nothing. If she didn't know better, Maerwynn would have claimed it to be magic. She touched her lips thoughtfully, still remembering how cold his forehead had felt.


“I wonder…”


She sighed, letting out another cloud of frosty air. Had she been let into the capital city, L'Aorn, this would have been so much easier. Regrettably, it seemed that it was under lock-down under some strange circumstances, and under the threat of death Maerwynn had set out to return empty-handed. It was a stroke of luck that had led the caravan to her. A stroke of luck that had given her the crazy idea of leaving the country to look for a cure – she hadn’t even checked to see if her father had frozen to death. A horrible feeling began to rise in her stomach, shadows of a selfish desire which she desperately kept at bay.


No. No. I did it for Father. I am not a coward.


Desperate for something, anything to divert her thoughts, Maerwynn resumed the conversation that Pyper had so rudely begun.


“Uhmm… you are a merchant, yes?”


Rousing from his slumber, the old man eagerly brought himself to speak (quite as if he had been waiting for this to happen, she observed).


“Oiyem, yessumm, Miss, quite right, quite right! I, why, aim be selling mayh wares for um, um, since I be a young lad meself, no dou-“


“Uhm, yes. Yes, I felt like you were going to say that.”


She used the silence used while he took another puff to carry on.


“So! You probably traveled all around the world, yes? Ha-“


“Ahhh, awcous, awcouse! Aimbeen awll ovuh, frum da mounteens o’Teeawdis to da deserts o’In… In… well, whuever ees cawled. Lemme tellyuh summin, wance I eve-“


“-sease, like it free-“


“-uwnd, lil’ gal like yaself ne’er e’er been owut en aboot, naow dee-“


“SHUT UP!”


With a start, Maerwynn and Pyper grew silent and stared at the outstretched hand. The now awoken merchant, skinny as he was, stretched out and pointed outside the caravan.


“Lookit that… the Night Eyes of T’Odis.”


Maerwynn craned her neck to see a black silhouette of a large tower contrasted against the moonlit sky. It seemed breathtaking and slightly ominous. The closer the horses got to the structure, the tighter the feeling in her chest became. For once, Pyper had shut his mouth and extinguished his pipe. As the smell of smoke faded away, the air seemed to grow much colder. The pointing man’s eyes grew wider to the point of popping before he let out a shaky breath. Whatever this “Night Eyes of T’Odis” was, Maerwynn was sure that it didn’t signal good fortune.


“What is it?” she whispered.


“The guard towers… they can see everything in the country that moves.”


“T’aint good ter pass by, lass, ‘specially annight. ‘Tis a bad omen for us merchants.”


Maerwynn shivered, though whether it was from the night air or the tower, she did not know. As they passed in relative silence, save for their heavy breathing and the nervous nickering of the horses, she saw the tower recede and grow smaller and smaller into the distance.


“Is it safe?”


“All’s waell. All’s waell. S’long as eet’s nawt on fire, all’s waell.”


“On fire?”


“S’course! ‘Ow else arryegonna usem?”


Maerwynn leant back against a particularly comfortable rucksack before letting tension she didn’t even know she had seep out of her back. Just around a week into her journey and she had already seen such amazing things. The ice mountain city of L’Aorn, and now this “Night Eyes of T’Odis” – she really was a country girl after all. She closed her eyes, trying to preserve the memory of the night.


A horse whinnied.


Then she saw them.


At first, Maerwynn assumed them to be trees in the horizon. As she squinted her eyes however, it became apparent to her that they were horsemen – rapidly arriving horsemen at that. And unless it was an urgent message, none of which she suspected would be delivered to the likes of her compatriots, they meant danger. She had seen enough bandit raids to sense malicious intent when she felt it and right now, the hairs on her neck were bristling.


“Wha-“


Before she could finish her sentence, Maerwynn saw her second greatest event of the night – the top of the tower which they had passed burst into flame. With a great whoosh and a crackle of firewood, the once black tower was crowned with light. The fire was so great that she could feel the heat on her face and she had to squint her eyes.


A sun, she thought. This is no fire. It is a sun.


“The Night Eyes! They are open!” The skinny merchant practically wailed before burying his face in the blankets.


“Ride! Ride! Git dose ‘orses a’movin’, dammit!” The distinctive voice of Pyper penetrated her ears and the incoming crack of the driver’s whip lurched the caravan ahead. Maerwynn gripped the wooden skeleton of the caravan as it made its way through the snow. If it had been a bumpy ride before, the ensuing chase had made it into a veritable earthquake. It was all she could do to not fall out and even at this breakneck speed – the mysterious horsemen were catching up.


“Oh, oh!” Maerwynn half whined, half groaned, as a crate fell on her head. “Hey! I think they’re catching up! Go faster, guys!” At this range, she could almost see the foam frothing at their steeds’ mouths.


They were tall men – impossibly tall men. The moonlight glinted off their strange armour and they carried a regal air about them. This was no bandit raid and these were no bandits. They seemed like those chess pieces she kept at home – emotionless, in sync, and unstoppable. One shouted a phrase in which she recognized as the T’Odis language – having learnt enough to communicate with customers – and the group splintered off into three assailants on each side of the caravan. Their spears were illuminated by the “Night Eyes” and were soon driven into the wooden stokes of the caravan.


“Arghh!” The caravan jostled about, almost veering off-course before the driver reined in the horses.


“Gettem off!” was his only response before he resumed his wrestle with his beasts of burden. Maerwynn grit her teeth before another jarring shock sent her tumbling around inside. Smashing into a pile of stinking hides, she spotted her crossbow jammed in a corner. The other merchants were cowering, even now unwilling to throw away their wares to delay the attackers. “What?! What?! Help me, you guys!”


Another shock.


This caravan will not last much longer, she thought grimly. “Fine, give me my crossbow!”


“Right ye’re, no prob-“


“Here, give it here, just give it!”


Snatching her weapon from someone’s – she couldn’t tell who, not in the commotion – hands, Maerwynn steadied herself by leaning against some crates. “Urgh!”


She pulled back on the heavy bowstring, using her feet and body for leverage. Struggling to fit in a bolt, she was unaware of what her comrades were doing – if they were even helping at all. Finally, impossibly, she was able to lift her crossbow up to her shoulder. She had no idea of how much time had passed but judging from the rattling of the caravan, it wouldn’t hold up for much longer. She took in a deep breath and held it, using her father’s teachings. A click of the trigger launched the steel bolt towards her assailants but another jolt caused her to fly sideways and fuck up her shot. It hit nothing but the snow.


“I can see the gates! Aren’t even closed yet!”


Amidst the gibbering praying of the merchants, the panicked whinnying of the horses, and the continuous crunching of the lances against wood, Maerwynn whooped out of triumph. By craning her neck, she could see the mountains quickly coming into view. Along with a monstrous gate, if it could even be called one. It was more of a huge chunk of rock outfitted with a great portcullis. If it wasn’t for the clearly man made turrets on top, Maerwynn would have thought it to be part of the mountains themselves.


Perhaps growing desperate by seeing that the gates were nowhere near closing, the horsemen redoubled their efforts and hacked away at the ropes connecting them to the horses. With a sudden schriiipp, Maerwynn watched as a steel blade cut through the fur clothed top and into the chest of a praying mercenary. A spurt of blood jetted out and stained her flushed face, causing her to blink.


Krakoom!


When next she opened her eyes, Maerwynn found herself slumped in the wreckage of what had been the caravan. She blearily blinked her eyes. Once. Twice. Everything hurt and there was the familiar metallic taste of blood in her mouth. A numb ringing made her deaf and every time she rolled her eyes spots of blackness threatened to extinguish her sight.


“Haaughh…” She fought to take in a breath. It felt as if Pyper, the fat merchant from earlier, had been sitting on her chest. It was also a struggle to move especially when her limbs felt like deadwood. For now, it was all she could do to catch her breath and watch the sky.


And watch.


And watch.


Until Maerwynn saw a black spiral come spiraling through the night sky, so black that it stood out even in the dark. It seemed to suck in all the stars’ lights in the sky before it lazily swallowed up the moon. Suddenly, Maerwynn couldn’t tell if she had opened her eyes or closed them. She opened her mouth and screamed. An unadulterated expression of pure frustration in the situation she found herself stuck in. A rumble shook the very land before a blinding blue bolt pierced through the darkness. The light showed off the black clouds, rolling and crashing about in the sky. It was a violent storm and it reminded her of the sea.


An ocean in the sky.


Maerwynn half laughed and half cried.


“A thunderstorm. I was scared of a thunderstorm.” As pain began to sear through her legs, she only grit her teeth in a crazed grimace. At the very least, it meant that feeling had begun to come back to her limbs. She wiggled her toes to test the theory, and although the blackness barred her from seeing them move, the jolting pains announced to her that her body was ready to go. Maerwynn began to crawl forwards, occasionally feeling with her hands the remains of her traveling companions.


Another flash of light briefly illuminated the background and in front of her, she saw the strange hooded man from earlier fighting with the horsemen. Though the image had lasted for a second, it was burned into her eyes. He had skin like the snow, and he seemed even taller than before. With every lightning bolt that shot through the skies, Maerwynn could see snapshots of their battle. From her prostate form on the ground, the men seemed like giants fighting in the mountains.


What had seemed like spears to her earlier were, on second impression, just swords. Huge bladed swords that seemed too heavy to lift, let alone swing around like they were doing. Sparks flew off their metal weapons as they ground against each other, the light of the metal shards giving more precious details to Maerwynn. With a final peal of thunder, the clouds dissipated to reveal a bloodstained canvas – the stranger remained standing tall and the nine horsemen lay dead, their blood darkening the white snow.


Just like that, silence and serenity returned to the battleground. The moon shone brightly once more, although it had set down lower in the sky. Maerwynn heaved for breath before leaning back against a broken wheel. The horses were long gone. The merchants lay dead or unconscious – she didn’t care which at the moment. And the storm… she had never seen anything like it. Even the mightiest blizzards gave some sort of warning before they struck – if you knew how to look for it. They followed a pattern.


But this thunderstorm? The darkness that had just swallowed them whole? Maerwynn had never seen anything like it. Perhaps she had had her eyes closed the entire time after all. Besides, the important thing was that she was alive. That meant hope for her quest still lingered.


“We lived.” She spoke to the air. “We lived.”


She took the moment to rest up and to fully appreciate the carnage. Besides the horsemen who lay dead, the caravan had been utterly smashed to pieces. The torn up body of the skinny merchant lay nearby. That could have been me.


She crawled through the wreckage, aiming to find her crossbow and perhaps pick up any useful items. Medicine was a wishful thought but perhaps not an impossible one. By the end of her crawl, Maerwynn had gathered up her crossbow (though it had a snapped string), a blowing horn, and three of her crossbow bolts. She strapped them around her shoulders with some string before a sudden cough alerted her to the prostate man a few feet away from her.


Pyper, it seemed, had not fared for the better in the caravan crash. A long splinter of wood penetrated from his belly and yellow bubbles of fat and gore trickled slowly out his wound. Maerwynn sat still and stared at him with a tight mouth. It seemed only right to let the dying man speak out first. Unfortunately, it seemed as if that was not going to happen. The fat merchant gasped for breath, his previous witticisms reduced to a gurgling wheeze. Maerwynn sighed before starting her arduous crawl over to him, taking only a moment to stop for breath. Her ribs still hurt. “I feel like you can’t make it.”


She rested a hand on the wooden spike, but even that small movement caused him to tremble furiously.


“No. You can’t make it. Not like this.” Maerwynn sniffed before reaching in her coat to grasp the familiar bone handle of her knife. She was glad to see it had not been lost or broken in the craziness that had occurred. Upon the sight of her knife however, Pyper’s eyes began to roll in their sockets. They whizzed from side to side, as if he were shaking his head, “no, no”. He began to froth at the mouth and blood spluttered from his throat. It was a disconcerting sight – one which felt strangely familiar to Maerwynn – and she ended by plunging the knife into his chest.


Maerwynn was certain that she had hit his heart, though it had been a bit more difficult due to his bulk and clothes. His body jerked and relieved itself and the blood from her knife wound matted his fur cloak. Pyper let out one last gasp before the light in his eyes dimmed and faded. Killing was a grisly business.


“Goodbye, Pyper.” She wiped off the blade on his clothes before sheathing it and stashing it in her coat again.


Just then, she heard the tinny sound of a trumpet calling. Obviously, reinforcements had arrived. Or something along those lines – they (or rather, the stranger) had just killed the men following them, after all. The grating noise of the portcullis caught her attention and she snapped her head back to look at the mountain gate to see it closing. The creaking and clinking of metal on stone sounded like her own despair.


“No, no. No.” She murmured before struggling to her feet.


Although the gate was only a few dozen feet away, with her shaky legs it felt like a million. She limped-hopped towards the gates only to have a sense of doom reach over her. There was simply no way to reach it in time. And as Maerwynn was only so certain of, once she gave up hope inside, there really was no way to succeeding. It was then she remembered the pale faced stranger and his skillful display. Surely a warrior like that would have no trouble dashing through the gate… perhaps with a certain gammy legged woman.


“Please,” she croaked out, “help me. Don't leave me! Help me!”

 

[Savagai]

Rufus Nevarron  


Rufus stormed out the throne room towards his own dorms. On his face is a angry expression, but the tried to smiles towards the people he saw in the hallways. He failed however. He opened the and sat down on his soft couch.


His father was going crazy. He was really going to kill his father if he made another stupid move, even if it was a very small one.


The Nevarron Family has been since the introduction of Slaves against it, and from the year 220 they forbade it in their Estate, they even helped people escaping slavery. Now, a century later, his Father had bought a slave, some young T'odis girl. The Nevarron were famous for not having slave... When he got to his father to asks if he could give the slave freedom he answered:


"Little boy, The Nevarron Family is going to end here with you, so I can actually do anything, cause it doesn't bother anymore"


After that comment he had ran away. He needed to get the slave free, flee with her and come back when his parents died or something so he could claim the owner ship. And he has to get a plan how to get a child or something. He thought of his boyfriend who was living some villages away. They have been together for nearly five years now... five years, Rufus thought, it was a long time. He secretly hoped he could get his own land, starting his own nation. His people would follow him, they loved him. He could make his own rules et cetera.


He stood up and walked towards a large table. On the table lay the map of Azae. He looked at the borders, his Nation would be very small and easily overran by others... So he needed to find allies or something? Roadalia? They got their wall.. Libertia? He inspected the map.. and made a plan 


Location: Nevarron Castle, Kildra Mood: Angry  With: Nobody Tags:

 

[Zooks]

Lilly - Slave Girl

​

Soft footsteps echoed to the exclusion of all else. It was so late in the night there wasn't a single person tracking the corridors or halls. It was almost a ghost town through the huge estate. Even the cooking women had retired to get some rest before awakening shortly after the break of Dawn to prepare loaves of bread and the day's meals. It seemed the only one still awake was a timid young girl as she slowly made her way through the wide and long halls, shivering as she did. "Pli ys glara mu vor? (Why is there no fur?)" she muttered in smooth voice from native language, more to herself. Finally an ornate doorway came before her and her soft steps paused before it. Her gaze drifting up to the high-rise ceiling as she took a moment to gather herself.


How many years had she done this? Her culture was somewhat less versed in the intricacies of time, and more so significant events. The first day a boy killed a beast. The first born child of a mother and father. The joining of two lovers in the T'Odis version of 'marriage'. And the day a girl first became a woman. She was saddened momentarily that again she was left to experience that, alone, and not long ago either. Her shifting body confusing and bewildering her and again she missed the comfort of her Mother's love to explain to her what it all meant. But she was taken... to young.... Taken from her family and used, like this.


She took a sharp breath inwards, steeling herself, promising to herself she would not cry out this time, she would not scream or writhe, simply allow it to happen. She was a fully grown woman now, no child, she needed to act like one. She promised herself that every time but, every time... she failed herself. It never got any easier, and less threatening or terrifying. Letting her soft fingertips brush against the door frame she pushed inwards and slowly creaked the doors opened, before slipping them just as silently behind her. The gust of wind from the closing door making her long, snow-white hair flutter momentarily before resting against her shoulders and hips. Her blue gaze turned down to the floor as she did learn most Nobles seemed to like that...A steady gaze almost always annoyed them. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the feet of a man as he half bent over a table, reading something it seemed.


She took a soft cough then, to grasp his attention, as she slowly unclasped her cloak and let the heavy thing slide and land in a puddle at her bare feet.


It became apparent only now the reason why the girl was half shivering, and the cold drafts of the hallways affected her so. She was wearing close to nothing... A thin, invisible material that left absolutely nothing to the imagination. A hand lifting up to grasp at her opposite elbow though her gaze still remained to the floor. Goosebumps covered the entirety of her skin, half in fear, and half with a chill. Thighs crossing somewhat in a coy manner. Her chest still growing it seemed, but decidedly heavier then when she had first been taken and brought to Kildran. A petite, elegant frame now. Only two other items on a her person, a beautifully jeweled choker necklace, coated in fine Sapphires to match her blue eyes. And a silver twisted metal bar wrapped around her right thigh not unlike a bracelet. The low light gleaming off it.


Finally, working the courage to use her soft voice, she spoke. Her voice a beautiful soprano though Common words seemed clunky coming from her soft lips.


"Lord Noble... offers mine duty.... Insisted..." She tried to explain.


@Savagai

 

[Spacing Out]

Seraphina Aeritheos



"Please let me go! I am a follower of Azae! You must be mistaken!" The woman exclaimed trying to break free from the grasp of the two soldiers beside her. Seraphina ignored the buzzing of the maiden's plea as she continued walking through the former cathedral to deliver the prisoner to the headsman, who was more than please to fulfill his duty in the name of the crazed queen.

Her armor stained with dirt and blood due to the riot that arose in response to her duty to capture the faux believer of the 'new religion of Azae' as sera like to think of it. Surprisingly there was no deaths this time. injuries and collateral damage. She had to admit she find it amazing what people would do for a person.

Servants took quick glances at her and her ladies before proceeding to their usual routine. Her walk with filled with grandiosity, her head held high.Though she was a holy knight earning her more recognition, she was already known due to her family's history of breeding desired horses and warriors. However the warrior part didn't seem to matter. Since the queen became mental, she allowed outsiders and more peasants to join the knights.

After strolling through many hallways and stairwells, the small group arrived in the dungeon where the galloter was already prepping his instruments for the 'entertainment' that will occur later on that day.The Queen executions has increased tremendously in the last couple of months and the knights always has to deliver the prisoners therefore It was common to have small talks with the headsman.

He chuckled as he watched Lady Sif walk down the steps along with his new victim prior to commenting. "I see that you have brought a hysterical one. What's the verdict?" She only raised her eyebrow for him to know what the woman was convicted for, The most used one at that. "Ah, I see." Sera commanded the soldiers to release the inmate. The maiden screaming turned to sobs, shifting Sera's thoughts to sympathetic ones.

She no longer wanted to be in their presence whilst she felt regret and the urge to defy her mandate. "Tell the Queen that the infidel has been captured."

"And what about your beloved future queen, Ranaria?" Teased the executioner snickering softly to himself, Knowing as well as everyone in the castle that Sera has hatred for the heathen.

"Don't ever allude that pretentious, Oblivious Swine in my presence. She's just lucky, the Queen decided to make a charity out of her." She hissed unceasingly making her way out of the revolting place.

​

 

[Zooks]

Renaria Velouse - Roadalia Successor

​

High up-top one of the towers to the Capital of Ashah, gazing out into rolling lands far below was a women with long thick brown hair blowing about in the stiff, cool breeze just before Dawn. The highest and most South West facing tower, in fact, overlooking the land and the huge expanse and outline of the Swazi Forest miles and miles away. Just a blip on the horizon. Here on this Tower lived the Capital's Falconry station, where messenger birds would relay important business to and from high-ranking officials, other Nation's Royalty or Rulers and Troops lining the Great Wall surrounding Roadalia's borders. And among the flocks of small, trained birds preening was one much larger bird whom rocked back and forth on a balcony ledge. An Eagle, to be exact, that belonged to none-other then the women aside it. It stretched out a large wing to run it's beak from root to tip of a spread flight feather before shuffling it's wings and stretching it's curved beak wide in a bird version of a yawn. Then the Eagle curled his head back to nestle his face into his own back feathers and promptly took a snooze, his claws tightening on the rounded railing before relaxing as his beady yellow eyes closed down.


