Fantasy Terryal: The First Age of Man

[Original Hylion]

Survivors plucked from what they could scavenge. Amongst the charred corpses and ashes of home, there was nothing but despair. There were near to no Wolves left to defend the civilians, so the refugees of Zephyr would have to leave with haste. Those Wolves that were left were hard pressed on guiding the survivors to a nearby city where they could find refuge. There were a few very small cities on the western coast, the closest large city that owned a portion of area was Ur, but their relation with Zephyr lacked, as they enjoyed war with the creatures of the unexplored further south. There was a line of mountains in the way of the other city-states, a large mass of refugees would have no easy time traversing through there. They would have no choice but to separate amongst the villages, or funnel into Ur and be adapted into their draft. The remaining Wolves debated over other options, but the lack of a higher command left them arguing over rank. The people tried to gather items and food for the travel, very little was left. Among the scavenging masses, a rider trotted through the ruins. His hair was a very pure and clean white slicked back as it was long enough in length to cover his eyes with several ties to keep it from falling forward, and his skin was quite pale in color and his young but strong face, and his eyes shined a bright sky like blue. He was adorned in red plated armor, with the crest of the Djinn wolves on its chest and shoulders. The crest was a very simple silver wolf head, small and nicely detailed, but added nothing but aesthetic design. It was definitely a high costing coat of armor. The man carried a spear at his side; the same spear the Wolves carried. He seemed tired, his eyes heavy and his shoulders dropped. He looked ready to collapse. Amongst the scavengers, he seemed like a lone guard watching over the charred-with-black ruins of Zephyr. His moment standing amongst the crowd was short, as he proceeded to lead his horse further into the rubble. There was much left in the cathedral, but nothing of very high value, looters had hit here first. The Hunt district was nearly gone entirely, and amongst the piles of ruined buildings; small creatures that survived had endeavored to make homes amongst the warm ashes. The districts were burnt, every house had been razed, and nothing was standing too tall. The castle was in ruins as well, nothing left of it. Something had gone through and personally destroyed every inch of it. The rider continued to urge his horse forward, scanning over for any traces of something. He found the pathway of corpses and he recognized their dress. He could consider himself one of them, but in luck he was away, on family errands. He nudged his horse onward, avoiding the bodies, attempting to respect some of what was left of Zephyr. He came upon where there was most wreckage. Something large had been trampling back and forth through this spot in front of the castle. It was flattened out, the buildings completely lifted from their foundations. The rider scanned the area for a few moments, and then moved on to examine the castle’s fallen stone. In the castle, he found a lone monk praying.


“Why pray,” the rider kept his horse from intruding the man’s space, “Zephyr is gone, its people no longer capable of being as such, and its royal line without heir.” The rider had a young voice, he was not old, and his voice gave him the façade that he was quite near his twenties. “There are people who are injured, and people in need of help now from fellow kin, so why pray to gods that may never answer?”


“A god did this,” the monk replied, “for what reasons, it is not known, but I pray to that god who did this.”


“Why pray to that god, the god who slaughtered those of your city?”


“None else would, now,” He kept his head down, and his hands clasped up to the air, “We are taught to pray to everyone equally, so I pray to those who are subject to avoid, or subjected to be prayed against.”


“Who is this god?”


“His name was not spoken, but I was close to the Alpha during his final stand against the flaming giant. He gave it a description. I am no man of language, but I call him Crimston, by the Alpha’s words against the giant.”


“Tell me of this giant.”


“It was not the giant that did this to our people,” the monk began, “but the man who took resident in its body.”


“The giant was a vessel?”


“Like the ships that carry men and spices across seas.”


“And who manned this vessel?”


“Crimston. The Alpha was able to enter into the giant’s body without being set entirely aflame. He was able to drive Crimston from its bowels. The giant’s chest opened and from two horses made from molten rock with manes of fire guided a great chariot out of the giant’s open torso. Upon the chariot sat the god, Crimston.”


“Describe to me, this Crimston, what does he appear to be?”


“One cannot describe a god.”


“Do your best.”