Renaria glanced to the Eagle, and while she was alone among the flutter and half chirps of birds, did she allow herself to give him a small smile. Fingertips reaching out to brush over his head, to which the bird fluttering his wings in an excitable manner then relaxed down to snooze again. Her trained Eagle reminding her of times long ago as she ran with a fast pace through the depths of the Swazi Forest, bare feet silent as dead leaves on the forest floor swirled up from her fast pace. Grasping a hand up to swing and use a low hanging branch as leverage, the then young girl hoisted herself into a couch in one fluid motion on the thin branch which creaked, while simultaneously drawing the long bow to full strength, fingers steady as her eyes didn't even blink. Focus 100% on a spooked Buck Deer as it ran and pranced at a surprising speed. Normally one would forgo a deer as erratic and fearful as this, often time's to hard to hit with a simple Bow and Arrow amidst the hundreds of tree obstacles.


However Renaria was an exception to the rule, and an above average sized Buck Deer would be worth too hefty a price to simple leave to escape. Taking a deep, steadying breath, to avoid any unnecessary movements the girl's eyes narrowed down and with a resounding thud the arrow whistled through the air. The deer made a gurgled cry before crashing in a heap against the ground. Not only had the shot hit it's target, but downed it in one hit. Almost before the arrow had plunged into the furry beast, Renaria had slipped from the low lying branch and slung the bow onto her back as she dashed beside the creature, suddenly grabbing an antler and exposing it's neck to cut right through the creatures jugular, causing the creature a sudden and as painless death as she could manage. Then without a word the girl started to drag the beast back to her home and awaiting family.


That was the deer whose meat and hide they had showcased at the Ashah Capital on her 14th birthday. The same day she had silently left the respite of the crowds to find some peace and quiet, alone with her thoughts. The same day the Queen had blocked her exit and requested her age, to which she answered truthfully. The same day the Queen had asked her to stay, to become her Successor. The girl originally had intended to refuse her offer, she enjoyed spending her days within the Forest hunting, spending nights with her family. However it was not her place to refuse a Queen and as such she concluded it was best to simply follow along. Why the Queen took her to favor still confused the woman, she had never given her any outwards signs of adoration, of needfulness or fever pitch love. Instead always the blank face and watchful gaze, like a enigmatic statue. And yet the Queen adored her so.


Renaria took a deep breath in, filling her lungs to capacity before letting her hot breath steam up before her against the chill air. This new advisor, Miranda, seemed to be taking the spot of Renaria by the Queen's side which as a whole was fine by the woman. However, along with the new advisor came stricter punishments, relapsed laws, and a stricter devotion to the Azae Religion. One of which the girl confessed her sins often... mostly apologizing for using the Church pray time's a moment away and to herself. What she would give to escape to hunt once again. Years it had been. But with the Queen's eyes (both her own and through servants and watchful spy's) the girl knew she was never truly alone. Even now in the corner of her eye she saw the smallest of a flicker, the tell tale sign of an observer. Though she made no movement what-so-ever. Even had she asked the observer to leave, two more would no doubt take their place.


Giving one more rub at the back of her pet Eagle, before she turned on her heel and walked with complete silence. Not even her boots making a sound against the ground.


Once a hunter, always a hunter.


Descending into the huge Cathedral that was Ashah to find the Queen and keep abreast of the day's activities.

 

[Lord Zanicus]

Var'Qo Zaat

Location: Kein, Kildra.


DRAMATIS PERSONAE;


Pirate


Wet Stash, Captain, curve sword


Stiff Tail, Quartermaster, curve sword


White Mast, Pirate 1, double-handed battle axe


Trigger, Pirate 2, crossbow


Bent Dime, Pirate 3, fang-shaped dagger


Boot Strap, Cabin Boy, throwing knife


Tavern Staff


Gil, Owner


Borka, Crippled staff


Patron


Hew, Drunkard, short sword


Dean Fury, Ranger, double-edged sword

Boot Strap maintained his distance ten paces behind the party. His gaze, still alert and wandering despite of the late hours. So when he first laid eyes on the majestic walls of Kildra's Capitol, Kein, the sixteen-year-old's jaw dropped, completely awed. The structures and landscape here were nothing like the ones where their ship had docked at. Nowhere near nor similar to the port's architectural design. He'd not imagined a world such as this as he made his way here — the way the land itself reached out impossible distances, he could have sworn he'd seen a curvature to the world. And so much life, in the grasses and in the sky. In the seasonal tiny flowers erupted from every hillside and even on the trees. All his life, he had lived with seasoned and rugged seamen — all crowded into the small belly of Jessy's Jug, under the guiding hands of his own uncle, Wet Stash.


Here though, in this extraordinary place, he'd discovered a new life. Winds never carried with them the saltiness of the sea nor do they stink of urine and the stench of rotting dead skin that'd clung onto each man's flesh, for who knows exactly how long. He'd no idea it was so refreshing to take in a deep breathe, here. On top of that, there was room, so much room. He'd not recalled having bumped his shoulders into the others over the period of this journey.


Perhaps, the youth dared believe, after this, there would be the chance to establish their own place to call home. No more looting or treasure seeking campaigns, no more fighting and killing. Here, there will be peace.


Suddenly, his admiration of the city was disrupted by the sight of his companions' looming backs. Boot Strap stopped in his track and peered in between the men to have a look at what was ahead.


“Do you think he'll be in there?” asked the stout and muscle-bulked Quartermaster.


“Who knows?” came the Captain's husky reply. “But what other choice do we have?”


“I guess all we need to do now, is carry out the steps which that Kildran-merchant have informed us of!”


“Indeed!” said Wet Stash before he glanced back over a shoulder. “Boot? You come with me!” he paused. “The rest of you, get into position!” the Captain took a moment to look around before he pointed to a fairly dark alley. “Over there!” another pause. “Trigger, you find a good vantage point covering that area!”


“Aye!” acknowledged Trigger.


“Hmm!” nodded the giant Northman, White Mast.


“Aye, aye, Cap'n!” saluted the ever so enthusiastic Bent Dime before the agile individual scurried off.


“Good luck, Captain!” Stiff Tail wished as they clasped at each other's wrist, shook and then parted ways.


Boot Strap read the gentle swaying signage above the only door with lights pouring out of its slit footing, “High O' Ale Tavern”, probably one of the Capitol's many taverns that's situated near the city outskirts. And what were the odds of them finding the person they sought after, in this particular one? They best give it up, for the chance seemed quite slim. However, to do just that also meant they'd have to abandon the notion of revenge. His father's soul would have wandered between the two realms for eternity. Lost and without peace, unavenged.


Unlike most tavern the pirates have visited, High O' Ale Tavern wasn't as lively as they'd expected. It was thick with smoke and the scent of tobacco was heavy. There were merely a handful of people within. Absence of a bard's touch, absence of the usual merry making and commotions which usually accompanied such a place. Boot followed his uncle to a table, eyes blinking from the stinging smoke as he surveyed every faces turned their way. His attention was then drawn to a lonesome individual in the far end of the room. Hooded and seated on the rear two legs of a chair, with both feet crossed over the table. An amber glow could be seen from the corner of the man's lip, yet most of his facial features remained in the shadow. Boot all of a sudden felt a surge of adrenaline rush. For a moment, he was certain they'd found their target. With a trembling hand, Boot reached for the throwing knife hidden inside his sleeve.


It'll soon be over!


“Not yet, Boot!” a husky whisper, voiced. “We want him caught, red-handed!”


“...aye, sir!” the boy replied with a hint of disappointment.


“Here,” Stash slid a blank note towards him. “Pin it up on the board over there!”

* * * * *

​

He watched as his nephew stood and walked over towards the board. His eyes scanning over the tavern's occupants, studying their body languages and reactions, searching for telltale signs of the assassin. Both his Quartermaster and him have made a prediction that the killer would be here, keeping an eye on the board and on whoever have put up the note. He believed the assassin they were after should be one of the men within the tavern.


“G-g-good evening, s-s-sir!” stuttered a voice from his left. “W-w-welcome to High O' Ale T-t-tavern!” greeted a hunched-back young man with half his face bandaged in a dirty and wet brownish rag. “W-w-what would you like to drink, s-s-sir?” he asked.


“Give us the tavern's finest,” Stash replied, his brows furrowed in disgust at the dirt-covered face under the tattered hood of an equally dirty cloak. “And tell me, what's the name of the owner to this place?”


“G-g-gil, sir! Th-th-the owner name is-is-is Gil, sir!” the young man then gestured with his head towards the Bartender.


“Well, tell him to get another helper for the tavern! One with a pleasant looking face!” said Stash before dismissing the ugly staff.


The Captain noticed how the waiter had an arm folded and tucked tightly to the chest, along with the distinctive limp where he seemed to be dragging and throwing a foot far out ahead in his gait. A cripple, how badly business must have been for this tavern to have hired someone of such state. Stash's gaze followed him to the bar. After a brief exchange of words between the owner and his helper, Gil looked in his direction. Judging from the man's built, Stash could tell the man was no ordinary Bartender, but he wasn't sure if Gil was Var'Qo Zaat.


“Borka! Hey, Borka!” came the sudden and loud hailing from a drunken customer.


“Y-y-yes, Master?” the crippled waiter replied.


“Hajunt's below! Where's ma damn -hic- refill!?”


“Ah! R-r-right away, Master Hew!”


“Gah! How many times must I -hic- tell you not to call me that? People might get the wrong idea! -hic- Just call me, sir, like you -hic- addressed the others!”


“Y-y-yes, Master Hew!”


“Damn you, you ugly piece of -hic- scat!” barked the drunkard patron as he fumbled to a stand, one hand reaching for the hilt of the short sword by his waist.


“That is enough, Hew!” exclaimed the Ranger from the far end of the room. “Draw your sword and you'll walk out of here an arm less than whence you'd entered!”


“Tch! Hajunt be damned! Stay out of this, -hic- Dean Fury!”


“Do you really want to go through this, boy?” challenged the Ranger with merely a slight raise of his head.


“Tch! Just get me ma refill, Borka!”


Stash turned to look at his nephew upon the boy's return. And like him, he noticed how intensely Boot seemed to be reading the situation, fishing for a tell as well. At that point of time, it was almost difficult for him to hide how proud he was with the boy, through his facial expression. Gil, he suspected, might be the man they were after. The Bartender was surprisingly calm and collected, without even taking a glance at his threatened employee. Then again, the Ranger appeared to be somewhat authoritative himself, as if he was hired to watch over the tavern. Perhaps Boot did have a good eye after all.


Time flew by. The pirates studied the crowd a little longer while only taking a couple of sip from their drink, staying sober for their later task. They watched as the owner dismissed the crippled waiter early, perhaps afraid that Hew, who seemed to be the same age as Boot, might cause him harm. As the numbers dwindled down, Stash finally decided to leave the tavern. He then told Boot to keep watch on the door from a distant and report which way the Ranger and the Bartender would go. Hew, the young drunkard, was ultimately ruled out, for it would be impossible for the boy to be the one who killed his brother, Silver Patch, since the murder took place more than a decade ago!

* * * * *

​

“There! That ain't so hard now, ain't it?” asked Bent Dime with a grin stretching from one ear to the other. “He ne'er saw it comin'! Hah!”


“Hmm!” a monotone acknowledgement from the T'Odis sounded.


“Now, two more and we are done!” Said Dime as he wiped the fresh blood from his dagger onto his leather pants. “After this, things be back to é way it was! É hunt for treasures and riches shall resume!” the scrawny pirate spat on the stone ground. “This obsession of theirs, had us goin' nowhere! Goin' for far too long! And with Dirt Tooth's blessing, our second-mate, it shall end on this very night!” scowled Dime.


“Sgesl..” Mast said.


“Wut?”


“Sg–...”


“Dime?” came the familiar husky voice. “Dime? Where's Stiff Tail?”


“Ah! Sta–.. Cap'n? Yer back? Yer back!”


“Where is Stiff Tail?”


“There!” Dime pointed deeper into the alley and at the darkness. “It was him! It was Vark O' Zart!” he feigned sadness.


“What?”


Dime almost flinched as Stash rushed and slipped between the pirates to study the body of the Quartermaster. Looks were then exchanged between the Northman and him. Composure restored. A silent conversation took place. They both nodded before arming themselves with their weapon. Dime spun his fang-shaped dagger on his finger by the hole at the weapon's base while Mast tightened his grip on his massive battle axe.


Stash glanced over his shoulder to ask how long Stiff was dead but no sound came as his eyes widened. “Dime! Behind you!” warned the Captain as he hurried to his feet and unsheathed his curved sword.


“Wut?” Dime felt the hair on the back if his neck stood on its end, he turned and as if from the dark wall itself, he noticed the face of a skeleton looking back at him. “GGAAAAAHHH!” Dime screamed as he suddenly felt his face got torn by a blinding flash of light.


Yet, he lived, staggering a couple of steps backwards. The wound did not kill him. Dime looked down to his chest and noticed Mast's axe have pushed him back, enough to avoid the otherwise fatal blow. Still, it hurts as Hajunt's whipped ass. A hand reached up to his face, pressing against the loose flap of sticky wet skin back up over his nose. His vision was already blurry then. But he could still tell who's who. Naturally, Dime backed away from the engaging warriors. It looked as if both the Captain and the T'Odis were being pushed back by a shadow.


Even the T'Odis?


What's odd about the battle, Dime noticed, was the absence of clashing steel. Their assailant have not once blocked an attack with the short sword. He'd either dodged or blocked their attacking arm with his hand. And his every strike almost seemed true, barely giving the men room to escape unscathed. Just what sort of training did he went through? And a battle absent of its usual clashing and ringing steel was like combatting with death itself. Dime soon found himself trembling. Not only was the rumour and the Captain's accusations were true, he'd also now realised they'd lacked knowledge about this assassin, knowing not a single fact about his capability.


As silently as he could, Dime backed himself against the wall. The moment he witnessed the Captain fell to his knees, he turned and started climbing, scaling the walls with hope of escaping.

* * * * *

​

It's over, now! I've avenged you, Papa!


Boot made his way back towards the Tavern along the narrow corridor. He was panting and was covered in blood. His hands was still trembling from his first kill. The Ranger wasn't as tough as he looked, thought the young boy. He smiled and then sniffed, overwhelmed all of a sudden by a decade long bottled up emotion. Tears started welling up. He'd done it, Boot told himself. It was he, Boot Strap, son of Silver Patch and nephew to Wet Stash, he killed the assassin, he killed the White-Faced Shadow, he killed Var'Qo Zaat!


It is over, now...


What he saw next had him frozen in place. Suddenly bound by an invisible rope and gagged by an unseen rag. His jaw dropped. Not entirely in awe this time, but rather, in fear. His uncle was seen kneeling, both hands busy gathering something that'd spilled unto the ground before him. Boot flinched upon realising what it was Stash was gathering, his own intestines. Quickly, he shifted his attention to White Mast. The giant seemed to still be fighting. The boy squinted, searching for the assailant. His eyes widened once again upon noticing the weapon the assassin was holding.


Hew?


But, the irrational youth was clearly drunk, he protested. Besides, he's too young to be the same one who'd murdered his father. What was going on? And where was Stiff, where was Dime? Not long, Mast collapsed face first unto the ground, blood spraying into crimson mist from his neck. For the briefest of time, Boot spotted the cloaked and masked individual as he stood over the fallen giant, before he disappeared into the shadow.


No, it's not over still...

* * * * *

​

There wasn't any chance for a clear shot. The longer he spent staring down the aiming sight, the more the darkness played tricks on his eyes. Trigger had to occasionally look away towards the silhouette of the Capitol's main building before he began pointing the crossbow to his target again. For the duration of the whole fight, not once was he given a clear shot of the masked shadow without killing his own comrades.


Spotting Boot standing stumped at a dozen or so paces away, Trigger contemplated if he should carry out Dirt Tooth's command instead. He wasn't quite sure, so he searched for Dime. The scrawny pirate was seen levelled to him a couple of houses down and was balancing himself on a high wall, walking towards his general direction. Trigger wanted to wave him over but had to reconsider when he saw Var'Qo Zaat emerging and rising as if from the very wall, behind Dime.


Trigger instinctively held his breathe and took aim. His finger, pulling back slowly on the release mechanism of his crossbow. Another fight ensued atop the narrow path of the wall. Dime was losing and was seconds away from getting a short sword buried in his back. However, just before Trigger could commit himself with the attack, he felt a cold blade slid under his very throat. Trigger pulled his head back and released the bolt, sending it over the corridor and Boot below before it found its mark, sending Var'Qo Zaat over the edge.


The crossbow wielder then turned around, ignoring the sharp and stinging pain across his throat. Trigger shook his head in disbelief as right there before him, loomed Var'Qo Zaat. Impossible, Trigger knew he'd gotten this fellow, yet how was he here? Merely reacting on impulse, Trigger grabbed a bolt from his thigh and attempted at stabbing the assassin. His attack failed miserably as Var'Qo Zaat effortlessly stopped him at the bicep with something just as cold as the blade — that almost claimed his head — from earlier. Desperate, Trigger dropped his crossbow and reached out to grab the assassin, with intention to either pull the masked one with him or to deliver another stab.


Something rattled and slices then, a flash of light too have taken place before the distinct sound of splattering liquid could be heard. Trigger found himself losing his footing. He slipped and fell backwards seemingly in a slow motion. In his hand which he'd attempted to grab his attacker, was a piece of dirty bandage and rag, covered in grime and dirt. With a thud, Trigger made contact with the ground not long after the fall. But he felt no pain. He then found himself rolling for a little bit, probably down a slight slope, he thought, before coming to a full stop. His face was covered and smeared with something hot. Trigger couldn't hear anything, nor can he feel his own limbs. Something wasn't right. He blinked. The stone ground was too close to his face, flushed in fact against his cheek. It shouldn't be possible. He blinked again. There should be a shoulder preventing such a thing from happening.


Boot?


He saw Boot approaching him, then, gathered him up with two hands, effortlessly. The boy had tears running down his cheeks. Trigger again blinked and as soon as he did, Boot brought him close to chest. Darkness began creeping in from the edges of his vision then.


Wait, what? No...


Trigger then blinked no more...

* * * * *

​

This night have been the most exhaustive night Dime had ever experienced. Not only physically, but also both mentally and emotionally. He was certain, Var'Qo Zaat was behind him earlier, but as soon as Trigger's bolt struck the man — at least he'd like to believe it did — Var'Qo Zaat have appeared behind his comrade, Trigger, a couple of block away. Dime couldn't quite comprehend what was going on or how he did it. He glanced over his shoulder and looked down the wall, there was no sign of there being another assassin. So how did the man get there so fast? Was the part that he could be in two places at the same time also be true? Or that he was indeed a phantom? Inhuman?


Dime watched as Trigger's lifeless body slid down the rooftop before his friend's head rolled away from the body. Cold sweat rolled down his spine. He was trembling so violently it almost seemed like he was shivering beyond the Great Gate of the north. Slowly, he raised his head gaze back towards the killer. Var'Qo Zaat at this point of time seemed to be distracted by something in the west. The man had his attention fixed on the horizon. Dime followed and looked but saw nothing.


Wait a minute, why waste this opportunity? With a quick and fluid motion, Dime tossed the fang-shaped dagger with all his might. Coincidentally, Boot was also doing the same thing with his throwing knife. Catch him while he's distracted, both opportunistic pirate came with the same strategy.


Dime was grinning as he anticipated the damage they would do. Alas, the excitement lasted all but too briefly as the assassin deflected his dagger to then catch Boot's and as if with a flick of the wrist, sent it somewhere. All this without even looking. How in Azae was he —


“Urgh!” something suddenly jabbed at Dime's throat.


It was hard to swallow. Harder even to breath. The more he tried, Dime found that he was taking in a thick hot fluid into his lungs instead. He gurgled and spat blood from his mouth. His hands reached up to his neck, touching something jutting out the side of his neck. Panicked, he pulled it out and his eyes once again grew wide. Boot's dagger. His realisation appeared to be the cue for his brain to shut down, since everything suddenly went all dark for him. Consumed by the abyss just like the rest had.

* * * * *

​

What is that? A lightning storm?


Looks like it!


But what's that black globe? Ink?


Don't know.


Stay away from it, Vyran! Don't you dare think about it!


Too late!


He already did!


...Hew, yet lived...


Such a phenomenon usually have bad news as its companion!


I agree!


Still, that wouldn't stop him!


Indeed!


It didn't stop him when he's a boy and it certainly won't stop him now!


But what did he hope to find?


A friend perhaps? An enemy? Or a girl?


Power...


What?


Ridiculous!


What if it's death instead?


Every living thing must come to an end!


Naturally! But this won't be natural! It's equivalent to suicide!


It's yet to be certain!


Pshaw! Which side are you on?


Sides?


...Only the pirate boy is left!


Kill him!


No! Cut off his legs instead!


Send him to that storm instead!


Silence! He moved!


Vyran finally tore his gaze away from the amazing event and stared down at the boy named, Boot. From behind his mask, his glare almost seemed to say, “Live and get stronger! Then come find me if you still desire revenge! I'll be waiting!”. A heartbeat later, he was gone, having turned and leapt off into the dark alley below.

 

[yoikes]

Thera


Location: A random town -> Ashah, the castle


Mood: Bored


Tags: -


There was to be another execution, ordered by Queen Gayana herself. A few devout followers of the Goddess of Azea, a bald priest and several men and woman of different ages. Thera was sent to observe the trial, and watch as they begged and prayed for their life. Their accusation varied from stealing, to non-believing, and to murder. And then the judge would find them guilty, like every other trial out there. And like most of them, they are punished with public execution.


One of them, the last to be judged, was a priest.


A bald man in his forties, he used to be known as the friendliest person in the town. That was until a girl went missing, and they found her body buried in a shallow grave behind the priest’s residence. Then they found out that she had been raped, and that before she disappeared she went to visit the priest to learn the verses of the holy book.


The verdict came almost instantly, public execution.


The gallows were built right after their trial, with a wooden podium and trapdoors. The ropes were tied and the stage was now set. Thera, an observer, could only watch as the soldiers led the criminals to the podium. The crowd was wild, cheering and clapping as the criminals climbed the podium. A child cried as the soldiers placed the rope around his head, followed by his sister of fifteen years old. Then his mother, his father, and most of the criminals that were about to be executed except for the priest, who started singing. Before anyone knew it, the criminals joined in. And together they sang the Prayer to Mother Above, with the crowds booing them.


“Calm the crowd.” Thera ordered, and her men, quickly moving, did as she told. They stood in line, surrounding the crowd and shouting orders. There was some pushing, but all that ceased as soon as the cleric walked to the podium and started singing a prayer. The crowd and the criminal joined her.


Thera was not religious, she did not believe in Gods. She found it hard, believing that there is something greater than her, that watches over her after all that she’s been thought in the past. She did learn a few prayers and hymns and verses from the holy book. Her father, who knew about this little secret of hers, told her to learn some so at least she looked like one. A believer, like the many people in front of her. She was glad she followed her father’s advice, or it could have be her standing in the podium with a rope around her neck.


Having faith in something is beautiful, that’s why she respected those who believed in the Gods. Thera watched as she finished singing and saw how the rapist priest fell on his knee and prayed. Thera couldn’t help but to wonder whether any of the Gods would listen to him after what he did.


The priest then stood, mumbling a verse as a rope was hung around his neck. Then the trap doors were opened, and their bodies fell through it. Some broke their neck and died instantly, some struggled as they slowly choked to death. Their eyes were wide with surprise, their faces turned red and then, as they slowly died out, turned pale. Their bodies swayed left to right. Left to right. Then they stopped and the crowds cheered and rejoiced before dispersing.


“Start cleaning.” Thera gave the order, and her men did as told. They cut the ropes and put down the bodies in the street, their face covered with a piece of dirty fabric, then started putting down the gallows. The cleric, a woman in her fifties with beautiful blonde hair who is in charge of this small town, approached her.


“Thera, of the Holy Knights.” She greeted.


“You know my name.” Thera paused.


“There are many knights who serve the Queen, but only one with weapons such as yours.” The cleric took a glance at her hooked blades, clipped to her belt and ready to be drawn anytime she needed to fight. “Do you know what the people call you? The Queen’s Slave.”


Another mockery to her past, a secret known to the public. Ha-ha. Thera wondered if she was supposed to smile, or laugh to please the woman in front of her. She decided to do neither, replying her with her usual deadpan face.


“What do you think of today’s trial?” The woman asked her second question.


“The Queen appreciates your help on keeping and securing the peace of the nation, by capturing the sinners and non-believers—” Thera replied, straight into the woman’s clear blue eyes, with an answer that she had burned inside her memory.


“I don’t ask what the Queen’s thinks about,” The woman interrupted. “I ask what youthink about.”


Well, that’s new. No one asked about that before, they were usually satisfied with that answer she memorized for them. She did not know what to answer or whether she was allowed to speak out her thoughts, so Thera answered with silence. The woman laughed.


“Is that your answer, or are you as quiet as they said?” The woman laughed. She stopped laughing as the soldiers started loading the corpses into the back of a horse cart, where they will be transported to a graveyard where they will be buried. “What do you think of them?”


“Criminals.” Thera gave a short reply.


“Rapist and murderer and non-believers.” The woman turned at her, a big innocent smile on her face. “Tell me, do you believe in Goddess Azae?”


No. “Yes, of course.” Thera nodded. “My father introduced me to her. Taught me how to pray and how to sing, the read the holy book and memorize verses.”


“Bless your Father, then, and please forgive me for asking such a stupid question.” The woman apologized. “I’m curious, for there has been a rumor going around that you might be... a non-believer.”


I am. “The petty and their stupid gossips.” Thera snarked, before giving a nod to her second in command who has been standing next to her for the past minute. “Are you finished?”


“Yes, ma'am!” Her second in command saluted. “We are ready to return anytime.”


Then we shall take our leave now.” Thera bowed to the cleric in front of her. “Good day, ‘mam.”


Thera and her troops went to Ashah straight away, a two-hour ride on horseback from that town they visited. They all headed straight back to the castle, a beautiful building that used to be a cathedral. They passed through the crowded streets, Thera spurred her horse and went straight toward the castle. Her troops could find their way back to their barracks. She left her horse to a soldier waiting at the front door, then as she walked inside she wondered and was trying to remember who’s in charge today or whether she need to report it directly to the Queen. Anyone was fine, as long as it was not Kira.


That girl may be the second-in-command, but she could be the first when it came to a loose screw. So blinded by her faith, drunk with prayers and mad with her belief. Oh, words could not express how much Thera hated this woman and her cronies. She never liked her, not even once. Disgusting fanaticism, and into this abyss the Queen has seemingly slipped deeper into.


Thera always talked back to her, never listened or obeyed her orders, despite knowing that she was making enemies. Which she was fine with, she was not looking to befriend those kinds of people anyway. Believing in something is important, but giving in too much has never been a good thing.


In silence, Thera continued to walk inside the quiet hallway.

 

[Crucified Fear]

Blood splattered on to the floors like red raindrops. Every thunderous crack of bone on bone enticing a chorus of cathartic chants and cheers. Kael hit the ground in a heap, his body bruised and discolored. The crescent wound above his eye bled freely, blinding him.


His chest heaved with every labored breath. Everything felt dissascotiative. He could hear the crowd that encircled him screaming for him to get up. Demanding it. Commanding him to win. Failure and their loss of profits wouldn't be tolerated. They might as well been a million miles away, their noise just a dull roar. Like a burgeoning headache.


He could feel the various minerals and particles that littered the filthy floor digging into his skin. But all that mattered was the pounding in his skull. His head spun, and without even looking, he could tell the mammoth Nomasdae man he had been matched against was boasting to the crowd.


Kael had to take it one step at a time. Even getting to a knee felt like a monumental victory. Up, you Kildran bastard! Fight! You pathetic little pink man! He wasn't the most popular man in Libertia, and was only moderately tolerated at Wenzo's, a large tavern in Jakkas Crossing known for its cheap booze, cheaper women, and the front runner for "Combat Entertainment."


Kael felt fingers clasp around his throat and force him to his feet. It was possible the former Kildran commander had bit off a bit more than he could chew. He had dispatched his first three opponents for the night with a distinct ease. And then he met Borde. He wasn't sure if Borde was a first or last name, all that mattered was the hulking beast was kicking Kaels ass.


"I know you and your family, Kildran. I hear your father begged for his life before they yanked off his tiny pink Kildran cock."


Kaels face contorted into one of rage. Anger tore at the lines in his face, and he reached for the man's throat, like a child trying to get his favorite toy back from an older sibling. Bonde just laughed, tossing him to the ground like a doll.


"You're a failure. A disgrace. A stain on the history of your people," Bonde snorted, and soiled Kael more with a loogey from deep in his throat, that stuck in Kaels hair, "I'll be doing Kildra a favor in killing yo--"


Kael had pushed himself to a kneeling position. Before Bonde could finish his thoughts Kael bounced to his feet unleashing an unholy hell of a kick into Bondes crotch, enticing a loud and long "Oohhhhhh" from the crowd. Kael wasn't happy with castration via trauma, however. As Bonde doubled over, Kael dropped the point of his elbow into the bridge of his nose, shattering it with a loud crack.


Bonde fell to his side, one hand tending to his crotch, the other his face. Kael sent kicks and stomps on violent succession. The once raucous crowd had been silenced. The only sounds were sloppy and sickly wet smacks with the occasional crunch. Kael stopped when he heard sobbing. Eyes scanned the crowd for the Asshole indecent enough to bring a child in a place of such destitute, not making an effort to hide his surprise when the source was Bonde himself.


Kael turned from the sack of flesh he left on the ground, and made for the bar, a sea of people parting for him. Nearly collapsing on the bar, he grabbed a cup, slamming it in front of the bartender.


"I don't want to see the bottom of this tonight, understand?"


The tender did indeed.


This went on for hours. Kael drained drink after drink, most of which were bought for him. He spent a good deal of time telling old war stories to bar whores, who in return told him how brave he was, pressing wet clothe to his wounds.


But eventually he had to pay for his own drinks. The whores filed out to find other lonely men with deep pockets, and all that was left was Kael and his bottle. The bartender was closing up the shop, a barmaid on her hands and knees scrubbing away blood from the floor.


Kael thought the vibrations were just in his head. A side effect of cheap whiskey. The rumbles grew louder and more violent, until the whiskey sloshed out of his glass. Kael stood, trading looks with the bartender, and headed for the door.


Now it was screams that owned the night. They burst through the door into the street, Smoke rose in billowing pillars, the soft orange glow of destruction polluting the once serene night sky.


It didn't take long to hone in on the attacker. It was more beast than man, and obviously had none of its humanity in tact, if it ever had any at all. It was building some sort of pyre, stacking bodies atop of bodies.


The thing was dragging two fully grown men now, their heads clenched in his massive palms, red chunks oozing between the spaces of his knuckles. Kael wanted to intervene. He wanted to say something heroic and give the beast a true lesson in humanity and decency.


All he managed was a half hearted "Hey!" followed by a murmered oh, fuck me when the beasts incandescent eyes locked into him.

 

[King Ad Rock]

Joint post with

@noremac

~~~

99 red balloons floating in the summer sky

Panic bells, it's red alert

There’s something here from somewhere else

The war machine, it springs to life

Opens up one eager eye

Focusing it on the sky

As 99 red balloons go by.

~~~
 
​

It was fresh in his mind like it was only yesterday. Two figures stood in a small clearing in the Swazi Forest facing each other. A young man, Ziek himself years ago, was facing off against an older Nomasdae fellow, his mentor Syler Hazule, in one of his first of many sparring matches. He was just a child then, his scars and muscles from years of battle and training were absent. His hair was the shortest it had ever been, cut close to his scalp and not yet grown out and unkempt. Gone were the darkened skin and bags under his eyes from countless sleepless nights. Standing there was a boy with his whole life ahead of him.


Syler was moving around a stationary Ziek. He was a bald, dark skinned man with contemplative features. Dressed in various trinkets, small weapons, and pouches; his life as a traveler was quite evident.


The memory played out perfectly clear in Ziek’s unconscious mind.


The young Ziek gripped the handle of the short sword in his palms tightly with both of his hands. He pointed the freshly sharpened tip towards Syler who was quickly sidestepping in a large circle around him. The Swazi forest was quiet in the humid night. Dripping with sweat from the heat, a single bead ran down his forehead while Ziek watched as the lantern illuminated the elder warrior in the darkness, accentuating his fluid dance-like movements. His long brown traveling jacket fluttered around his waist with the slight breezes that came through. Twirling between Syler’s fingers was his cane, ready to strike his student without hesitation. He was both mesmerizing and terrifying to Ziek.


Ziek kept his emerald eyes focused intently on Syler, waiting for his moment patiently. And then, there it was, a small opening in his defense. The young trainee lunged forward as quickly as he could and with all of his strength, just like Syler had instructed. There was no yelling out this time. No giving forewarning to his attack. He had learned from his previous mistakes, but still the blade only caught thin air as Syler stepped smoothly to the side at just the last second. The weight of the blade pulled Ziek’s arms down as it got further from his body. He felt his stance weaken and the sudden cut of air, as he knew what came next.


THWACK!


Ziek’s senses were heightened as he felt the biting sting of the tip of Syler’s cane across his cheek. A small but deep gash appeared, almost as if from nothing. Warm blood trickled down his face. The boy cried out loudly in surprise, pain, and anger. Syler called to him, while never stopping his movement,


“That was too pitifully slow young one. Try again.”


“Cocky piece of-“


“Fuck you, old man! I’m going to fuckin’ kill you!” Ziek answered in fury, He swung to his left at a horizontal angle with a wild stroke. Syler was there one instant, and gone the next as the short blade swiped the air yet again. This time, the response came too quick for Ziek’s eyes to catch. Only the slight whistle of the cane cutting through the air let him know he was about to feel that familiar pain once again.


THWACK!


This strike caught Ziek right between his eyes and left a much more open and serious wound. He would bear this scar for the rest of his life. More crimson red blood poured down his face as he brought both his hand up to cover it, dropping the sword to ground.


“You will not be killing anything if you continue to move like that, young one. Quite honestly, I’m surprised you caught our dinner tonight.” Ziek could feel the rage building up inside of him from Syler’s taunts. The numerous lacerations on his face and arms from the excessive lashes of Syler’s cane did not help matters. Pulling his hands from his face, he inspected the blood that had pooled into his palms. His sight and attention then switched to the sword in the dirt, just a couple of feet in front of him.


With a flurry of action Ziek dove for the short blade, and upon retrieving it, hacked desperately at Syler’s feet with every intention of cutting his toes off. The sword’s edge only chewed away at earth though, with Syler’s graceful leap out of harm’s way and over Ziek’s head. Panicked, Ziek spun around hoping to dodge or deflect the inevitable strike that was coming, but it was too late. The whistle was coming. Another familiar sting came to his already swollen cheek as his head jerked to the left and blood flew from his mouth.


THWACK!

~~~

​

A large and scabbed palm connected to Ziek’s right cheek with a deafening slap. The pain and sudden surprising sensation brought him back to the present. Keeping his eyes closed, he tried to get an idea of his situation while feigning unconsciousness. He could feel his body was covered in small, drying cuts, and his mouth was full of the recognizable taste of copper. The ground and leaves beneath him felt slightly wet, possibly with his own urine. It was not the first time Ziek had awoken with no memory of the night before and in questionable physical condition.


He swore he could smell smoke.


Ziek tried to listen closely to get an idea of how many people were around him. There was a slight breeze, but it was only barely touching him so he knew four or more people surrounded him. It was at that moment that he felt one of the men slip a hand behind his head, and begin to pour some kind of intensely strong alcohol down his throat. The never forgotten taste of “Fire-Water” filled his mouth, throat, and sinuses. It was all Ziek could do to not choke back up the burning liquid and give away his awareness. Before he knew it, he found himself gulping down the fiery drink. Then one of the men spoke,


"There's no gold, captain."


“Oh fuck, they’re robbing me. Did I spend all my gold? I think I spent all my gold. Fuck you guys. Pour more of that shit down my throat.”


Another more authoritative voice answered the first one, “Whatever, stick around then, looks like he's waking. Give him some more grog."


“You heard the man, more Grog.” Ziek felt the change in the air and knew another strike and attempt at waking him was coming. His mind sent the signal to his right arm to catch the opposing swat, but all that returned was acute agony from up and down his shoulder as his arm remained unresponsive. He had felt this before and knew that his shoulder was severely dislocated. Then came the slap.


THWACK!


“MOTHERFUCKER!” Ziek made a mental note to slap the ever-living shit out of whoever it was hitting him at the moment.


Now a third voice came into hearing protesting the one with seeming authority, "but he already-"
 


"Izem, hit Rat instead. And give me his flask." Was the leader’s only answer. Some kind of scuffle commenced between the others and a slap, this time not Ziek’s face, rang out.


"Brown nosed, mother fu-“ answered one of the voices. More slapping could be heard again. Ziek was beginning to question what kind of bumbling idiots were trying to rob him. Then he felt the familiar breeze of the incoming strike. This time Ziek raised his left arm with swiftness and caught his striker’s wrist before he could make contact. Forcing his swollen eyes open to finally look upon his muggers, Ziek choked out,


“Stop. Slappin’. Me.”


The man who was slapping Ziek yanked his wrist from Ziek’s grasp. He had a round and very dark face with wild, bloodshot eyes that were full of expression. He smelled horrible. Or maybe that was Ziek. "Good morning, Ziek." He answered with a large grin on his face. "You're lucky I happen to be a doctor, of sorts." How did he know his name? It was at that moment that Ziek had a flashback to the night before.


The quick scene that played out in his mind’s eye showed him standing on the tavern’s countertop, kicking his feet into the air and wrapping his flailing, drunken arms around several men’s neck’s while screaming out, “I’M ZIEK SIDANE, THE KING OF DANCE!” And that’s how you keep a low profile. Ziek winced to himself inwardly at his moronic behavior.


"Don't start with your amputation jokes Iz." retorted the authoritative voice. Ziek adjusted his focus and looked to his right. The voice was coming from a lighter skinned Nomasdae man of average height with short black hair. Judging by his stance and demeanor, Ziek could tell this was who was in charge of this motley crew. He tried to remember the man from the night before, but nothing clear was coming to him.


There was two other Nomasdae man standing around him as well, in a semi circle. The entire group reeked of booze. They didn’t seem like your typical Libertian bandits, but certainly had a questionable moral air about them. "Need a drink?" The leader stated while handing Ziek a flask.


“At least they’re polite thieves.” Ziek thought to himself while straining to sit up and take yet another sip from the alcoholic beverages.


The pain was almost too excruciating as he did everything in his power from crying out. He counted several broken ribs on his right side. He could breathe fine though, and that’s what was most important. The man who was slapping Ziek, the one who the leader called "Iz” was now combing the forest floor for sticks.


"We saw your flying tree...Is this how you usually travel? Some would pay well for such technology." joked the leader. For the first time, he smiled a big toothy grin as if his crew did not just have their hands deep in Ziek’s pockets. No, this was not a man to trust. Ziek smiled back.


“What the fuck are you talkin’ bout?

~~~

​

"I'm talkin'bout how one minute you're partying it up in the Hole, next yer fucking flying on a fuckin tree," As Adam spoke, Izem ripped a piece of cloth from Rat's already ragged shirt. Rat did not resist; one eye swollen, the little man's spirits seemed to have been broken at the taking of his grog. "We all heard that scream..." The thought made Adam shiver.


"You want me to fix that?" Izem cut in, gesturing at Ziek's right shoulder. The carpenter was already reaching for Ziek's wrist and forearm.