“A cloak one would see in the far reaches of the north, made of black and designed with fiendish appearance, truly a menacing deity. Chest was barrel shaped, and the mass of the humanoid form was huge and inhuman. Armor plated its arms and hands, with a handle of a sword perched at its waist. Legs were covered in chainmail and armor, all black of charred color. There was no real body there, only a flame that gave a form to wear the coat and armor. As a face, there was a mask, a mask that would only cover one’s eyes and forehead. The entirety of the body spewed fire from any area that allowed it to escape. When it drew its sword, there was no blade, but in its place a whip of stringed fire extended out some yards and sliced buildings in two. The chariot itself crashed through whatever wall in the way and set fire to any resistance and adjacent objects.” The monk sat up from his prostrated position. “After the castle had been felled, Crimston’s chariot took to the sky.”


“And where did he go?”


“North east.”


“So he is a northern god. He comes to the furthest reach of the realm to trample peaceful Zephyr. Under what motive, under what need does he act with such cruelty?”


“Why does a man feel the need to place his family above others?


“Because Cosmos demands it.”


“Why do what Cosmos demands?”


“Because Cosmos is above us, I would expect you to know that, monk.”


“Then why question a monk who carries out her commands?”


“Because you act against her, heretic.”


“And who are you to dictate what she wishes? Perhaps I act against by her command; perhaps it is her wish to test you, sir? Perhaps I am a tool of her divine works, what would she do if you were to break her tool?”


“Then as a tool of the goddess, dictate my actions to avenge Zephyr.”


“Vengeance?”


“My father is among the corpses that litter the ground. By my right, I deserve to take back from those who took.”


“Then decide yourself, as it is your vengeance.”


“A campaign.”


“Against a god?”


“Yes, he stole the soul of Zephyr, so I shall extinguish his flame.”


“The north is your destination. You’ll need supporters, supplies, money.”


“My position demands respect. I am a man of noble heredity.”


“A Djinn Wolve, one of high rank. Even so, there are others who argue for demand over what is left.”


“I hold the highest ranking crest, they will fall in line.


“You, a man that has never gained respect as the bastard child.”


“Then let them challenge me, as always. If I must once again defeat them by blade or by wit, then so be it.”


“I shall pray for you.”


“Thank you, I fear none else would.” The rider reared his horse away from the monk and redirected towards the outside encampment where the, now homeless, civilians were making shelter. There he would find the Djinn Wolves bickering over whom should take mantle as the new Alpha. While the Djinn Wolves’ need of Rige had been fading, the jobs had been separated between the many veterans and with half of the veterans wiped out during the city’s attack, there was a giant void in power left. At this point, it would be smarter to disperse the Wolves, as their numbers have depleted to nearly nothing and they no longer have any order amongst their ranks. There are three candidates for the next Alpha, arguing over what decisions should be taken now, each decision differing from the other. Beta Bede, the venerable, would take the people across the mountains, where the treacherous travel and the oncoming season of Cold would kill many of the citizens; Beta Vortigern sought to gain protection from Ur and their king, Gilgamesh, there the refugees would most likely be drafted into crusades aiming to explore further south; Beta Alfred considers staying and trying to rebuild before the Cold season arrives, leaving the people defenses against bandits and raiders. Each argued their pros and other’s cons. Their bickering had been attempted to keep within the confines of their tent for some while but soon erupted to cover the entire encampment. It was no trouble finding where they were, in their large tent where they sat over a map of the western coast and the bordering mountain passes. Bede insisted on the mountain passes, suggesting that it would even be possible to split into multiple groups to move quicker; Vortigern kept on about Gilgamesh’s former hospitality towards Zephyr, and Alfred simply spoke of their faults and the immense casualties and loss of honor from either option. The rider pulled his horse up near the tent, near the Wolves guarding the entrance. Merely from the look of him, the Wolves knew to clear way for the superior rank. The dismounted rider reached into the tent, clearing the flaps and entered, the sight of him caused the Betas to silence themselves, as most would when someone disturbs a conversation. He walked to and joined the table of debate, looking over the map of the land.


“You are?” Alfred was the first to speak; he is one of the younger Betas, earning his way to his position by keeping men alive.


“This tent is for negotiations of the future Alpha.” Vortigern spoke, a man known large amounts of successes in exterminating conspirators and insurgencies.