Adam squat down so that he was eye to eye with Ziek, "What ever was in those woods I figured it was best to find the tree and try to piece out what happened. Since you seem to have been involved, I am hoping you will cooperate." Adam smiled. His mien betrayed a hint of animosity, though his tone was innocent enough.

~~~

​

Ziek had not a clue of what the strange robber was babbling about. Try as he might, he could not bring up one clear memory of the night before. Just then, another fragmented memory unfurled in his head. A feeling of extreme panic and drunkenly climbing a tall corl was all he could recall. Was this what the man was inquiring about? What the hell was he doing the night before? What did he drink?


Before Ziek could give him an answer the leader would accept; Iz, who had stated he was some kind of doctor, grabbed Ziek by his right wrist and forearm and gave it an abrupt and forceful jerk, snapping his shoulder back into place with a sickeningly loud click.


As the morning hours crept in and chased away the night and stars, Ziek cocked his head back and let an ear-piercing cry of pain and cursing into the fresh jungle morning.


“FUUUUUUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUUUCK! Not even a warning, you piece of Tral-el shit!?” Ziek spat on the ground as his eyes watered and fumed at Iz. The pain was tremendous and almost unbearable. After the burning in his shoulder had finally subsided to a dull ache, he realized the foul smelling man had actually helped him out quite a bit. He did not want to have to do that himself. The injured man muttered a half hearted, “Thanks” as he rested his weary head back against what felt like some kind of rock or stump.


Izem rolled back onto his haunches. "Now you gotta pay me. If you don't pay the doc, he might not patch you up so good next time." Izem smirked and eyed the flask.


Ziek ignored the drunk and turned his attention back to his questioner.


“Cooperate with you guys helping yourselves to the contents of my pockets? Guess I didn’t have much choice in that matter, now did I?” Ziek asked sarcastically while raising his bloodstained eyebrows. “Now I know the fuckin’ so-called doctor over here is Iz? Now, who are you good sirs?” The mocking tone in his inflection was obvious. The leader was about to give his answer and finally give Ziek his and the other’s names, when he was cut off by a womanly scream in the distance. He turned back to Ziek and the others with a concerned look.


"Obviously wasn’t me that time.” Ziek replied playfully.


He swore he could smell smoke.

 

[Dabtastic Shenanigans]

@Lakita
​

 
​

They had to be close by now. Patches of grass were beginning to reveal themselves from under all the T'Odis snow that blanketed the area. However, the crisp night air was still unforgivably cold. Working its way down a long dirt road, a simple trade caravan was approaching the massive T'Odis Gate. This small horse drawn carriage had definitely seen better days. Made of aging wood, the withered structure cracked and creaked with every bump. It's canopy was riddled with different rips and tears. Many of which were crudely stitched and patched. A small lantern hung from one the top beams and created a warm dim glow. Boxes and bags of spices and wares filled the cabin, and crowded together six passengers were resting. Each on their way to the border.


Vanse sat silently in the back where he found a small nook to plant himself in. He wanted to try and stay as hidden as possible. He long abandoned his knights armor he once felt so much pride in. Instead traded, for an old hooded cloak and mask. Underneath, he wore a small leather chest piece and a couple of gauntlets for added protection and insulation. The other merchants sat quietly minding their own. There wasn't anything too particular about them, except for a young Kildran woman and a rather large bellied man next to her. Vanse heard her make a small whisper, which caught his and the man's attention.


"Whudderya talkin' bout ova dere?" The man had a tiny sense of whimsy to his voice as he inquired the girl. His voice pitching slightly behind his sluggish words. She simply grabbed and pulled her furs tight and responded with an abrupt,


"Nothing."


Vanse's eyes drifted from them to the night sky just viewable from the carriage's rear opening. There wasn't a single cloud in site as millions of tiny lights that decorated the heavens. A wave of sadness slowly enveloped him. This was his home, he swore to protect it, but now he was leaving and he could never go back. His gaze went from star to star trying to make out the constellations he found as a boy. Suddenly, in the vast darkness, among all the tiny specks of light, another appeared. The star gazer's eyes widened. His heart began to race as his breathing became heavier. He quickly looked over and fixated on another spot of darkness in the sky. Every second felt like an eternity at this point . The smell of burning tobacco filled his nostrils with every long deep breath. The carriage made a small turn and the canopy's flaps obstructed his view. He pushed himself up slight with his hands and found the spot again. And in it, another light appeared. This time slightly brighter and almost flickering. Vanse dropped back down into his seat and just stared ahead in space silently.


It was over. They were so close but there was no way they could make it out now. It was only a matter of moments and all they could do was wait. He looked over at his fellow passengers once more. He knew what was going to happen and feared for their safety. It was clear they were completely unaware of their impending danger. His eyes fell on the Kildran woman who was now staring back at him. She was young , maybe in her early twenties. Her dark brown hair and a rosy complexion were hard to make out in the dim lighting. She quickly turned away after he noticed her and let out a small crack in her neck. Surprisingly, she began to speak again to the large man she shrugged off just moments before.


"Uhmm… you are a merchant, yes?" The merchant, falling asleep, stirred and quickly propped himself up when she spoke.


"Oiyem, yessumm, Miss, quite right, quite right! I, why, aim be selling mayh wares for um, um, since I be a young lad meself, no dou-"


"Uhm, yes. Yes, I felt like you were going to say that."


He took a long drag from his pipe before she continued. "So! You probably traveled all around the world, yes? Ha-"


"Ahhh, awcous, awcouse! Aimbeen awll ovuh, frum da mounteens o’Teeawdis to da deserts o’In… In… well, whuever ees cawled. Lemme tellyuh summin, wance I eve-"


"-sease, like it free-"


"-uwnd, lil’ gal like yaself ne’er e’er been owut en aboot, naow dee-"


"SHUT UP!" Another merchant Vanse thought was sleeping suddenly jumped up and held a skinny arm up at the two to silence them. He then used his other arm to point outside. "Lookit that… the Night Eyes of T’Odis." Vanse was already well aware of the 100 foot structure they were approaching.


"What is it?" The girl whispered.


"The guard towers… they can see everything in the country that moves." He wasn't completely wrong. Each tower was equipped with a massive bonfire ready to be burned at a moments notice. When lit they light up the night and allow one to easily see for miles. With dozens of them lining the eastern and western borders to the lawless lands, there was no way anyone could pass without being seen right away. That's why the gate was his best bet. He had to get as far from T'Odis as possible. It was his only chance of survival.


"T’aint good ter pass by, lass, ‘specially annight. ‘Tis a bad omen for us merchants." This is especially true, since Vanse already saw two towers light up in the far distance. The cabin grew silent as they trudged passed the ominous construct. After a few eternal minutes you could feel the tension lift as it slowly began to fade off into the night.


"Is it safe?" She asked.


"All’s waell. All’s waell. S’long as eet’s nawt on fire, all’s waell."


"On fire?"


"S’course! ‘Ow else arryegonna usem?" He's right it wasn't on fire yet. Maybe they still had a chance. The tower's fires were also used as signals. When L'Aorn needs to close the gate in an emergency they light a giant tower in the capitol. From there the first border towers to see the flame are to light their towers. After which each tower begins lighting their fires in a dominoe effect down the borderlines until the T'Odis Gate guards see it and know to close the gate.


There was a brief moment of peace. Everyone began to settle down as the carriage continued its stride. But then, not far off, loud neighing broke the silence. Vanse almost jumped to his feet as every head turned to look outside. Somehow a horde tracked him down, and coming at them, at a breakneck pace, were nine horsemen. Each horse was a monster of a beast, twice the size of the two regular steeds that pulled them. They were specially breed for their riders, and like them, were fully decorated in glistening armor. Suddenly, the tower they had just passed burst into flames, and light filled almost everything in sight.


"The Night Eyes! They are open!" Yelled the man who pointed the tower out.


"Ride! Ride! Git dose ‘orses a’movin’, dammit!" Demanded the fat man, finally speaking some sense. The driver cracked his whip and the caravan burst forth with speed. Everyone held on as tight as they could to keep from falling out. Vanse was standing in the back. His left hand held firmly on one the canopy's support beams and his right on a nearby shelf.


"Hey! I think they’re catching up! Go faster, guys!" Yelled the girl. Boxes and wares were flying everywhere while the merchants held down what they could. Despite the scared cries of the passengers, the crashing and banging of the wagon, and all the flying merchandise. Vanse heard almost perfectly the horde captain yell out in T'Odis,


"Kyhh glan ehh (Kill them all)." Their pursuers, like a pack of organized wolves, divided into three groups of three. Two groups rode up to the caravan from both sides, while the third closed in from the rear. He didn't understand. These people were innocent, he was the one they were after. So why kill them also? Normally a horde should be trying to stop the carriage so they can arrest him. Not attack it and everyone in it. They began stabbing at the speeding structure in almost perfect synchronicity . Wooden splinters were flying everywhere while blade after blade pierced the carriage. One managing to nick ex-knight's shoulder before he could dodge it in time.


"Gettem off!" Yelled the driver as he jerked and pulled his reigns. The Kildran girl tumbled into some furs and called out to the terrified passengers.


"What?! What?! Help me, you guys!" Vanse tried to reach out a hand, but the carriage started to tilt on two wheels, and quickly slammed back down. Knocking everyone around once more. "Fine, give me my crossbow!" She called out again.


"Right ye’re, no prob-"


"Here, give it here, just give it!" With all their swords finally gone the horde must have pulled back on their assault, but Vanse was still worried about what they would do next. He watched the fat old merchant struggled to hand the girl her weapon. So he quickly grabbed the bow and passed it to her. He then watched, actually slightly impressed, as she managed to prop herself up and load it. She pulled it up to her shoulder and took aim. But, right when she pulled the trigger, a sudden shock knocked her over and sent the bolt flying way off course.


"I can see the gates! Aren’t even closed yet!" The driver cried out. The girl hollard proudly, but Vanse looked out of a tear and saw a knight advance to the front of the carriage. He knew what was coming next, and he quickly braced himself. A blade sunk into the canopy, killing a passenger before-


schwip


Like he predicted, they cut the carriages ties to the horses and they lost control. Veering off the road, they ran up a small hill and lifted into the air. Crashing straight into ground. The rickety caravan was no more. Wood, wares, and bodys were thrown everywhere. Vanse found himself hitting the ground at an angle, sliding across the snow. He tried picking himself back up, but a horseman bolted over, grabbed him by his hood, and dragged him across the ground. He was suddenly released and he tumbled to a stop. Battered and bruised, the Ex-knight somehow found the strength to slowly get to his feet. He looked around at the 9 horseman who Surrounded him, some getting off their horses and drawing their swords. His eyes quickly found the captain who stood ahead of him proudly mounted on his steed. His helmet hid most of his features, but Vanse recognized that crooked smile anywhere.


"Riktor A'sari," He muttered weakly between breathes. The captain's smile grew, as if gaining pleasure from hearing his name. He opened his mouth and began speaking in T'Odis.


"Vanse D'enishora," His voice was deep and raspy. He spoke his prey's name slow and condescendingly. As if he was about to give him a scolding. He looked over at the collossal gate, now almost halfway closed and laughed.


"Iuo ehnusg neba yg uug. Yg's e slena, dog pa puuhb lefa tuma uug uun vuumb iuo afamgoehhi. (You almost made it out. It's a shame, but we would have gone out and found you eventually.)" He drew his sword, the tip aimed at Vanse.


"Weym ym ni ess, gleg puohb da, ekoehhi, weym ym ni ess iuo eheis daam. Drymt iuo ym ehyfa, Y pes glymkymt. Dog kyhhymt iuo, pyhh segysvi na. (And that would have been a real pain in my ass. Come to think of it, you've always been a pain in my ass. I was thinking about turning you in alive, maybe get myself a nice promotion, but killing you would be so much more satisfying.)" Vanse drew his sword and shouted back.


"Peyg! Y banemb e kundeg gryeh! (Wait! I demand a trial by combat!)" Riktor burst out in laughter.


"Vyrsg, iuor rohas pa bumg whei. Y bumg kmup lup iuo kyhhab Xhane M'lam uun uglar kmytlgs.(First of all, we don't play by your rules. I don't know how you did it, but you killed Xhane M’Iam and your entire horde.)" Black ominous clouds began to fill the sky, and suddenly a darkness almost like no other creeped across the landscape. The captain continued, "pli puohb pa klemsa uma eteymsg uma? (What makes you think we would take any chances fighting you one on one?)" The darkness finally reached them and Riktor gave one last command before being overtaken by it.


"Eggekk, afariuma!(Everyone, attack!)"


And almost instantly Vanse and the other knights were swallowed by the darkness right as they began to charge at him. Using the storm to his advantage, he managed to duck past two of his attackers and quickly pierced a third in the chest. After kicking him away and pulling his sword out lightning struck and revealed two other knights he wasn't aware of simultaneously striking down at him. He lifted his sword at the last second and caught both blades. Their swords crossed against his, and sparks lit their faces as he struggled to hold them both back. He quickly pulled back, and rolled between the two. He then flipped his weapon upside down and stabbed backwards. Catching deep into the side of the man to his left. Pulling his blade out and spinning around, he swung down hard on the shoulder of his other attacker. Then, hearing footsteps rushing up from behind, the swordsman turned and swung upwards, feeling his metal connecting with jawbone. There was nothing but a loud gargle as he heard a body tumble pass him to the ground. Lightning struck again, revealing everyone's positions. Vanse grabbed an oblivious knight in front of him from behind and thrust his sword into his back. As he collapsed to the ground, a third strike showed the final four staring directly as him. They stood almost one behind the other with Riktor farthest to the back. At once they all charged at Vanse, and blackness returned. He kicked one knight back and swung his sword horizontally to cut her throat. Then slashed another's legs after ducking a swing. Still crouched, he rolled backwards, barely dodging another incoming strike. The sword hit the ground only a few inches in front of him, as he sprung to his feet, jumped forward, and cut down his semi-final opponent.


A final strike of lightning confirmed Riktor and Vanse to be the last one's standing. they lunged at each other and with incredible speed, sparks flew everywhere as their weapons repeatedly connected and knocked away. When he found the perfect chance, Vanse swung at the last second to the captain's elbow and cut off his arm mid swing. He screamed and stumbled backwards. His sword and ass hit the ground as he grabbed at his bloody stump, and without hesitating, Vanse ran forward and stabbed down into his chest.


The storm began to fade as quickly as it started. It was unlike anything Vanse had ever seen. The moon light shown off the wet crimson snow, revealing the bloody scene. He stood silently in a moment of shock. He wiped blood from his forehead and looked at it on his hand. Not knowing if it was his or theirs. The nine armored bodies were too hauntingly familiar. He began to remember his old horde and the night they tried to kill him, but trumpets in the distance snapped him back to the present. Reinforcements were coming. He turned to the gate and saw it was only three quarters closed. If he ran, he could possibly make it through. He took a step forward, but heard a voice.


"Please," it groaned, "help me. Don't leave me! Help me!" The Ex-knight looked over and saw the Kildran girl laying among the wreckage still alive. He ran over and noticed her holding her chest. She probably broke a rib, he thought. He knelt down in front of her and pulled her arms around his shoulders.


"Hold on!" He called back to her. She gripped him tightly as he grabbed her legs and sprinted forward to the gate. He ran as fast as he could, each step more desperate than the last. At this point the gate was almost completely closed. He ducked down as much as he could, ran underneath it and leapt, just barely clearing the massive gate before it slammed closed behind them. They did it. They actually made it out of T'Odis. Vanse was on his back trying to catch his breath, while the girl lay a few feet from him holding her ribs. He slowly got up, walked over to her, took a knee, and put a hand on her shoulder. "Are you going to be okay?" She weakly nodded.


"I think so." She managed to utter. A horse whinnied, and both of their heads shot forward. In front of them, to their surprise, eating some grass only about ten feet away, was one of the caravan horses. They heard another trumpet, this time much closer.


"Kuna um. (Come on.)" Vanse whispered as he helped her back up and brought her to the horse. He put her on the back, climbed on himself, and they took off.

~~~

​

Back on the other side of the gate. Not too long after their escape. A second justice horde arrived and were instantly shocked by the destruction around them. Their captain removed her helmet and revealed herself to be a beautiful young woman. Her long white hair pulled back tightly, her frost white complexion complimented her cold and emotionless face.


"Kewgeym! (Captain!)" A female knight called out. She rode up next to her leader.


"symtha sag uv grekks Y vuomb, glai haeb gu tega. Y en surri askewa la nosg. (I found a single set of tracks leading to the gate. I'm sorry to say he must of escaped.)" The captain grit her teeth, and squeezed her reigns tightly.


"I pemg iuo gu qouasgyum toerbs. Vymb pleh lewwamab lara axekghi. (I want you to question the guards. Find out exactly what happened here.)" She ordered. "Uun sunauma tag gu guw uv tega. Tag glys benm tega uund tag glys uwam mup! (And someone get to the top of that gate and get this damn thing open now!)"

 

[Spacing Out]

Seraphina Aeritheos



Seraphina walked with three guards in the vacate halls, making her way to the horse stable to receive her horse.the Ashah square was only a mile from the Castle however she wanted to arrive in haste, she had other things to attend to. She wished she had time to refreshen up. she didn't feel that it was appropriate to roam the palace covered in blood and ashes however, she maintained her supercilious stride.

Everything seemed in order as she observed her surroundings until she saw a woman with a hood traipsing around making her way to the same destination, instantly she knew who it was.

"Ah Ranaria, I see you had your little hunting trip with your pet chicken."she remarked with a devilish smirk. She was trained by her mother to be polite to everyone even enemies at a young age, not to be two face but to show that she was refined. However the pretentious heathen seemed to be the exception. Seraphina's hatred for her was known due to the fact that she declared it to the maiden numerous times before. Seraphina decided to malign her more, it was quite entertaining.

"You didn't bring an animal souvenir? Probably just shoot down an animal for no reason and left it there. Didn't give it to the chef to prep it for a meal, skin it to make a fur coat, or even beheaded it to use as decor. I thought a queen was suppose to have solicitude... I guess I was wrong." She didn't stop walking as she spoke, she needed to report to captain Janer immediately.

"Speaking of the Queen, how is your plan of calming down the prophet? I'm sure you have the situation handled." She inquired with sarcasm. She knew well enough that the Queen wasn't going to be convinced to stop anytime soon by the likes of her, only Miranda had that power. She wasn't sure what Ranaria was good for anyways. Gayana broke the law of inheriter just for that mere girl and yet she didn't see any potential. Maybe she did but not in the areas where it was needed.Either way the deed was done and there was nothing left to say. Ranaria's Responses would only be given slight scoffs and furrowed brows.

 
​

 

[Crucified Fear]

Garnerge released the mangled bodies he had twisted in his hands like they were clay. A wall of smoke momentarily veiled the monsters body behind it, leaving nothing but it's hulking silhouette and the two red rocks in its skull it called eyes. Kael had been around. He had seen some shit. He had heard stories of sea creatures which size was truly incomprehensible. But Kael had never dreamed he would come across a beast such at this.


It wasn't the behemoths size or power that unsettled him, but it's pathological desire and lust for carnage. It was his complete lack of any semblance of conscience. Garnarge reached down and plucked one of the dead men's ears off his head like it was a daisy, tossing it into his mouth and lazily chewing, that blood soaked smile never leaving his lips. Like a shark.


"Are you going to inquire about me, creature?" Garnarge snorted with sarcasm.


Kael didn't answer for a few moments. He could hear wood crackle as flame ate away at it, dissolving homes into ash. He could hear the screams of Jakka's Crossing. Some in fear. Some in agony. Finally, he could hear the beast let out a low bellow of a chuckle from time to time. Like it was a child's game.


Kael would show him this was no game. "Do wolves ask the name of the sheep they prey on?"


Garnerge howled with laughter. Kael calmly reached behind his shoulders with both hands and unsheathed both of his Scimitars from their scabbards.


"You think you are different...Think you matter..small creatures... with your pointy metal sticks..." Garnerge's sentence structure was rudimentary at best, but he managed to get his point across. Kael shrugged off his words and stalked at a cautious pace at first.


Garnerge followed suit, matching Kael's pace. They sped up to a jog, and finally a full on war charge. Kael could feel the ground shaking, as if Azae was struggling to support this abomination that had invaded it. Garnerge let out his otherworldly battle cry a moment before he reared back to strike, his arms raising above his head to pummel down onto Kael.


The beast had widened his base, giving Kael his opening. Kael had let out his own cry, which was drowned out by Garnerge. Kael dropped down to a knee, and leaned backwards, sliding on a mixture of soot and mud. He glided between Garnerge's legs, slashing his blades the monsters ankles as he did.


Garnerge let out a few grunts of confusion as he went to walk and had nothing but stumps at the end of his legs. He collapsed to all fours, gritting his blood stained teeth.


Kael had not been a soldier for years now, but the killer instinct he possessed never went away. It was a part of him. He wasted no time coming up behind the creature and thrusting his blade through the back of its skull. Garnerge's eyes were wide with surprise. The blade had sprouted out of his mouth, slicing his lip in half and forcing a few teeth to splinter and bend outwards.


The blade shrieked as he pulled it back, the steel scraping the bone of Garnerge's teeth and skull. The beast fell face first into the mud.


Kael turned his back to Garnerge. The villagers had begun to come out of their hiding. Kael did his best to smile and and assure them things would be fine. Never the same. That was a lie even he wouldn't peddle.


Kael was too preoccupied playing hero that his senses and instincts failed him. If it wasn't for his battle rust he may have noticed the the stumps he made out of Garnerges legs scab over at an accelerated rate, the creatures body producing and building cells at an unfathomable rate. Two small buldges began to grow from the center of the stumps, contorting and twisting until they resembled feet.


The back of his head also began to close up, the large split down the middle of his bottom lip closing, strings of flesh melding together seamlessly. Overly damaged teeth simply fell away so replacements could take their place.


The feet had grown to match the rest of Garnerges body, new flesh spreading out to mend to the already existing skin. Kael's heart sunk when he heard the thunder coming from the beasts chest. Could feel the ground move as he brought himself back to his feet. Kael turned only to get a large backhand that sent him flying, and skidding across the ground and into a wall.


"Impressive, creature. Maybe you ARE different..but you will still meet the same fate.."


Kael had lost his weapons sometime mid-flight. He was struggling to get back to his feet when he was simply bulldozed by a charging Garnerge, destroying the wall at the same moment. A hand clamped around his ankle and Kael tried to hold on for dear life, digging his fingers into the floor, but he was still yanked back, ripping away his nails why they were at it, and tossed like a toy and hitting the ground with a wet thud.


Garnerge approached leisurely, lifting the great foot of his and driving it into Kael's sternum. And then again. Kael coughed, blood spouting out of his mouth. Kael reached up, almost pleading with Garnerge. Kael's wrist was vice gripped, the middle finger of his hand ripped clean off. Kael howled in agony.


And his consciousness failed him.

 

[Zooks]

Rufus and Lilly

-
​

Rufus was looking at the map but he was still angry at his father behavior. Rufus couldn't change his sexuality, but he desperately wanted to have a child. However his boyfriend would be furious if he slept with a girl. I have to do it, Rufus thought as his eyes never left the Map. The Nevarro Estate was one of the biggest in the Kingdom, maybe he could join Roadalia or Libertia? Both Nations were close to his estate. Or he might be able to convince another Lord to start their own Nation. His confusion was starting to give him a headache as he noticed the little girl entering his room.


He turned to look at her and took a deep sigh, so this was his Fathers plan. He probably needed to sleep with her and become straight. He was getting more angry but saw the girl was getting cold and smiled towards her. "Your master sent you? My Father?" He asked, articulating heavy so the girl would understand him, Rufus hoped. He walked to his bed and took one of the furry blankets lying on it then walked towards the girl and laid it on her small shoulders. He walked back to his table and started to write. He had decided this was his chance to get a child and would use his Father's idiocy at trying to turn him straight to allow for it. He was worried about the girl, but he could care for her.


 


Dear Love,


I know you will be furious.


But am going to have a child soon, I hope.

----


Lilly had her sapphire blue eyes drawn to the floor but it seemed every moment that passed the cold was getting to her more and more. She pressed her lips together to try and stop the chatter of her teeth, while one hand with delicate fingers rubbed at the opposite arm gently. She didn't lift her eyes as he spoke, it was just something she was accustomed to with these Kildran Nobles, though it almost sounded like he were smiling and his voice seemed softer and more genuine then others she had been around. She nodded meekly but heard his boots stride away from her towards the bed. Still refusing to look at him he started to walk towards her now and already her whole frame seemed to tense up. Long eyelashes pressed down, wincing like she were waiting for the rough grab of her arm or yank of her hair.


Why were they always so rough?


But this time there was no rough hands, no snickers or gross smacking lip sounds like hungry animals and instead the girl's eyes widened hugely when she realized that a soft furred blanket had been draped over her shoulders. Now unable to keep her gaze lowered she finally looked up with bewilderment and shock. Again, he didn't touch her and instead moved to write a letter. Here she was naked before him, offering herself (even if not by her choice) and yet he hadn't laid a single hand on her. She was woefully confused. Hands reaching up to tug at the blanket to snuggle it around her petite frame more tightly, mostly hiding it now. "D...Do I please not, my Lord?" She offered in the same clunky dialect she had used prior.


------


Sorry, but you have to stay calm, please.


This child will be for us both, and it will be happy.


 

Rufus finished the letter and found an envelope on his desk. Rufus peeked at the girl who was still standing there. He pointed at the chair standing next to the fireplace "Please, sit down." This girl couldn't get cold, he didn't want that. The Noble's son took the letter and paced through the room. He didn't know what to do, he was getting frustrated and paced even harder. After a few minutes Rufus stepped out of his room and walked to the guards "This letter needs to be delivered at Lord Sef from the Elas estate, nobody can read this, do you understand?" Rufus said with a serious voice. The guard nodded and made his way to the boys who delivered the letters. That was another thing he had to fix, Rufus thought, those boys also needed to be warm. The cold got to them just as much as everyone else.... maybe, when he took over from his Father.


Rufus couldn't calm down and began to bite his nails. Nail biting was a thing Rufus did when he was really frustrated. Rufus didn't wanted to hurt the girl and nearly collapsed when he heard the girl asking if her presence still pleased him. He sat down on the ground and started crying, he wanted Sef to be here... He could give him some good advice and teach him how to have some fun. But, Sef was busy with his own things in his own Castle. Rufus stood up and walked to his desk, he hunted around till he found a small bag with some dried leaves in it, Pashush, he rolled it in a small piece of paper and walked to the fireplace to light it. Rufus walked to the window and opened it , Pashush did after all have a nasty smell. Rufus sat down on the window sill and took a pull from it. The smoke went to his lungs and the Noble's son started to become more relaxed. Rufus threw the drugs out of the window figuring if someone saw it they would probably think a page would secretly smoke. He did double check though to see nobody saw him as he finally approached over the girl.


-----


Lilly watched him finish his letter, and judging by his shaking movements and the very way his fingers and wrists moved to write it, it must have been very important. He was so nervous it leeched from his very frame. And when he asked her to sit down, she found herself automatically heading that way to sit on the very edge closest to the fire. Her blue eyes flicking to the embers before back to him. His pacing was leaving her lost for words, and ultimately he started to remind her of one of her older brothers when she was younger. Worrying about his next hunting trek.


Why was he so nervous?


It dawned on her it may have even been possible he had never done this before, though that seemed unlikely at his age. Though as the man collapsed to the ground she instantly stood up from her seat hand half outstretched. Worry flooding her frame now, worry she had not felt since she had arrived to Kildran. "Lord?" She asked in a genuinely concerned voice. Again he was up, taking himself to the window sil with some bad smelling herb the locals here seemed to enjoy. She often found the Nobles who had bought her use it, though she had never done so herself. Finally he seemed to approach her after all the pacing and fidgeting and the girl only looked up meekly to him. "What Lord does wish?" She replied in that same dialect. Though her words continued softly in her own language and unable for him to understand.


"Byb Y bu sunaglymt prumt?"


"(Did I do something wrong?)"


-------


"Well Girl, don't talk to your superiors in your own language!" Rufus said to the young slave, in an aggressive, condescending tone. You see, Pashush had a very special effect on him, he was getting turned on and he became very controlling. "Well Girl," he said firmly to her, "Come here to me!" Rufus started slowly undressing; first his shirt, then his pants as he laid down on his bed "So, stop standing there and give me the child I want!"


Rufus's whole personality has changed, from the nice and caring guy from moments ago, to an aggressive horny beast. A soft voice spoke in his mind, which sounded like Sef.


'Rufus, you don't have to do this, we can figure it out! Be the man you are; kind, caring and in love with men.' Rufus sighed as another voice spoke in his mind 'You need to do this, the Girl is just a slave, you need to do her.'


Rufus took another heavy sigh as he and looked to the girl. "Come here, and do your thing." He said as he closed his eyes pretending Sef was there with him, instead.


-----


Lilly peered up to him through the long strands of her snow white hair. She still had that confused and concerned look on her face as he approached, his whole attitude was simply unusual from what she was used to. Of course that almost completely changed as he spoke up in a commanding tone with that degrading context laced through it. She almost instantly winced as her shoulders drew together, clasping her hands in a nervous manner as her gaze turned down and away. Waiting for the hit or grab that usually came with it.


Fear starting to work its way as a shudder through her small frame. For a moment she thought this Lord may be different, he seemed caring enough as he put the blanket on her shoulders. Maybe he only did it to keep her warm enough that her cold, small frame may not disturb him later?


She started to regret having any concern surface at all. Pulling herself into her small shell as she watched him undress, trying to mentally cut herself off from her body, like she could simply will herself to ignore it. And once he was comfortable and laying down, Lilly slowly dropped the blanket from her shoulders to slip in under the sheets of his bed with him, a sad little distance smile floating over her lips.


Her body a vessel and nothing more. To please others. That was what Slave's were for right?


She gingerly wormed her way to straddle his hips, soft fingers pressed down against his chest as she peered down to him curiously. Noting a 'lack of interest' almost immediately that had her blinking almost innocently. She wasn't really sure how to fix it either, as most of her partners were forcing themselves before she had barely made it into the doorway. Lifting a finger to gingerly bite at her knuckle in thought while she started a slow rocking motion to try to reinvigorate him. "L...lord?" She said softly.


------


Rufus sighed, did he want this? He wanted a child yes, but this? This was disgusting, this girl was so young. He kept his eyes shut as Lilly moved on his body, he could feel her petite frame was warmed up and gave a quick smile, happy that the blanket from before had worked. Rufus took her hand "Well," he explained truthfully. "I'm not used to this, I normally sleep with men.... so... Please continue and do your job." Rufus sighed, he thought of Sef, what was he doing at the moment? Did the letter reach him already? He felt Lilly moving slowly and desperately tried to think of a man rather then the soft, gentle body of the girl on top of him.


-----


Some hours had passed. Lilly had to guide him every step of the way, and with the strangest of techniques to see him satisfied, at least enough for him to see her bare his child. She coaxed him softly and gently, the whole time wondering why this Lord wanted a child so badly, to go to such lengths with something he ultimately hated doing just to see an end to the means. She could sympathize with that, her whole life in Kildran had been simply to perform degrading acts for the amusement and service of others. And while this Lord seemed to respect her marginally more so then others, his touch often times sure then a moment later jerked back in a half panic, in the end he too was using her as a vessel to assure a Blood child for him and the heir to his estate. After his muscles had tensed, fingers grasping strongly at her hips as she peered down to his face, watching it contort in ecstasy, she slowly drew her body away and to the side to rest her back to the bedhead, drawing her legs into her chest with her chin rested on her knees, peering to his form. It was only then she realized the man was sobbing. Literally breaking down crying with a hand half covering his face.


Lilly crawled over to curl up against his side now, hand resting on the square of his chest as she threw the blanket over him gently. The position oddly platonic despite both parties with an absence of clothing. "I...It's ok..." She assured him softly, caring for him now despite him being so much older, and despite what she had just gone through. None of the other Nobles had ever broken down crying. Running her fingers through his hair to try and soothe him. "It's ok..."


@Savagai

 

[bottlecap]

A jostling crowd filed into an arena, who's gates were no T'Odis mountain passages, but impressive in their own right's. The time of year had the air ripe with conversation and wealth, though the demeanor was calm and a bit nervous. The first day of Iorn's yearly festival was coming to a close. No bird's graced the city's skies, save those mothers fluttering to their young from a day of hunting to deliver their regurgitated delicacies. People were laughing and merrymaking, in their midst equal quantities of street performers, ruffians, businessmen, and even parties of Lord's and Ladies dotted the sea of dull clothes with their shining silk. This was because of the destination; the arena. It was intentionally built in the city's twentieth year of prosper to hold the entire population, and the citizens loved it so. In fact, the area had become such a center of pride in Iorn's populous that the city's guard had even stationed the bulk of their men around the perimeter wall of the location, confident that even the street gangs whom had been causing an unreasonable amount of trouble in the recent weeks wouldn't pass up tonight's event. Iorn's famous combat tournament.


Just as the sky took on it's deepest pink overhead, the last of the crowd settled into their spots. A fine breeze graced them, but in such close proximity one couldn't help but be ever so slightly uncomfortable. All in all no one seemed to mind.


"Oi, Rudford," Said a rather Sullen-looking youth with a surprisingly cheery voice. "Do ya know if the Lord's guard is going to compete this year?" he asked his companion, scanning the dark dirt ring raised just a bit above the rest of the arena by stones. Acrossed entirely the area in the pit was about two hundred yards, but the arena placed for the combat tournament was a mere fifty for fairness sake.


"Why would he, Dil? He's won it more times than we've been alive. He hasn't competed in years," Answered Rudford, a sunken eyed brutish looking boy of about fifteen, whom all his friends know has a heart of gold. "I wouldn't mind seein' 'im fight myself tho' ya got me there,"


"I saw him once!" Said a boy in front, no more than about ten.


"Yeah righ', you saw eem?" Answered Rudford with obvious disbelief.


"Honest!" Said the boy, obviously excitable from birth. "I was out at the bazaar and a bloke tried ta' snatch from me dad's stall, he did! Didn't get twenty feet before Jason was there with an arm out! Stopped 'em dead in his tracks!"


"You 'idn't see 'im fight you saw eem clothesline a thief." Said Rudford, honestly a bit let down the story wasn't even a little more genuine. "There's a fine difference between fighten' an' doin' 'is job there 'is."


"Oh and you'd know, would ya Rud?" Said Dil, giving him a jab with his elbow.


By this time the sun had completely set, the crowd now bathed in a light and soft darkness. Guards around the perimeter lit their torches, and the distinct sound of a gate being raised could be heard at the far end of the arena, just below the lord family's booth. It opened completely with no other disturbance, and the crowd grew eagerly, restlessly, wholeheartedly silent in anticipation. Suddenly four acrobats dressed in greens and reds cartwheeled out with ace skill and impressive speed. The two in the back stopped with little synchronized hops, while the two in the front finsihed with back hand springs and perfect landings. All produced three torches and flints from the folds of their outfits, striking and lighting them immediately, bathing them each in eerie and angry glows. Without delay they began to juggle, doing various more impressive maneuvers distracting the crowd while a slight hole began to open in the center of the arena. All three tossed their lit torches into the air, and immediately did back walkovers towards the center. The torches landed just as they reached the fifty meter slightly raised ring, and they each did more cartwheels until they reached their desired opening. All the while, the torches had lit the string of oil that connected the large lanterns which lined the outside of the pit, casting a satisfying glow over the area. Finally once the acrobats had disappeared into the center hole, the audience cheered in satisfaction.


The crowd roared for moments before gradually dying out. That performance was simply the appetizer at a feast. "It was pretty good, but you know what we really want." They seemed to say with their hands, and out from the opened gate it came. Jason, the Lord's right hand, walked out to various whoops and hollars from the crowd. Kindral Iornia, the lord of the city, smiled down from his booth at his right hand as he thrust his arms out from him and took in the crowd's greetings. He was large. Impossibly large. Over seven feet with a chest that could struggle to squeeze through a door frame on it's own, let alone his arms the width of the front cannons of a ship. In his hair and face could be seen his age. With a salt and pepper trimmed hair atop his head and a matching go-tee around his lips. Deep laugh lines graced the edges of his facial hair, and around his eyes crows feet could be seen prominently as he smiled from closer audience members. Jason wore no more than a set of leather trousers held up by a strand of gold chord, and a silk burgundy sash acrossed his torso. Around his brow was a metal band of gold, given to him by his lord as a gift in his second year of service when he had become captain of the city's guard.


After a bit the mood died down and the aged warrior addressed the crowd's feelings.


"WELCOME!" His booming voice had no trouble reaching the outer edges of the concaved arena. An alarmingly thick and surprisingly present T'Odis accent accompanied his words. "I will not keep you waiting. There is much to take place tonight, is there not?!" With that he received hearty "hurrah"'s and "oi"'s. "I wish luck to be with all fighters tonight. Now. Hag tenas datym!" He cried with enthusiasm, but received only confused half-cheers and looks. Realizing he had slipped into his native tongue in his excitement, he quickly corrected himself. "APOLOGIES! I AM MEANING: LET GAMES BEGIN!" He said, turning and bounding at the Lord's booth, while the crowd roared with renewed enthusiasm and some laughter. Jason leapt upward and grasped the edge of the booth firmly before hoisting himself over the side effortlessly. He dwarfed all it's other occupants, ladies of the court and a few wealthy men whom had married into the family, and took his overlarge seat next to his lord Kindral Iornia. He was a slender and wirey man, with a main of grey hair and stern eyes. Atop his own head sat a much larger circlet than Jason's, and one of obvious more value with inlet stones of garnet and ruby. He nodded to his companion as he took his place by his side.


"First challengers! Jared, from capitol of Kein, and Brael the salt!" Bellowed Jason before relaxing into his appropriate chair. Two men exited the gate Jason had entered from, and made their way to the ring with cheers from various audience members. The man on the left was of obvious Kildran descent, probably born and raised in the capitol. He held himself with a regal air like a knight would, and draped himself with silk and lennen. The man on the right wore a wide brimmed hat and rougher tunic, both of which he disguarded and tossed into the crowd to a group of young women whom shrieked happily. He was obviously a seaman, with a handsome face and short-kempt hair. The two took their places at two black lines drawn in the dirt, five meters apart from one another, and assumed their combat stances. Jared kept his body upright and his fists near his chest, whilst Brael stayed low to the ground with his fists over his face, barely giving his own eyes room to see it seemed. Jason smiled at the two, and let out a hearty "FIGHT!"


Jared stayed in his place, ready to receive whatever came to him, while Brael wasted no time. He charged his opponent with his arms in close proximity and made for a running jab at Jared's face. Jared deflected this with a forearm, and landed a knee straight into Brael's gut. This painted him with a shocked expression, which didn't last for long. He grappled Jared's leg in a swift movement, and rotated so as to take him off balance. Just as his opponent hit the ground he straddled him and unleashed a series of at least four to six blows before Jared was able to roll him off.
 


"Is good crop. Should have been downstairs, Kindral." Said Jason, watching the fight with the hint of a smile on his face.


"Yes i'm sure it was, Jason. I'd rather wait and let it be a surprise. I long for the day when we get a fighter who was half as entertaining as you were. Remember that man from Parshum who almost beat you your fourth year?" Jason scoffed at such an accusation.


"You were not watching same fight as I was in, Kindral! I remember that man losing in second round with blooded eyes!" He gave Kindral's entire chair a shake, which the nobles in the booth were startled by, but neither the Lord's guards nor he himself jumped at. This was very average behavior for their T'Odis resident. Just as Jared contacted Brael with a second knee, this time to the face, Kindral spoke again, this time chuckling.


"Maybe so. Maybe one day you'll meet your match in that arena, if you ever feel someone's worthy." Kindral raised an eyebrow at his companion and glanced out of the corner of his eye, not wanting to miss much of the fight.


"Unless Iorn attracts pure blooded T'Odis, I will never meet a match in your arena." He said this with a fist against his chest. "I fear as warriors grow stronger, I will only be a memory in the arms of my White." He said this with a finger pointing towards the air, gesturing to his unseen god. By this time Brael's unconscious body was being carried off the ring by two city guards, and Jared was bowing to his loving public. The night continued with satisfying fights all around, some more than others. Strong Namasdae men, kildran knights and brawlers, and swift slender female warriors dotted the competition. Finally deep into the night two remained. A tall dark Namasdae man with tattoos over his forearms and chest stood acrossed from a slightly lesser Iornian guard named Gunther whom had decided to throw himself into the mix, and come favorably. Jason knew him well and his heart beat with pride as he saw the youth ready himself for the fight. He had trained him himself along with the other guards and watched him grow over the years.


"Ladies and gentlemen. Final round of tournament will end with Namasdae warrior: Manja!" A small amount of noise echoed from the crowd, "And one of our own! Gunther!" The crowd erupted with cheers. "FIGHT!" Jason sat back into his chair and grabbed his tankard of wine. "Poor young one. Stands as much of chance as Robin egg in snowstorm." he said to his friend beside him, whom had an understanding expression on his face. Jason drained his drink and set it back down to be refilled.


"I'm afraid you're right, Jason. Try and call it off short if you can, will you?" Jason gave a nod Kindral could not see. The Namasdae man, Manja, had fought viciously, almost unscathed in his fights. Jason would be thoroughly surprised if the boy lasted more than a few minutes.


Manja stood, firmly in place, while Gunther threw a determined and useless hook towards his face. The larger man ducked, and returned with his own elbow acrossed Gunther's head which sent him reeling. He seemed to try and shake off the pain, before grasping his hands in a hammer thrust and aiming them toward's the warrior's solarplex. Manja caught this with his arms, and landed a teeth-clenching headbutt right into the bridge of poor Gunther's nose. It spat a line of blood almost immediately. It seemed the victory was already won before it had begun. Gunther attempted a last feeble attempt at striking the mass before him, but Manja needed only to grab his sluggish arms and plant one of his boot-like feet onto Gunther's chest. He fell backward, gasping for the air that had obviously been ripped from his lungs. Jason rose immediately from his seat.