“Worry not, he’s right to be here, same as each you.” Bede, the oldest veteran, spoke. Bede was around since the beginning of the Djinn Wolves, and stands even older than Rige.


“Who is this man? What right does he have to declare Alpha?” Alfred questioned.


“I believe he means the opposite,” the intruder finally spoke, “he considers none capable but himself, correct, Bede?”


Bede kept silent.


“My achievements number much greater than either of you, the title of Alpha should be mine.” Vortigern spoke up.


“You risk the lives of too many.” Bede responded to Vortigern.


“Near to none have ever died under my command.” Said Alfred.


“You cower and coddle your men.” Bede responded to Alfred.


“And what of me,” the rider asked, “why is that I am not suited, what’ve I done to show lack of valiant soul?”


Bede kept silent.


“Perhaps I should be the one to answer that, as I as well have not spoken reason why I am suited for lead man.” He gestured back to the silent Bede, “Then perhaps you should tell us why the venerable Bede is more suited than any other here.”


“I was with him since the beginning, when we left Zephyr in hopes of joining against the diuris. And when we returned, I was still by his side. Most of all, before Rige lead our forces against the giant, we instructed me to guide the citizens to safety, that I shall do.” Bede was forceful in his tone. “I know Rige better than any.”


“Is that so?” The stranger spoke


“Yes, none else survive, his wife gone in the flames, his daughters gone to a far off distances, and his son,” He cut short there.


“Yes, his son?” The rider asked, much more interested in this than the other reasons.


“His son,” Bede’s wrinkles stretched and curled as he narrowed his vision on the intruder, “had shown his disdain for the Wolves when he declined the offer to lead them.”


“Does that not make him the best candidate?”


“You left Zephyr in its time of greatest need. You have no right to any position of power when you make no appearance to defend the men of whom you claim to be deserved leader of.”


“My obligation was to family, to both sibling and father, she needed escort and I supplied my service, as a proper man should.” The stranger continued, “Sure as any father, is that not what you would prefer your son to do for your daughter, nay I should not tread in such territory as tender as a father whom lost daughter and near same as son.”


“I challenge your right!” Bede exclaimed.


“Then you challenge the Alpha’s word.” The stranger’s tone went flat, holding back the unneeded yelling. “We have always been orderly men, and a code had been made for each to follow. One rule sat above all, if you do not recall, we are to listen to the Alpha’s words, to the letter, to and passed the edge of boundaries if matters call dire.”


“And I aim to do what I was demanded, protect the people, the men and women of Zephyr.”


“I swear to you, this will be done, but the command will be under by hand.”


“So you wish to take the glory, bastard.” Vortigern spoke up from his silence, finally catching on.


“No, what I will do will dishonor my name and any recollection of what may come of the Air family. You all will bring honor to the Wolves.” He answered.


“You speak of honoring the Wolves, then what action do you suggest?”


Alfred was curious.


“The Djinn Wolves take charge over all duties. The people may leave as they please, but the Wolves will stay and do their best to rebuild and protect those who wish to stay.”


“Our forces are too few, Gilgamesh could,” Vortigern objected.


“Ur is at war with the species to the south, sacrificing strife for more strife is no solution.”


“We can make it through the mountains!” Bede exclaimed once again.


“Not as the Cold season enters, even small numbers would have difficulty surviving the harsh mountainous trail.”


“And who would lead this operation?” Alfred spoke.


“All three of you, in joint leadership,” he began to elaborate, “Bede, being as you were most supportive of Rige’s ideals, you shall care for the people, be sure to help rebuild where you can. Alfred will account for maintaining relationships between the nearer cities, be sure to keep Gilgamesh from expanding north towards us through negotiable terms. Vortigern shall take care of defending our people, as Rige commanded, he will lead the cavalry and protect the people who choose not to leave their homeland.”


“And what of you, self proclaimed Alpha?” Vortigern spat.


“I will cross the mountains and seek support from our allies.”


“So you wish to escape in Zephyr’s time of need once again.” Bede spoke out.


“If I sought to escape, then why would I dare return?”


They silenced.


“I will not strip you of any men by mandatory decision. I will initiate a small campaign; gather volunteers who would find themselves willing to work under low conditions and pay, seek help from neighboring cities, and from there,” the stranger looked over the group, pausing a short moment, “I will head north, you will not hear from me again unless you hear of me once more of my defeat or of my victory.”