"I must declare fight over!" The crowd booed and hissed vehemently at the victor, whom did not seem to mind in the slightest. "The winner of tournament is Manja!" Jason gave the man a hearty applause that his face did not share, though his massive hands made enough noise. Guards were removing Gunther's still dazed form when Manja himself spoke up for the first time tonight.


"MANJA CAME! From desert of champions Manja came. And this is what Manja sees? In so called 'Combat Tournament.' You are all so high and mighty. Yet not one challenger could best Manja." He gave the ground his most disrespectful spit he could possibly muster, and the crowd answered with cries of disgrace and angry roars. "There is not ONE HERE WHO COULD BEST MANJA! EVEN BELOVED ICE MAN SITS WITH NO PRIDE IN HIS MASTER'S BOX OF RICHES." He was almost screaming over the mob at this point, but giving Jason a dead stare, which he returned. Kindral's eyebrows were raised. It had been years since he had seen someone truly challenge Jason directly. He wasn't even the least bit bothered by Manja's accusations of their entire country being weak. He knew what was about to happen, and boy was he looking forward to it.


Jason rose from his spot, and placing one foot on the edge of the lord's booth he leapt back into the dirt. He removed his circlet and tossed it behind him. Kindral caught it in one hand and rose from his own chair in a child-like vigor.


"Ladies and gentleman it seems Jason has accepted Manja's challenge!" Yet no cheering ensued. The look on the T'Odis behemoth's face could frighten a child. Manja had struck a nerve. Jason was, in fact, a bit sensitive about accusations of him becoming soft in his position as a wealthy lord's right hand. Coupled with this, it had also been years since he had had a fight worth remembering. He was not confident he would find it here, but the White forbid he should let a challenge of his pride go unfaced. He ripped the burgundy silk sash from his chest effortlessly, and removed the leather wraps from his feet with one pull. Finally he met his challenger in the center of the ring. Their faces no more than inches apart, one wouldn't even dream of making jokes about them kissing with how intense the scene before them looked.


"Fighters. Take your positions." It was Kindral who spoke now, assuming the role of host and judge. Manja smiled in Jason's face as he turned away, showing obvious disrespect at not facing him directly. Despite the nearly foot's difference in size, the Namasdae warrior seemed immensely confident. The silence was palpable. "FIGHT!" Both hulking fighters met each other in the middle, one of Manja's arms swinging in an arc hoping to catch Jason by the ear. Jason pulled back only enough to let the blow catch his cheek, and his head turned with it. Manja then let out three more heavy blows into Jason's muscle-armored gut, which seemed to shake him slightly as the two moved from their positions in the center. It was on the fourth that Jason caught the Namasdae's wrist. His head rose so that he was looking down the bridge of his nose, his eyes shadowed in inky spots on his face. He chucked the warrior aside like an older brother bullying his child sibling. Staring him down he wiped a small trickle of blood from his lip onto his wrist, and cracked a grin. Manja's eyes widened. This had obviously not been his plan.


Jason covered the distance between the two in a single bounding step, and he a single hooked arm drove deep into Manja's stomach, causing his mouth to open and a small amount of spittle to escape. Two more furious punches landed in succession, and a third broke the man's body with an obvious crack of a broken rib. Jason then threw a knee without giving the great Manja so much as a moment to breath, and do what he might to stop it with his palms, it lifted the once confident warrior off his feet in horror. Jason caught him before he could touch the ground, and pushed him by the back towards the earth. Manja bounced off of the dirt and spat blood from his mouth. Jason backed away a step or two, and gave the Namasdae a chance to struggle to his feet. He got to one knee before Jason jut his leg out and planted a heel into his entire face, and the man could not be described to move in any way but shooting backwards onto the ground. He was unconscious and defeated. "la pes mug qoyggar, yv muglymt ahsa." (He was not quitter, if nothing else.) He thought to himself, as the roaring og the crowd rang in his ears.

 

[Lord Zanicus]

Location: Kein, Kildra.


DRAMATIS PERSONAE;


Hew, Danza, apprentice.


Hilana, Umnana's granddaughter


Name Mentioned


Umnana, blind crone, — deceased —

Sought for death I did

In the darkest of alleys

Near where the richest dwelled

Sought for a name I did

Among the corrupted

Under the guidance of night

Sought for blood I did

Behind the veils of quarrels

Between mates and rivals

And through storms of heavy downpour

Sought for the soaked I did

Along the forgotten dirty streets

Where none dared glimpsed

Each and every one crying out

Its name its life its loss

Yet sought further I still did

Which led me nowhere known

And in the thick mists of dawn

Where light have yet crept to surface

Sought for an entity I did

Begging I be navigated

But there then gathered the defiled, too angry

to hear who was it I sought for exactly

Finding at last the means of contact

A blank piece of note

Written with a lemon-dipped quill

My own name now on the slate

Though failed in my proud quest it may have seemed

I smiled and lay await in my makeshift bed

For whom I have sought for shall now come after me

My name unwritten

My face soon removed

And my soul at last shall know peace...

Seeking the Skulled-Assassin,

Hermit Tranus.
​

* * * * *

​

The trail of blood led him straight to the boy. It didn't look too good for the teenager. He was staggering down the street with a bloodied handprint smeared along the walls. Even at such a sight, not the slightest hint of regret nor the sense of guilt touched his heart despite of his failed attempt at stopping the crossbow-wielding-pirate. Vyran approached the boy and hooked an arm around his neck. The gesture first startled the wounded kid but upon seeing who it was — not many help comes wearing a skull mask — a sigh of relief escaped his lips.


“Thank you, Brother!” he managed, thinking that it was another apprentice who happened to be in the right place, at the right time. “Those men came and, and..—”


“Silence, Danza!” Vyran commanded.


“M-m-my lord?” Hew was a name Danza used when in disguise, and nobody knew about his real name other than the one who took them under his wings. “My apologies, I was...—” he stuttered.


“Silence!” repeated the mentor, his voice, deep and guttural.


Without so much as to mutter another word, Vyran snapped the bolt protruding from the boy's chest and then pressed down on the wound to stop the bleeding, at least momentarily. He then led Danza through another alley, carefully ensuring that no other trails got left behind. More twists and turns before he finally started heading for an old shack at the end of a quiet alley. By this time, Danza was barely awake, unaware of his surroundings and was literally dragging his feet.


Vyran removed both their masks, cloaks and weapons, dumping them in a heap by a pile of rubbish. His gait and attitude then transformed into one of a drunkard, giving off the impression of two drunk friends — with arms hooked over each other's shoulders — heading back home after a night of fun at the local tavern.

“Za -hic- Zidane the baggy-eyed man

Peers his head in to look around

Alz -hic- Hidren the gold-fed man

Came from the wall to look around

“And then then!” says the eight-fingered man

And a barrel of ale he found

Shake-me-hand the deep-frown man

Went drinking what's found he did found

Za -hic- Zidane the burnt-water man

Belch and kisses the lass's brow

Alz -hic- Hidren the crotch-itched man—”
​

“For Azae's sake, Vyran, stop that damned singing!”


The seemingly drunken fool paused in his track, stared with droopy lids and mouth agape — at the female in the doorway — then nodded rigorously and resumed walking the already unconscious companion towards her. Under his breath he began humming the silly, addicting tavern song.


“And who did you have with you there?” Hilana asked, stretching a lamp-held arm out in front of her. She squinted and observed almost groggily before her eyes grew wide, a hand pressing over an endowed chest, then gestured for them to get indoors quickly. “Who is this boy and where did you find him? What happened?” her questions bombarded.


“Indeed he is Hew, I found him laying wasted in an alley. Must have -hic- thrown up over himself, the boy's all sticky and wet! Wait, -hic- how'd you know he is Hew?”


“I said who, not Hew! And he's bleeding you drunken buffoon! Put him on the table, quickly!”


“Bleeding? I didn't d-d-do anything!” Vyran feigned panic as he backed away from the body after he did as was told.


“You know, Vyran, sometimes I questioned your credibility as a man!” hissed Hilana while she tied her long black hair into a bun. “Go start a fire!”


Hilana was the granddaughter of the late Umnana, the blind crone who took Vyran in when he was little, back in the desert. They met in the Capitol of Kildra by chance, where she'd attended to the wounds he'd sustained years ago from a tavern's brawl. When asked for his name and upon hearing it, the surprised local healer told him about the old lady who'd lost a child with that same name. Vyran told her he was that child and since then, she'd been showing him the same kindness her grandmother once did. Naturally, being a couple of years older than him, she treated him like a younger brother she never have. Never really looked at him as a man beyond the very persona Vyran portrayed himself to be. To her, he was just an average man. An average cowardly and selfish man.


With an arm braced over the fireplace, Vyran pretended to watch the fire he just made while observing Hilana's work from the corner of his eyes. She'd tore the boy's shirt and was studying the remainder of the broken-off bolt a couple of finger-width down from the left collarbone. The wound didn't seem fatal but the symptoms Danza — or Hew to Hilana — was showing suggested otherwise. With practised hand and years of experience, the healer pried open the flesh with the aid of another blade and extracted the steel tip. She paused to study it, took a sniff before quickly jerking her head away with her expression contorted in disgust.


Poison, Vyran assumed. Most likely from “puffer's extract”.


“Birther's grace, help me!” gasped Hilana before she turned to address Vyran. “Did you see anyone else around when you found him?”


“Nay, I did not!” came the reply with an exaggerated shake of his head.


“Your friend have been shot and poisoned!” she explained while disrobing the boy hastily. “By seamen especially!”


“Umm.. So it's wise to take advantage of him, now?”


“No, you ignorant fool! Urgh!” exclaimed Hilana in frustration before she herself began stripping.


“Right, if you say so! I get what you're -hic- saying! ”


“We need to raise his body temperature! It's the only and quickest remedy I know! Hurry up and take off your clothes! Then press yourself against his back while I to his front!”


“We?” Vyran retreated himself from the table, both his hands up defensively and head still shaking in protest. “Nah ah! I ain't taking off my -hic- clothes for another man! Even if it's a matter of life and death!”


“Vyran! Vyran! Come back here, you selfish bastard! Vyran!” Hilana shrieked after his retreating back as Vyran made his way to the door.


“If I hadn't known you any better, I'd say -hic- you're just trying to get me naked and sleep with ya!” Vyran glanced over his shoulder and smirked. “Could have worked if there's no other man involved though!” he chuckled. “Don't you worry, I'll wake the girl from across the street and send her your way!”


“Just tell her it's urgent and mention nothing else!”

“Za -hic- Zidane the burnt-water man

Belch and kisses the lass's brow

Alz -hic- Hidren the crotch-itched man

Jerks and praying t' thank her now”
​

The door then slammed shut behind Vyran.


Danza wouldn't be able to make it. The wound was too close to his heart, the poison had already done its job. Without looking back at the old shack, Vyran headed for his equipments. He reached into his pocket and retrieved a piece of note — a different piece than the pirates have planted — and glanced at its content. Where once it have been blanked now showed him an insignia from a Libertian official, with a name under it. A mission. A genuine one and of high importance. One where he's got to personally get it done himself.


It didn't take him long to retrieve his stuff as well as to acquire a few more convincing props for his next disguise, all achieved under an hour. And just like that, Vyran have slipped out of one character and jumped into another.

* * * * *

​

Location: Somewhere near Jakka's Crossing


Time: Two months later, current day.


What is that? A lightning storm?


Looks like it!


But what's that black globe? Ink?


Don't know.


Stay away from it, Vyran! Don't you dare think about it!


Too late!


He already did!


...Hew, nay, Danza, no longer lived...


Such a phenomenon usually have bad news—


I umm.. feel like we had this conversation before!


I agree!


Indeed!


We've seen this!


But was it the exact same thing?


Not sure!


Premonition!


What?


Ridiculous!


Back then, when it happened more than a month ago, from Kein, was a premonition of what's taking place now! A forewarning of sort!


What do we think it means?


We don't know!


Fate?


What?


Destiny...


Ludicrous!


Turn the carriage around, Vyran!


Get away from it!


One cannot alter what is laid before them!


But one can always take a different route!


Not as easy when one is on the road of destiny!


Pshaw!


Silence! He moved!


Vyran shook his head and tore his gaze away from the direction of the familiar yet no less strange phenomenon. He tapped lightly at his temple with the base of his palm, quietening the voices within. There was nothing supernatural about them nor was it in any way a special ability of his. They were simply his own train of thoughts. A mere debating session from the many characteristics he'd conjured within the council of his own mind.


Strong was the urge to just head down in that direction and see for himself what that outworldly thing was. His curiosity kept knocking on the door of his cold heart. Alas, he can't, for he have a mission to accomplish. It have been nearly two months since he'd been travelling now. The pirate attack, the death of Danza and Hilana's attempt at saving the boy, all happened about six or seven weeks ago. Along with the images he'd envisioned with what just happened in Libertia's woods not so long ago. Disguised this time as a merchant carrying herbs, spices and a few passengers; he's not about to abandon the task just to scratch an itch.


So Vyran snapped at the rein and hasten the already exhausted exotic beasts onward, startling the resting small crowd inside the carriage behind him. “Hey! What's the rush, old man!”


“We're.. almost.. there.. Sir..!” croaked his reply.

 

[Darkfeather21]

Location: Endria, Kildra


Crouching at the end of a line of stalls in the market place, a young Nomasdae lady watched silently as fat noble pigs walked past, spreading their money around in the most stingy of manners, arguing down the price of almost everything they purchased as far as possible.


Curling her lip, Shasashi put her emerald green eyes on one man in particular. She didn't know his name, but she did know what he'd done. She'd been watching him for a few weeks now, as he'd walked the city with anywhere from three to ten guards following him at any point in time. He treated everyone like they were lesser than him, except those richer and more powerful. Them, he worshiped almost like gods. And then there was what he did to the urchins...


Growling quietly to herself, Shasashi pushed herself to her feet and made a small wave to the elderly Nomasdae woman running the stall she'd been crouched next to. The woman smiled and nodded in response as Shasashi slipped away into the crowd, following the nobleman with practiced ease. Normally, she'd have lifted a few wallets by this point, but today her mission was revenge, not gain.


Though the guards were disguised as peasants over their armor, it was hard to hide the swords at their hips and the clink of mail from trained eyes and ears. Shasashi counted approximately six in all. A challenge, no doubt, but nothing more. Slinking through the crowds towards the noble, Shasashi approached unnoticed and located his coinpurse. Fat and jingling, it was emblazoned with some noble crest that she couldn't care less about.


Silently, Shasashi pulled her knife from the sheath at her side and reached out, slicing the strings holding the pouch to the belt, and caught it before it fell too far. As predicted, the nobleman instantly noticed the loss of a weight of money. Shasashi held up the purse and grinned, catching the noble's eye, making sure he knew it was her, before taking off into the crowd, leaving a trail even the most inexperienced of guards could follow as the nobleman began screaming racial epithets and ordering his guards to catch her.


Ducking into an alley, Shasashi slowed a bit, waiting for the guards and noble to catch up, before leading them all on a merry chase deeper into the labyrinthine alleyways of this small city that few knew how to navigate, and fewer still knew why they had even been built in such a manner. Shasashi was neither of these, but she did know how to climb buildings to escape.


Once she was certain the guards and the nobleman were sufficiently far away from the main streets that none would hear what would follow, Shasashi spun around and pulled a small black orb from a pouch.


"There she is!" the first guard to turn the corner shouted, rushing straight into the alley. Shasashi waited until he was almost upon her, then threw the orb into the ground with all her strength, simultaneously covering her eyes with the other arm. The hardened clay shell shattered, allowing for the combination of chemicals held within to mix together. The reaction that followed was bright enough that Shasashi could see it even through her eyelids and the cover of her arm.


Pulling free her knife, Shasashi sped to the blinded guards and plunged it deep into each of their throats, leaving all six gurgling and choking on their own blood. The now blood spattered woman then leapt at the noble, tackling him to the ground despite his much larger size, and straddled his chest while waiting for the blindness to wear off.


"Wait, please! P-please! L-let me l-live! I-I-I-I'll give you anything you'd like!" the noble screamed as he realized what was happening. Shasashi felt the temptation to take his offer and let the fat bastard live, but quickly shook it off. Revenge first, then greed. Maybe she'd break into his house later and steal some stuff.


"Only if ya can bring back Andria an' Lorel," she snarled, then plunged her knife into his throat, jerking it to one side. Blood shot up in a fountain, barely missing hitting Shasashi in the face. She pushed herself off the nobleman as he gasped and choked on his own blood and wiped her hands and knife clean on his cloak. Or as clean as she could get them, anyway.


Shasashi poured a portion of the coins from the purse into her own, then dumped the rest on the noble's corpse, before clambering up the side of the alley. Earlier thoughts aside, it was time to leave this city before his absence was noted.


Location: Pompoe, Libertia


Time: Current Day


"...So ya know what I did?" Shasahi asked. She was sitting on the rooftop of an inn, surrounded by some urchins. Spread out among them was a blanket and some food and drink, all stolen from the very inn they were sitting atop. She held up one of her small black grenades.


"I rolled one of these lil' buggers into t'kitchen and waited for one of them cooks to step on it. Lemme tell ya, it let loose a bigger stink than Lil' Jimmy there after a bit of cheese!"


The kids giggled, while Jimmy turned bright red. Shasashi chuckled, then threw a bit of bread at the young boy. He caught it and tore a chunk free with his teeth, already returning to his normal shade. She'd been here two weeks already and this little group of children had almost instinctively latched onto her. She wasn't complaining , but it was kinda interesting how everywhere she went, the urchins were led to her.


Perfect for planning break ins. Urchins and beggers both were almost invisible to most of higher society. All of them rich pigs didn't want to think about the poor folk who could use some of the money they had locked away in their homes. She preferred for that money to go where she felt it belonged: Half to herself, and half to the people of the street.


So, the rich and powerful talked about things in front of the poor and destitute that they wouldn't discuss among others. They remembered these things, and passed them along to people like her who could help even the playing field of the economy just a little bit.


For instance, there was a council member here in Pompoe who was just asking to be robbed. Lots of fat to be trimmed away from that pig. But for now...


"Alright, alright, who's ready for another story?" Shasashi shouted over the kids, getting their attention back. The kids quieted down and watched her expectantly.


"So, many years ago, in a land far away from here," and she began to weave another story for the kids to listen to as the hours of the morning passed.

 

[CharmyPie (gone~)]

The sun was blazing hot, even the wind that promised a cool breeze gave nothing but heat. The noise in the market place did nothing to soothe the weather in the Kingdom of Indoria. The chatter and the noise of its inhabitants filled the morning air. It was crowded and almost chaotic.


"What an absolutely, spectacularly, wonderfully, beautiful day." Dariela giggled. She was walking with the crowd. A scarf covering her neck and head, protecting her from the heat of the sun. She took a deep breath and caught the scent of sweaty people, sand, traces of food in the market place, and the comforting scent of Indoria.


She moved quickly with the crowd… sometimes overtaking a few slow people, but never did she move too fast as to cast attention to her self. A low profile, keep a low profile. She reminded herself. She had a job to do. She eyed the market stands and the houses behind them. The houses in this region all looked familiar that it irked her, how was she supposed to find the house that she was supposed to rob?


The house with the Apple stall in front of it, they said. The house with a white course wall and a rod supporting a balcony, they said. It has dirty brown drapes for the windows, they said. Well stab me with a Kebab Stick but all these houses look the same! She huffed angrily. She let her eyes roam some more, looking for an apple stall that maybe stands out.


"Oh I want that." She mumbled quietly to herself when she eyed a golden bracelet on the arms of the lady in front of her. "I know someone who'd gladly buy that." She said aloud, not worried of anyone who might have heard her. She knew her words would drown in this sea of chatter. Expertly, she positioned herself on the lady's left, her hands barely touching the bracelet, then. Swipe. She overtook the lady, with the bracelet in her hands. She smiled… she felt proud of herself. The upperclass lady didn't need anymore jewelry.


She decided to look around some more then… Oh there, a dirty white house, dirty brown drapes, dirty rod, balcony, rugs, apple stand. Hey I found it! I think… she grinned and walked towards the apple stand and discreetly took an apple. She looked behind her and watched the crowd flow like fluid. She shrugged and figured that no one would notice. She bit the apple and used both hands to grab the rod. In three long pulls, she's up in the balcony, and no one noticed. Quickly, she head inside the house, leaving a trail of sand. She laughed quietly, remembering her nickname in the underground… 'Sand Storm'. She looked around and saw that she was in some sort of office-like setting.
 