“You jest.” Bede looked up quizzically.


“I leave to accomplish what my father could not, I go to the northern lands, this time not to cut down the diuris, but to seek out Crimston.”


“Crimston?”


“The damned beast that did this to our people, to my father.”


“Now surely you blather crazed buffooneries.”


“No, as a stand from the only son of the Airs family, I shall show that the breeze of Zephyr can become swelling typhoon when angered by flame.”


“You are a crazed bastard. You’ll die before you make it to Byzantium.”


“Then let me be. I walk willingly to my grave, with spear in hand and discontent in heart.” The rider spoke boldly. "We are the Djinn, We are Brotherhood, We strike with the wind, With sharpened fangs, The sun behind our back, Howls are heard through the Realm"


"Throw me to the Wolves;" Bede spoke, "I shall return as Alpha,"


"I serve the Djinn," Vortigern this time, "My strength, honor, and life, Given unto my brothers, For the protection of Zephyr, But above all the pack, And the shield we represent."


"Throw me to the Wolves; I am worthy," The rider added.


"No foe can stand against," now Vortigern, "The Djinn’s ferocity. The pack ready to fight, We guard against the dark, In a world of shadow, We shall not fail."


"Throw me to the Wolves;" Bede spoke again, shutting his eyes, "I shall return as Alpha,"


"If I should fall today," the rider began, "My Brothers’ arms shall bear me, To Zephyr’s shining shores, Bury me where you will, My heart will remain always,"


"Wolf; Brother; Djinn" They all spoke now. "Throw me to the Wolves; I am worthy. We are the Djinn, We are Brotherhood, We strike with the wind, With sharpened fangs, The sun behind our back, Howls are heard through the Realm."


"Throw me to the Wolves; I shall return as Alpha." The rider concluded.


The stranger turned from the group and marched out from the tent, finding that his loose ends had been tied. The veterans glared at the man as he left. The rider quickly took to his horse and led it away from the tent, before any of the Betas took to arguing more. The horse galloped over to hill within the camp, where he could see the edges of the gathering of tents. He called out to the distraught civilians, “Attention!” The encampment slowly brought their attention to the rider.


He brought out his spear and directed it towards the sky. Eyes slowly found themselves on the shine the blade casted. “Attention.” It took little time indeed, but people were indefinitely reluctant to spare their aching ears on a young Djinn Wolve. “The Wolves have come to a decision.” More people perked up to hear the announcement, some already began to scoff at the unheard mandate. “There will be no new Alpha,” that earned more eyes, “Rige is the first and last, and there will be none like him.” There was skepticism in the crowd. “The three Betas, Bede the venerable, Vortigern, and Alfred shall serve as the leaders of the Djinn Wolves. The decision is final. The Djinn Wolves will stay in Zephyr and protect any who wish to rebuild what they can." The civilians seemed unsettled.


"Leave if you please, but we assure you that there is no place like Zephyr.” The crowds stirred, masses whispered of the possibilities of being attacked by foreign raiders, nations invading, and even the giant returning. The rider sat silent for a moment, letting the people take a rest and process the information he had given. The people were distressed, on the verge of rebelling; insurgency could be seen all over the camp. The people were fed up with the Wolves; they had failed to protect them, to do what they had come here and sworn. They wanted something done, something to be done at that moment, to make up for their losses, their family, their grief and despair. They had wrath, they wanted to bring about the reparations that the Wolves had done to them. Their angered grief was simply placed wrongly, they missed their loved ones, their homes, their protection, their lives, their hate was not towards the Wolves but rather the world that had decided it was time for Zephyr to feel undeserved pain. The world, almost Terryal, the inhabitants, the gods, did not want Zephyr. Why though, why would they not want Zephyr, was it because Zephyr was prosperous, Zephyr was peaceful. As if peace was not allowed to exist. Perhaps that was truly it.


“Listen, dear mourners of Zephyr,” the rider attempted to regain the mass’s attention, “I know at this time, each feels wretched hurt. I am sure; there is nary here that does not know how it now feels to lose everything. I assure you all, I feel the same; with you I have lost my home, my birthplace. I have lost my family to the terrible flames of that who did this to us, to our people, to our, oh so, loved Zephyr. Each here has lost someone, something they dreamed of. Some, have lost their lives, some lost their new ones, some have yet to even start theirs, some lost their chance, some lost their loved ones, some lost their mothers, their sons, their daughters,” he paused, “some their fathers, some their homes, some their being of life. I here, stand amongst as what I would hope you all understand as an equal, a man who has lost one as you all had. My sense tells me not to, but I believe it right to tell you all of the man I lost, the man each one of us, today, lost.”


The rider hopped off his horse, to put himself on the same ground as those he spoke to. He took a few breaths; he could feel his neck choking back what felt like tears. He kept strong; he would not allow this to happen now.


“This man, my father, whom now places himself with Sultra , was one of the greatest men I have ever known. One that taught me much, even without being there for me when I was confused, when I did not understand, when around me people had intention of hurting me, when they felt the need to usurp me. My father was still there, the man who founded me as son. My father and I are not related by blood, aye, I am a bastard. I am known as such, for my bastard blood is partly what brings me acknowledgement. My mother, she saw me as an intruder of her house, another mouth to feed, and one that had no deserving to be fed by the noble house of Air. Aye, I am a son of Air, the only and last son of Air. I am Airrow son of Rige. I am the forsaken prodigy whom was deemed to the despised by those who taught, those who raised me. Zephyr itself maimed me of life, the proper life a young man, a young man who takes place as son of one of the most prominent powers within the Realm, deserves. Yet I, as a bastard, was placed on a mantle that would consider me unfit, unrightful of the title son of Rige. And today, I prove those who doubted me right, as I was not here. I failed to do the duty placed upon my shoulders by my surname. My father, my father did my duty for me. I am no man; I am merely a sharpened blade. I will one day die, and no one will remember the name that I own. My father, he is indeed a different being than myself. He will be remembered, his death is untrue, for he cannot be killed, long as he stays in the memory of his people, his people that he worked so hard to protect. The people that I fail to protect. I apologize once more, as this title is not deserved. I give my title, heir to the Alpha, away to three men much more prominent than myself. I give up my rights to Bede the venerable, Alfred, and Vortigern. These men will do the job, and do it properly for I will fail time and time again. Cowardly, you may consider this job I push off to others, but I pray you allow me to redeem myself in way that I specialize. I ride north, far north, and I hunt in the name of Air and vengeance. I intend on bringing about the end of who did this, the end of Crimston."


The civilians stirred, it did not take long to realize who he meant as Crimston. The gritting of teeth and pressure of anger could be felt as the name spread across the crowd. They now knew a name to place their wrath upon.


"If I must do this alone, then so be it, but I will take anyone able and useful along the way. I am a sharpened blade, trained and practiced to kill and to kill well. I ask, to those here, for a guide, for I know very little of the geography of the northern lands. I ask for mystics, for the utility of one is nearly infinite. I ask for monk or healer, for the prevention of death is always needed. I ask for innovation, person that seeks to spread wit among the decisions of travel. And I ask for any who has fire in their heart, fire in their heart that asks to put down Crimston to stand with me.” A speech, the speech was terribly thought out, one not deserving of prize or praise.


Airrow took his horses reigns and guided the stead down the small hill, and made his way towards the crumbled ruins. He would await at his home, what was left of it.<p><a href="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2013_12/57a8be8081169_GreatFireofLondonPainting.jpg.f7f72c51cb3769384c6714e493b86073.jpg" class="ipsAttachLink ipsAttachLink_image"><img data-fileid="10570" src="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2013_12/57a8be8081169_GreatFireofLondonPainting.jpg.f7f72c51cb3769384c6714e493b86073.jpg" class="ipsImage ipsImage_thumbnailed" alt=""></a></p>

 

[Haley]

[Faelynn outskirts of City with Captor, Fox]

​

"Oh.... Cosmos...."


bu-bum bu-bum


"M-my head... ow... w-wha-?"


ba-bum ba-bum crunch ba-bum


"Why-why does my head hurt so much, w-why am I laying on the ground...?"