"What a workaholic. I guess it makes sense now. I was wondering where I'd find a scroll in an ordinary house." She talked to herself as she walked towards a shelf. She pulled out a couple of scrolls, looking for one with a certain seal. Not you, not you, not you, not you, that's a snake, not you, Oh my Lamb Stew that's a Snake! She backed away quickly, stumbling a bit. The snake was at least 20 inches long, it was black and it had golden stripes by it's head and tail.


"Oh what the hell, first vague descriptions, now, snakey pets. They better pay me higher." She backed away until she hit the table. The snake hissed at her, approaching slowly, ready to strike. "Sorry snakey snake. Do you want an apple?" She threw the apple at the snake. It only seemed to agitate it more. It hissed and raised its head. "Oh my, just stay back I need to find a scroll." She searched the table with her hand, never losing eye contact with the snake. She grabbed a couple of things. "I have a… a back scratcher? And a scroll." Her eyes darted to the seal on the scroll. It was the right one. She laughed, forgetting the snake.


She heard it hiss, her eyes darted back to it just in time to see the snake strike at her heel. She jumped in time. To miss the snake, she darted to the balcony and jumped to the rod, her hands clutching it like dear life depended on it. She fell down to ground, making a mess at the apple stall. And she just ran with a grin on her face and a scroll on her hand. She ran and ran and ran, people tried to chase her but she lost them in the crowd. She ran and ran and ran until she reached the outskirts… she panted and she caught her breath.


From there, she knew she was safe. Calmly, she walked to the rendezvous point, her dealer was waiting for her there.


"I have to say, I'm surprised. Well done." A masked man grinned, he was leaning on a ruined wall.


"Hey man, I went through a lot to get this scroll, and I'm not settling for the original price." Dariela cocked a hip. "You gave me a reaaaally vague description of a house and a scroll, then there was a bloody snake chasing me, i had to jump off a balcony for whatever the fuck this is." She sigh.


"How about I double the price, and make you another offer?" The mask man offered.


"Yeh, i'm listening." She grinned.


"Great. I'd have to ask you to come with me, Sand Storm."

 

[yoikes]

Thera
​

Location: Ashah, Holy Knight's headquarter


Mood: Bored


Tags: -


"Captain Janer is in her chamber." The guards told her as Thera was looking around the castle, so she went straight to the captain's residence in the Holy Knights headquarters- a short walk from the main castle building. She knocked on the door of her room, announcing herself and then waited for permission to enter. When the captain gave it, Thera opened the door and stepped inside. While closing the door behind her, she could tell that there was something off about Janer. She didn't greet her like she usually did. The captain knew her long enough to know that Thera was not the most active speaker in Roadalia. Captain Janer was usually the one to start the conversation, and the one to end it too.


And tonight, Thera couldn't help but to notice that there was something off about her. Too calm, too composed.


"Speak." She said, in her usual commanding tone. She sounded distraught by something.


"As ordered, I went to Kalis to watch over the trial of criminals, in which the criminals were all found guilty, and then executed by hanging. The execution was a success." There was a long silence, which nothing but confirmed that there was indeed something strange about Captain Janer. "The criminals were found guilty of rape and murder, theft, and non-believing--"


"Tell me, Thera," The captain cut in, suddenly. She stood up from her chair, staring at her with her piercing gray eyes. "What do you think of it?"


"It?"


"The trial, the execution," Janer added. "The sins that we humans commit, the sins that we all commit. What do you think of it, of us cleansing the nation under Her name?"


Don't tell me she has fallen into the abyss. Thera blinked. "It's wonderful."


"... Don't give me that rat piss. Come on, tell me the truth. Your true opinion." Janer approached her, closing in with that huge step of hers. Thera wanted to take a step back, moving away from her gaze. She stopped right in front of them, staring down and covering her with her shadow. "Go on, tell me."


Did she find out about her secret? Thera blinked once again, realizing that her legs had opened into a defensive stance. No- Slashing Janer's throat here will make her trouble worse- and it's not like she could strike her by surprise that easily. Her position is no joke, after all.


"Like I said, wonderful." Thera repeated. "The Goddess must be pleased with what we did, under the order of Queen Gayana."


"Even if it means killing innocent people, whose only fault is not believing in the same God as we all do?"


Thera flinched. "Yes, of course."


"Good! I know I can count on you!" Janer smiled, that big smile of hers that Thera was familiar with. She grabbed her hand and shook it, while praising her highly for what she just said, and while she did she passed a crumpled piece of paper to her. Janer winked at her. "May the Goddess Azae bless you, Thera."


"May she bless you too." Thera quickly opened the note.

Sorry, I need to deceive whoever listening to us right now.
​

Can you meet me in the Red Swan's tavern tonight?
​

The ink was dry. Had Janer planned this from the very beginning? Probably, definitely.


"If I were still with the pirates, they would've had a drink instead of praying for this success. Of course, I am no longer a part of such barbaric tradition." Thera folded the paper in her hands. "Good night, Captain. I'll see you tomorrow."


Thera turned and then quickly made her way out of the room, as she usually did after reporting to Janer. Then she’ll return to her chambers and change into her off-duty equipment, with a black cloak that she’ll use to cover her entire body- just to be safe. She bowed at Janer, before closing the door of her room, and started walking toward her own chamber when she noticed someone familiar walking toward her direction- someone Thera hated so much.


"Good evening," Kira greeted- a smile on her face. "How's Kalis?" Thera nodded as an answer.


"I heard about a rumor, you know, that your Father is the one who taught you about Goddess Azea." Thera could feel her eyes widening, staring at Kira who was now grinning at her. "May She bless your Father, for showing and teaching you the correct way."


How the hell did she find out? The cleric? A bird, a spy in her platoon? As she's busy keeping her composure in front of the woman she hated the most, Kira moved closer- reaching out for her right hand.


"What are holding in your ha-"


"Not something that you should see." Thera moved her right hand away, behind her back. Her left hand was wrapped around her hooked sword's hilt. Without breaking her eye contact, she continued. "I advise you not to pry too much into my private matters."


Kira frowned, obviously unhappy with Thera's reaction. Thankfully Kira was still sane enough to know that Thera was always serious about her threat. She took a few steps back, lifting her chin as she walked away and continue toward Janer's chamber. Thera clicked her tongue, as she hurriedly returned to her own room. She took one of the lanterns in the hallway and took it inside her room, hanging it on the wall before locking the door from the inside.


Thera was glad that she had a room of her own, her own private chamber as a part of the so-called-elite Holy Knights of Azae. She took off her armors and cape, unstrapping her belt and put it aside as she threw herself onto her bed, trying to get some sleep after the long night.


She dreamt that she was the one standing on the gallows, a rope hung around her neck. The crowds were booing at her, her troops turned their back against her.


"Non believer!" Kira whispered in her ears. "Guilty!"


And the trapdoor beneath her opened, waking her up.


How long was she asleep? Enough, judging from the amount of sunlight entering her window. Thera sighed, wiping off the sweat on her face. A new nightmare that'll haunt her at night, how lovely.


I should grab some food, then head down to the library. She thought, realizing that today she did not have anything to do but the small appointment at night. Thera rose from her bed and cleaned herself, before wearing her shoulder plate and breastplate, which was more than enough for her, strapping her belt around the waist and after making sure that her hook swords were perfectly clipped by her sides, and headed out from her room.

 

[noremac]

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jakka's Crossing-Nef

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
​

“Yooo hooo, yooo hoooo ashh-shp-pirates life fer meeee.


Ah drwinnk uf da rum ishf-nishe in my tummm, when da guullllls arrr singin


But ah gurrrrlll in da lap, thummmb‘n ‘er twat ish bether, when shesh ah sqeeekin”


Silas sung almost incoherently as the group stumbled back to their camp. He had one arm wrapped around a comrade's shoulder, the other swung wildly and clutched a flask of grog. Nef had offered the group his own highly watered down ration of rum so that they might not think to procure something stronger.


“Gi-hic-ve mee thaaat d-dr drinnk, Silasss...Youu fuckin bastard!” Said a sailor, whose wet, beer soaked hair covered his face.


“GOooofffuck yerself, Yang! I aint sharin this horse piss.” Silas took a swig and spat it in the beggar's face.


“Fuckin hic-‘airy vag lickin Roadalian ho bag.” Muttered the sodden Parshum, as he clenched his fists, “Coxain ain’t even a real fuckin job.”


“You wanna have another go, fish fucker?”


"I take enough shit from you as it is!"


“Shut the fuck up.” Nef’s stern interjection was enough to quail Silas’s rambunctious. The large T’Odis man had a certain reputation.


Silas took another drink. “Neferius….Shiiiyytttt...Why you givin us this weak stuff ffanyways. Where’sh that Rat bastard when yah need ‘em...And why does my fuckin head hurt?”


The night was dark and full of silence. Quiet and still air was marred by a tumult of cheers and jeers coming from a nearby fight club. Only stars lit the treck home. A muggy atmosphere filled with heat and static gave the night an ominous tension. Nef alone, noticed that something was not right. At the far edge of town he stopped walking and listened to the forest. It was too quiet. It seemed as if all the creatures in the forest had fled in fear of some coming catastrophe. “Silas! Check the picket line! And I’m not taking any shit from you on this one.” The other men snickered. Silas gave them an evil look as he went to do as he was told.
 


In the middle of the night there came a blood curling scream. It was followed by a loud crashing and more shouts of terror. Nefarious was still awake, walking the perimeter. The captain and other officers had not returned yet. “Sir,” It was one of the men on watch. “Grayson is, back...He’s the only one…”


“What in Azae do you mean?” Nef growled.


The quartermaster lay on the ground clutching his side. Leading out of the pool of torch light was a dark trail of blood. Screams of agony erupt from the town, less than a mile away. Grayson breathed in rasps, “A...Monster.” The old Kildran took his hand away from his side. Four while ribs glistened in the firelight. The wound was in the shape of a massive bite mark. The pirates had seen similar wounds before, but never a bite so deep...And never in the shape of a human jaw. “It was…It…” Grayson closed his eyes. He lay on one side for one leg was twisted at a grotesque angle. The hallow voice fell to a whisper. “Pale white skin...Eyes of fire. It was a demon a monster I tell you...It grabbed me and… and...It fucking grabbed me with just one hand...And...Azae damn it. It was a fucking monster!”


Once, the quartermaster had been a renown knight, or so some said. Such a status fut with his stern and disciplined manner. But the man had snapped, “Unger… My king… Why did you kill me… The death. So many corpses. Oh Marie, I’m sorry! Anthony, I failed you. Oh Azae, why? Must I be reborn to this cursed land?” From the town, Wails of fear accompanied the crippled man’s rambling.


Most of the men stepped back in fear. Never had they expected the stoic quartermaster to lose his composure in such a gruesome way. Greyson was attempting to stand, bloody hands covering his face. He screamed, “That smile. Those evil eyes... The fangs! Azae, curse me! Those fangs. Unger, Anthony, Marie!” Neferios alone approached Greyson The mate put a hand on the raving man's shoulders and shoved a knife into his heart.


“Thanks for playing. Better luck next time.” Nef twisted and pulled the knife free. He wiped the blade clean on his own shirt, so that the other men would remember. A group of four had already gathered.“Wake the crew and gather weapons! Tonight we pillage and burn!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Outside Jakka's Crossing-Adam and Ziek

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
​

Expanding his arms, Adam spoke with a royal Kildran accent, "We are but humble merchants. You have met our good surgeon, Dr. Izem, his eager assistant is Rat, and the other idiot is Mosi." Adam dropped the accent near the end. Izem began tying a sling around Ziek, not caring to be gentle.


“That was odd,” Ziek thought to himself. Izem, who was blacker than the night, was now putting Ziek’s very tender arm into a homemade sling without a bit of ease. Ziek eyed the man to the left whose name seemed to be the most interesting. The little man had sat on a branch and was opening a tinderbox. The other man Mosi, appeared to be Nomasdae, but he remained too deep in the shadows for Ziek to get a proper look.


"I wish I had more of those damn fire sticks." Rat muttered as he struck a piece of flint across his knife.


"I'm-" The captain was cut off by the scream. The four pirates only shivered at the sound. Ziek got a very strange and suspicious vibe from the whole group. It was odd enough that they seem unfazed from the screams coming from the distance.


"I am captain Durant, but you'd might as well call me Adam."


Izem finished tying the sling. "Keep that on until you take it off." He said sarcastically. "Now, can you stand?"


That was a good question. Ziek went to push himself up into a standing position, using what he now realized was a large, downed tree behind him for leverage. Putting weight on his right foot sent sheer excruciating pain through his entire ankle. His assessment: a particularly bad sprain and possible break. The pain came as a surprise and caused his knee to buckle under his own weight. Izem caught him before he fell back to the ground.


“Stand? Yes. Walk? Doesn’t look like it.” Ziek answered grimly.


Another scream echoed off in the distance.


He scanned his immediate surroundings while holding onto the shoulder of Izem for balance, favoring his right side. It was dense, green jungle as far as his eye could see. He was having trouble pinpointing what direction the shouts were coming from. Where was he? Wasn’t he in Jakka’s Crossing the night before? All he did know was that he wanted no part in whatever was causing those shrieks of pain. There would be no heroic antics made by him, not today.


There was no doubt in his mind that he could smell smoke and wood burning in the jungle air, but there was also another scent now. It was something not as familiar and much more sinister. It took a moment for Ziek to identify the burning aroma, but once he did, his stomach began to turn.


The stench of someone on fire is a memory that never leaves someone. There’s something terribly unique about the way the odors of burning cloth, hair, and human flesh combine.


A pair of glowing yellow eyes and jutting inhuman fangs flashed in his head for just a second, and then was gone as quick as it came.


Two more terrifying cries escaped from south of their current position. Ziek could tell where they were coming from now.


“Gentleman, I think we should start moving away from those screams, what do you think?”


Adam paused in thought. He knew there was something frightening happening this night, "Azae damn you. Can't you remember anything? Did he hit his head Izem?" The carpenter shrugged. "Look around. Do you think a Tra-el did this? I have men back at in town so we are returning...My conscience wouldn't allow me to leave a concussed man out as lizard food. Best you stick with us until you can remember something. Mos! Pick him up!"


Mosi groaned. He had just gotten a shush lit off of Rat's little ball of burning cedar. He took a deep puff before handing it to Rat and going to lift Ziek in a fireman's carry. Rat, the wiry little rodent, hit the spliff then sniffed the air. "Smells like something is cooking. Hi hi hi hi ." His laughs came in little squeaks not uncharacteristic to his name.


Ziek let out a pitiful "Ohh" of pain, as the one named Mosi swung him onto his shoulders with no warning or bit of care. His broken ribs sent extraordinary amounts of pain through his whole torso. Mosi's body-order was a mixed stench of sweat and liquor. After Rat let out his terrifyingly inhuman squeak of a laugh, Ziek answered Adam, only half-joking,


"Oh Azae, leave me for the Tral-el..." Ziek's voice was weak and barely audible; and like that they were off through the forest, towards the screams and smell of burning flesh. Every bump of Mosi's jogging sending waves of sharp ache through Ziek's chest, while he struggled to breath. Grimy, Izem picked the way easily though the forest, only needing to follow the smoke, and the noise, and the terror.

 

[bottlecap]

Jason was standing in the middle of an open field. It was as though there was a thick mist gathered just at the edge of his vision, and not an inch further. The ground didn't seem it's usual thin blades of grass and rolling expanses. Instead it was as if he were viewing it out of the corner of his eye no matter how closely he looked. For some reason, he didn't care to either. He could feel the presence of his home at his back without looking. Iorn rose above him, and how he knew it he could not tell. He heard the war cry of a thousand men from all directions, and saw their shadows dance among the haze directly acrossed the field. They approached faster than humanly possible, or rather, equestrian ability granted them. Instinct told him to draw his sword, but by the time he had grabbed it's hilt the galloping black mass was upon him. He was grabbed by unseen arms and thrust upon the ground. Two faces appeared above the darker vehement stairs of ghostly warriors. He could not truly place their features, but somehow knew they were friendly. Slowly they were eclipsed by the evil restraining him, and he awoke.


He did not start or jolt awake. His eyes simply snapped open and his brow furrowed. His unlit chandelier met his gaze on the ceiling, and he remembered where he was. In his chambers; the morning sunlight filtering through his window onto his bed. Immediately he cast the dream from his mind. One of many, he had no reason to dwell. He pulled his fur blanket off his body, the skinned hide of a Kildran forest bear, big enough to cover Jason's massive body. He lumbered sleepily to his wardrobe, sweeping his trousers from the floor with a foot and grabbing them off a raised leg out of laziness. He put them on as he walked, moving through his simply furnished chambers like a giant through a forest. He stoved his smallest toe on the wardrobe when he reached it, and his half mooned eyes didn't budge an inch. His groggy face shown he could not care less about the pain in his foot.


Sluggishly he assembled his leather vest and spalders. He strapped his massive gray blade onto his back, it's half sheathe showing it's dimly lit blade as he turned to reach for his bronze circlet. He placed it upon his head and headed for the door. He opened his passage way and ducked to leave. The room had been furnished to his size, but they could not cut out a larger door from the stone for fear of ruining the integrity of the wall. This did not bother Jason. It reminded him every morning what world he was living in. Outside his quarters were the Guard's barracks. Beds with footlockers stretching at least fifty meters to the other end. Mainly younger cadets or recruits going about their day, as the older guards with higher pay often had family homes or apartments not far from Castle Iorn. A few beat their chest or gave the captain an "Aye" as he passed, to which he replied with gruff "aye" and "hm."


Further on in the castle kitchen breakfast was being prepared. The cooks and maids went about their business without acknowledging the rather regular presence of a giant in their midst. He took an apple from a stack of ingredients, and from the palm of his hand it was immediately snatched by a tall slender man with a hard looking face and a single arm. His chef's hat was askew atop his head, and he turned without a word from the T'Odis guard captain. Jason gave almost a sad smile to the back of the chef's head.


"Markuriooooo!" Jason moaned, his voice now more awake yet barely functional coupled with sleep and his thick accent. He wined the chef's name like a child speaking to their mother. "I am hungryyyyyyyy. I had rough night. Please just one apple!"


"NO!" The chef's hard gravely voice answered back without a glance. He had placed the apple back and was currently chopping carrots with surprising precision with only one hand. Markurio had never told Jason, or anyone else in the castle for that matter, how he had lost his arm. Jason often imagined a battle with a brick oven had claimed the appendage, as it seemed the only event fearsome enough to best the chef. "You will wait at the table with the family, like every morning before this one. I pray to Azae for the day you sleep in and do not bother my staff!"


"Your staff has never minded my presence, Markurio." Jason replied, grinning at a plump cook about his age he knew as Marie, who returned his grin and giggled behind her work. He passed her to leave and she slipped him a loaf of bread. Exiting into the dining hall he was greeted with the stiffening of two fully armored guards. "Ease, brothers, ease! Is only I." The two relaxed again and gave Jason a nod and greeted him seperately.


"Good morning captain,"


"Mornin Cap'n!" They both said cheerily. Guards were tasked with much more than simply standing watch over the castle here. They were the fortresses clock. These two were up from the midnight shift, and when the sundial pointed to nine they would wake their next comrades for their shifts, and so on. Jason was the first member of the "family" in the dining hall. Most of the members were actually adopted into the Iorn family, as was tradition for the upper 1 percent class in the city. About six blood families made up the current cast of the castle. Joining him soon would be advisers and those members, filling in places at the massive table. Kindral was often the last one awake in the morning, and this irritated Jason without fail every last sunrise.


Just as Jason predicted, the masters of treasury, a priest of Azae, and the chief adviser filed in one by one yawning and shuffling aged feet. All were easily over fifty, as they had all been there since Kindral was a prince himself, long before Jason's arrival at the castle. Many had reproached the lord for his choice of appointing Jason to the court, but by this time they were all on friendly terms. A rather plump man, Myriad, took a spot acrossed from Jason. The T'Odis had rather liked his presence, though thinking the lord of treasury a bit pompous. Spying the small loaf of bread Jason had nicked from the kitchen, Myriad spoke the first words at the table for the morning in a hushed tone.


"I don't suppose you'd be willing to share?"


Jason let out a low laugh in reply and tore off another piece for himself.


"Aye, I thought that'd be your answer." He said, reaching into his coin purse at his side and pulling three gold coins. "All yours, my friend. Just give us a piece, eh?"


Jason was truly amused. "How can small piece of bread be worth more than some men's day's pay to you, ah?"


"Value and worth are two different things, my T'Odis companion!" He tapped the side of his nose and gave a wink. Realizing he was not going to score the bread, he replaced his money into it's bag.


"It seems having friends in right place is worth more than gold, then, no?"


"Aye, you may be onto something there, but there's not enough money in my store rooms to bribe any of Markurio's staff, that's certain."


The two shared an understanding chuckle and Jason gave a hearty "AYE" this being the truth. Markurio answered only to the Lord himself, and took no trouble from anyone. He ran his kitchen tighter than a Parshum ship captain. That was when the table was graced with the sudden presence of child like beauty. The Lord's three daughters had entered with their morning guard. The oldest, Angelica, sat two seats down from Jason on the other side of her father's chair. Eliza sat beside her. Their hair was braided by their handmaidens down opposite sides of their heads. The youngest, no more than nine, took her spot immediately beside Jason, as was the custom in the morning. She slouched in her chair, and reached for Jason's loaf of bread without a word. Jason made no move to keep it away, and smiled at the sleepy girl's messy hair. Patty refused to let the Maid's touch her for any reason short of a festival, and seeing theirs had ended last night she had no reason to let her blonde messy main be groomed. She was no larger than Jason's calf, and yet he could not be bullied by anyone in the castle save the small human. She gave the smallest of "fankyu's" as she bit into Jason's prize, and Myriad also didn't seem to mind where the bread had ended up.


By this time the rest of the extensive family had joined them, all save for Kindral. Various other adopted prince's and ladies dotted the table, leaving only the Lord's place empty. All made minorly entertaining conversation, and Jason bided his time trying to ignore his stomach growling, playing a game of "catch the mouse," as she called it, with Patty. He let one of his large fingers roam around the table just out of reach while she chased it with one of her minuscule hands, attempting to catch it and hold it down.


Finally the doors at the far end opened and every head turned. Noone ever let out a sigh of relief, for fear of being disrespectful, but the relief in the room was palpable. Cooks had been waiting at the other end of the room, watching for Kindral's entrance, and immediately began bringing out the food. All was still warm from preparation. Pies, cakes, meat pies, lamb, bacon, jerky, and many many loaves of bread lined the table in moments. A regular sized apple pie found itself directly in front of Jason, and he grinned from ear to ear. Apple was his favorite. There are many things about Jason which frustrated Markurio, but the pride of both was obvious in what they did. Markurio had been one of the first to shake Jason's hand last night when he returned to the castle. This was an obvious thankyou for defending the honor of Iorn. Markurio gave special meals to noone.


The meal passed with plenty of conversation and as much energy as a morning can hold. Kindral leaned over to Jason as it was coming to a close, just after having his ear whispered in by his eldest daughter.


"My daughter wonders if you and I might be free this afternoon for some shopping." Kindral spoke with a tone of amusement. He found it funny that his daughters would rather be accompanied by the lord and his right hand than any of the hosts of giggling girls in the castle. Jason leaned past Kindral and saw Eliza's wide grin and Angela's pleading eyes.


"They will be needing guard will they not? We shall go." All three of the girls seemed content with this answer, and Jason went back to his leg of lamb happily.

 

[Zooks]

Renaria Velouse and General Leonard Roadalia

​

Renaria's silent steps lead her down the winding tower to the lower levels of the great Cathedral that made up Ashah's main Castle. Her mind oddly silent as she took in her surroundings. It was a habit she picked up as a child to not think or dwell on memories when alone, as to do so would mean one was not fully prepared should the need arise. Beasts of the Forest after all were fickle creatures and often unpredictable so the less her mind was wandering the more in-tuned to the current situation she was. For instance, it seemed the two fellow's intent to watch her every move figured that staying a good yard or so behind her to follow would somehow be enough to escape her ever watching gaze. She made a half chuckle and only the very edge of her mouth turned up in a smirk.


Amateurs.


They certainty would not catch much as a Hunter, that was for sure. But she played their little game for her amusement, wondering how much they were being paid to Spy. Perhaps she should find whomever was paying them to cut their fee? Her dark eyes turned then as she heard the voice of none other then Seraphina as she came down a separate corridor and their paths met at a cross junction. The smirk quickly faded to be replaced with that dull, cold and unforgiving look she was know for. Almost looking bored or moronic, except for the piercing and intensiveness of her very eyes.


She remained silent as the woman proceeded to attempt to goad her into some sort of reaction, calling her pet Eagle a chicken, and bringing back a souvenir. If only the woman who's arrogance was thick too the point of bursting knew. Had Renaria wanted to kill her, she would have been shot from a mile out long since now. In the cover of darkness, and straight through her breast into her heart. With an arrow she would buy from a Market Stall owner, rather then her very recognizable hand-crafted set. Her sword and shield nothing to the silence of an arrow straight and true.


But Renaria did not react, did not let her mind wander even a moment longer then necessary. She didn't even speak to the girl as she approached, only walked to meet her and pass her underneath the center of the massive four way corridor intersection. Although as they passed, almost brushing shoulders, her voice finally rang out soft and low. A single sound, a soft whistle. An imitation of an arrow whistling into the air at an incredible pace before The Queen's Successor reached out and let her very index finger touch at the girl's temple. Finally her head and gaze shifting to the right at her with an unforgiving gaze. "May Azae always watch over you... you will need it." she finally murmured and the very edge of her lip turned up. The only reaction she would allow the woman with a bone to pick to see. She lowered her finger and continued with strangely echo-less steps.


Her feet naturally led her to General Leonard's office of which she rapped three times to announce her arrival before she took a step back and crossed her arms at her lower back, shoulders straight and posture pristine. "General. You wished to speak to me?"


General Leonard Roadalia almost jumped at the soft sound of Renaria's words. They were not loud or sudden, but he was jumpy and sleepless. There he sat, behind his desk covered in various scrolls and messages it appeared, the General of the Roadalian Army and last living namesake of the nation. His mauve colored breastplate, decorated with the symbol for the Goddess of Azae, was undone and tossed over the paperwork.


Leonard stood and paused there by his desk, a colossal 6'10 of a man. He looked at Renaria with sullen and tired eyes through his mop of blonde hair. Sleep did not come to the General in the evening before; instead spent shouting and arguing with his love, Captain of the Holy Knights of Azae, Janer Courtine. The morning sun shone brightly through his window, accentuating his tired features.


As if he realized the look on his face lacked seriousness, his expression instantly changed to one of determination and urgency. Without a word, he motioned for her to shut the heavy door to his chambers and have a seat.


Renaria eyes did what they almost always did and roll over his entire frame. From his very bent over back, shoulders sagged and fingers idly pressed into the tabletop's surface. Those were the subtle hints she was picking up, but as her eyes lifted from his frame to see the haphazardly placed chest piece among piles of papers. Finally her ever watching gaze fell back to his sunken eyes and tired expression. She knew it was because of the Captain of the Holy Knights, but it was not her place to intervene nor to ask further on the matter. He would tell her in due time. Grasping the heavy door and sliding it closed behind her with a practiced elegance the woman took a seat across from his desk with her face still a cold feature.


Still awaiting his words, she did however motion with two fingers to tap onto her lip, then her shoulder and slowly slide up to her own ear. Wordlessly telling him of the two men who had been following her since day break, and who would no doubt surround the room in due time. "I have seen to the Falconry department today and all the flocks are in correct order. The Keeper informed me should the Queen or her advisor need a message sent, the birds have been rested well and are more then capable of making a long trek to The Wall if needed." As she said this, however, the girl grasped a feather quell from his desk and slowly grasped a spare piece of paper, sliding them both towards him with that same emotionless gaze. It was always hard to tell if Renaria could be trusted simply from her complete lack of emotions at times. Though she had confessed to the General about her concerns over the Queen's sudden shift in moods, increasing in frequency since Miranda had arrived as her council.


As Renaria passed the quell and paper to Leonard with her trademark "Dead-eyes", he couldn't help but snicker. Renaria was a bit of an oddity in the capitol. Many called her the "Queen's pet" behind her back, but Leonard always found her fascinating. He couldn't help but think, in a different world...


She was smart enough to know that she was being followed, always under the watchful eye of Queen Gayana. With no hesitation, she used their hand signals they had practiced in the months before to be able to communicate without being heard by the royal spies. Her idea to use these signals, coupled with her expression of concern over the Queen's changed moods since Miranda's arrival gave Leonard the assurance she should be invited to what was to transpire later that evening.


He did not take the writing utensil, instead passing Renaria an already written note across his desk; pushing the clutter out of the way as he gave her a knowing smile. After Renaria grabbed the folded piece of paper and began to open it, Leonard collapsed into his cushioned seat.

As you know, we cannot speak.
​

Can you meet me in the Red Swan's tavern tonight?
​

Renaria's eyebrow actually lifted as the General handed her an already folded piece of paper, like he had planned this from the very beginning. Or rather, the news was that important he couldn't risk it getting out in the open. As she peeled the sheet wide her eyes quickly flicked over it before she looked back to him and made a curt nod. Although her eyebrows narrowed just a fraction as he suggested a tavern of all places.


It made sense, loud sounds of musical instruments would leave them open to have a full discussion. Hiding in plain site as it where. Though the name of the Tavern he mentioned was not ringing any bells, so her eyes had to narrow thoughtfully. Was it one of those black market taverns that sold liquor or abandoned long ago? Regardless she didn't like the hairs on the back of her neck standing up but if he insisted...


She gave him a much firmer nod as her eyes drifted down again and she slid his tabletop candle towards her, putting the paper above the flame to burn the evidence. Then she flashed him a strangely soft smile as he half collapsed into the seat.


"You need rest, General. Why don't I stand in your place and control the Roadalian Army today? The Queen has taught me the intricate nature of all sectors to the Roadalia Queendom, I'm sure keeping tabs on your soldiers will be easy enough. And if there are any issues I can always have a messenger find you?"


Leonard shook his head wearily while he gave her a curt, "No". Realizing that might come off ruder than he had intended, he expanded, "I mean, No Ms. Velouse, that will not be necessary. I know that I may look a wreck, but I can assure you that I can handle everything." While still leaning back into his chair, Leonard let his hand graze the beautifully engraved front door to one of the cabinets of his desk. He pushed gently on it, sliding the door inward and revealing a secret compartment with an ornate glass bottle of red liquid and several pristine wine glasses.


Everyone has their secrets, and this was one he knew the spies would dare not bother reporting on. He pulled the bottle from the hidden cabinet and proceeded to pour himself a generous glass, pausing only when he noticed Renaria's gaze upon him. He chuckled a bit wildly to himself, both at the hour of his choice of drink, and the peculiarity of the situation. While placing another glass in front of Renaria before sipping from his own, he spoke, "Do you drink wine Ms Velouse? Might as well have a small glass, for today and the coming weeks will be full of fiery stress." Leonard toasted the air, to no one in particular before swigging the contents of his glass down. He had no idea how darkly accurate he was.


Renaria watched his curt nod and sharp response and the tiniest flicker of a smile graced the corner of her lips. She never expected him to actually hand over control of the army but an offer was an offer after all and she felt obliged considering how tired the man seemed. Of course her eyes narrowed down as she watched him procure some wine from his desk drawer. Now that was something new, though she had seen the Queen herself have a glass or two in years past with dinner when things seemed bleak or particularly troublesome.


As with most things to do with Renaria, despite her being the Successor to the Throne, she never felt it her place to comment nor dismiss anyone's choices regardless if it was against the Rules or Regulations, or even Scriptures. To each their own. Perhaps it had to do with her more humble upbringing. Now she didn't mind him drinking but then he offered her a glass. Naturally she was disgusted with the idea, having grown up watchful and a Hunter she always wanted to have the sharpest mind and quickest reflexes.


However....


"I do not General.... but... if you insist..." She answered and for once her eyes broke their fierce gaze as she peered towards the tabletop. It was momentary and while he was busy filling her glass he may have missed it, but for a second she looked visibly shaken. Worried even. Something just didn't feel right and had since that Miranda woman had showed up. She felt like she was a spooked animal, overly edgy for no reason.


She lifted the glass to her lips, her inexperience with the liquid showing as she gulped it down heavily then made a face of disgust as it burned sliding down her throat, pushing the now empty glass back towards him. "Um... Thank you for... the offer Sir... But... You can keep the last of it..." tongue lolling out in a rather funny manner from a third person perspective. An odd face for someone usually so stern.


Leonard's chuckle from before had now become a full blown laugh at Renaria's disappointment in the flavor. "Yes, it is an acquired taste. One that most Roadalians will never get a chance to acquire." He put his glass down on his final word. He did not want to get too inebriated, just something to calm his nerves before being in the presence of Miranda. It was the only way he would be able to do so, and not stick his golden sword through the belly of that witch.


"I know you just got here and I wish we could converse more, but believe it or not, I have a meeting with the Queen and Miranda later today." With that said, Leonard put his finger up slowly to his lips in a hushing gesture.


Renaria still had that half grossed out look on her face. She tried very hard to regain some of her renown composure but the liquid was so dry and it literally burned her throat and tongue oddly. Licking her lips briefly her eyes settled down for a moment as she started to feel oddly warm. Her attention drew back when he mentioned a meeting with the Queen and Miranda before her own eyes narrowed down seriously. She nodded quickly and with that the women stood, probably a fraction too fast as her chair groaned while it slid across the wooden floor. The noise making her wince as she was never one to make a loud noise, ever.


"Alright, General. If that is all you need of me I shall let you be." Pointing her finger towards the ceiling and making a quick circle before dropping that hand fast to the floor, telling him she'd meet him after dark at the Tavern he had specified earlier. She turned on her heel but her foot stepped out suddenly on reflex as her body unnaturally lent to the side more then it should have.


The woman blinked as she straightened, taking another step which seemed only a fraction more solid then the one beforehand, confusion littering her normally expressionless face. The poor dear had never drunk alcohol before and wasn't aware she was tipsy after one drink. Though she wasn't adverse to the warm fuzzy feeling in her tummy.


She didn't even consider how funny her stagger may have looked to General Leonard.


With that the woman silently left the room but closed the door a fraction too loud behind her, hearing the hinges shake and groan.

~~~~~

​

@King Ad Rock

 

[Spacing Out]

Seraphina Aeritheos



She scoffed at how proper Ranaria wanted to act, though she did sense the Sass. 'Always trying to be something she's not, Sif thought. She didn't return the gesture since she could care less about what Azae did especially if it didn't benefit her. She use to be so religious.Praying every night and day for years but they were never answered. She found it was better to get things done on her own, never gave her false hope.

She walked quietly to the horse stables to retrieve her black stallion with large, Dark expressive eyes set wide apart. She patted it on the back before calling out the name"Avila". Instantly the high spirited horse eased itself for Sera to climb onto him. After, clicking her tongue they were off.

It was expected for them to arrive within minutes since the caretaker was already awaiting her entry. She tossed him a small poach of silver pieces whilst jumping off to ensure that Avila was taken care of better than the rest, He was an expensive treasure after all. the servant happily took the leash from her hand to escort the horse to its usual stable. Sif sighed softly with a firm gaze at the Headquarters. She knows that the knights usually slept and spent their leisure here but she had never done so herself. She only entered her private chambers when it was necessary or if she anticipated a long day ahead which was quite rare. She had a luxurious estate of her own not too far from the capital. Why the hell would she voluntarily want to rest here?

Sera went her common route to her boudoir, leaving her door ajar. She removed her armor to personally cleanse it from the filth of the village. She took pride in her work, making sure her breastplate shined after she was through with it. Alas her concentration was disturbed by the various footsteps of the attendants holding fruits,cheeses, breads,and a goblet filled with water. "My Lady, We have brought the food you've requested." One of them announced. Sera only gave them a quick flick of her wrist prior to them closing the door and placing the food and drink beside her, quickly filimg themselves before her when they were done. "What is it that you want? I would expect you to have something new to report, if you had to make an excuse to enter without doing anything suspicious. Go on, I'm all ears." Seraphina said as she took a slice of bread, preparing to take a bite.

"Last night Captain Janer and General Roadalia were involved in a heated argument in the captain's room. It was about the Queen and the decision potential decision to revolt against her. I could only get a grasp of their interaction but they have decided to meet at the Red swan Tavern at midnight. They agreed to inform few including Thera and Ranaria." Seraphina was surprised to hear that the leaders of the country was against their Queen so soon but of course it was expected. Only a handful had loyalty now-a-days however she was still intrigued. "You are sure of this?"



"I swear it on my life." He announced in a hushed tone, perfoming bow to her as did the others shortly after. A smirk appeared on her face as she rose up and graced her way to a compartment. Inside it was a medium chest full of money that she had for times like this. She took a plethora of gold, giving them an even amount, watching their eyes gleam with wonder.



Seraphina bribed everyone for information and support. From the soldiers to the maids, They all worked for her. She went far enough to forming a group of young and beautiful women that are trained and polished to sleep with important noblemen and report back to their mistress about information involving secret meetings, changing written contracts,changing personal opinions, agreements, and political interests. Money and Knowledge was power and she surely had that.



"My My My, the Queen is in tragic times. Surrounded by Wolves in sheep's clothing but I will make sure that this is all taken cared of. I want one of you to tell the owner to keep a close eye on their discussion and order the waiters to do the same." They nodded as they began to exit out with their pockets filled with coins. She didn't plan to report her findings to the Queen, she needed to know more. She planned to personal go to the Tavern and hear their plots with her own ears.she was sure that her title will be promoted and she would finally be acknowledged after she reveal the truth. For now she had to be patient. All good will come to those who wait.

 
​

 

[Crucified Fear]

Kael was floating. In fact he wasn't even sure if he was within the mortal confines of his flesh. He felt different. Ethereal. In that moment all of the secrets the cosmos harbored were made clear to him. He saw stars coallescing into spinning clusters called galaxies, which reached out into the darkness with arms that reached out into unfathomable distances into the abyss. He saw worlds. He saw their civilizations. Their rise from their own primordial sludge. To their first steps and first words.


All of their wars and all of their love. He saw the life giving balls of light that these planets orbited expand and turn crimson, and devour these worlds. Erase them from the universe's record.


And then he saw more take their place.


Billions of years of life, evolution and knowledge.


In an instant.


The ephemeral nature of our being.


Love.


Madness.


War.


Resolve. Survive. Rebuild. Repeat.


And then the spectacular globs of light and sounds were gone. Azae's messengers grew silent. Kael found himself standing on a beach, lulling waves crashing behind him. Gulls chirped and bickered but a serenity still fell on Yensa. Before him stood a woman. He had never met her but knew who she was through the stories his father told.


She died many years ago, making the ultimate sacrifice.


Giving birth to Kael Gilgrend.


Her life for his.


Fair skinned with flowing brown hair, she was a true beauty and a jewel encrusted in the harsh Gilgrend name. The small rising at the corners of her lips have her an aura of wisdom, her mouth opened to speak.


Kael listened. But only silence. Such has been the lifelong relationship with his mother.


She stood their, mouth gaping and unblinking. Frozen in a pose of eternal question or perhaps terror.


And then her eyes became red and fierce. A predators eyes as incandescent as the sun. Deep from the bowels of her throat came a roar. A hungry snarl. A monster.


Garnerge.


Kaels eyes snapped open, His visions forgotten. He was acutely aware of the fierce burning from his left hand. A large hand was wrapped around his waist, and toting him like a childs doll. The stench of rotting flesh overwhelmed him. He stared into darkness. Into the literal jaws of destruction, as Garnerge brought him closer to his gaping mouth.


Kael placed the palm of his left hand on the point of the beasts nose and pushed with everything he had. Garnerge simply found this amusing, and became like a child playing with its food. With a low chuckle, Garnerges tongue lolled out the tip flicking Kael across the cheek.


His opening.


Kael seized the monsters tongue with his right hand and yanked, sending Garnerge into a frenzy. The beast thrashed and spun, and Kael used the tongue that had been dried by smoke as a rein.


In a final act of desperation, Garnerge threw Kael to seperate them, but the former military commander was tenacious and refused to relent, the result being the tongue dislodging from the beasts skull with a loud popping noise. It felt like a drumstick being pulled off a chicken.


Garnerge howled, black goo flowing from his mouth.


Kael gathered himself as best he could, half running half limping into the tree line,leaving his weapons behind and not realizing he still had the tongue clenched in his hand.


Within minutes he heard voices deeper within the woods. Something about surgeons and Tral-El. He was still on his feet but moved at a crawl now.


"R..run...run..run...RUN" he gasped and shouted to the unseen folk.


From a distance, Garnerge let out a roar that shook the Earth.