Faelynn opened her eyes and saw the world completely upside down. She blinked a few times and swallowed hard with a wince as her dry mouth and throat closed and opened back up, unsatisfied with the move. The young woman's pulse pounded in her skull and upper torso that was being held from the ground about a foot by a broken tree, leaving her head laying limp. above the ash and debris covered forest floor. She lifted her hand high enough to graze her fingertips across her body as she made its way to the bridge of her slender nose where she pinched it and gave another low groan. Was her back broken? Was she seriously injured in anyway? She knew she needed to lift her head or try out other parts of her body by moving them but a piece of her was afraid she's discover something she greatly feared.


"Okay, naps over, lovely."


Faelynn's blue eyes snapped open and was greeted by Fox's amused face as he bent down and plucked Faelynn from over the tree and forced her to her feet. The scantily clad woman gasped and winced in pain as she was forced into a standing position so suddenly but as she looked across her body she saw no serious injuries; a few bruises here and there and, a shallow cut down her neck was all the damage that seemed to show but she was sure that come the next day she would be feeling a lot worse in her muscles.


"What are you looking at so smugly?" Faelynn snapped as she immediately wiped ad the dirt and ash from her face that had been caught and held irritatingly in her peripherals.


Fox raised an eyebrow and moved his golden eyes down, obviously resting them on her upper torso/chest.


Faelynn furrowed her eyebrows and looked down to where his eyes were and growled as she noticed the fabric of her kimono torn, with a flap exposing more inner-side-boob than what she wanted her captor to see. "Hey, eyes up her! You'll need more coin than what you have to take a peek at these." She hissed and pulled the fabric over her chest and crossed her arms stiffly.


Fox chuckled and grabbed hold of her upper arm tightly, flicking his knife out at the same time with his other hand. "I'll be getting more coin than you make in a year once I get you out of this Gods forsaken area and to the mountain city of Byzantium where the man who buys from is waiting for you and once he heard of all my trouble he'll be coughing up a little extra. Well, not that I'll really need it since my comrades are dead, no one to split it with." He said, giving a wide smile as if he was a small child receiving a birthday gift.


Faelynn scowled and looked around the burning and broken forest. "hm... w-what happened here?" She mumbled, suddenly more concerned with how she was knocked unconscious and how his comrades died in the first place.


"I mean, when I used to dream of freedom and exploring the world with a wonderful man, this is not what I had in mind." All she could remember was that they were arriving close to the camp where she was to be greeted by Fox's comrades, and as she was just getting to where she could see them, some sort of roaring explosion sounded over them and, before she could turn her head to see what it was, she was knocked out, everything was black.


"Yeah, well I don't really know. I want to say it was some fire, molten-fury-God that came crashing through 'ere but that may sound a bit looney so,I'll go with- I don't know what the hell came crashing through over that way that send a whole shitstorm of debris our way but hey, here we are and there we go." He said and started to drag Faelynn back in the direction of Zephyr.


"You're taking me back to town?" She asked, getting a flutter of hope for her survival at the mere thought of being back where she would be noticed.


"Yes ma'am but, don't get any wise ideas. I am sure, by the path of destruction we are following, that the whole place is destroyed and on top of that, we are only passing through for it is one of the easiest paths to Byzantine. Get any ideas to say, I don't know, run away or call for help..."


Faelynn winced as the point of his blade poked stiffly into the lower part of her spine just enough to make her tense up.


"I'll cripple you and leave you bleeding in the middle of the street before anyone can figure out what the hell has happened to you."


"Fair enough." Faelynn gritted her teeth and took a small breath of relief as he relaxed the hidden blade in his hand.


Within half an hour the two reached the city and as Fox guessed, it was destroyed. As they walked through the ash and dust they passed children sobbing, trying to find their family. There were families sitting in front of what was left of their homes, crying and holding each other tight. One woman lay on the ground and as they passed her, Faelynn could see her sobbing into the stiff body of what she could only guess was her daughter. It made Faelynn sick to her stomach but she couldn't stop. She was unable to kneel and offer any help lest she be rewarded with a knife in her back. All Faelynn could do was bow her head and try to block out the sorrow around her. That was until they came to the center of town.


Fox stopped them and tightened the grip on her arm, making sure she didn't attempt to escape into the crowd. Ahead of them a man spoke, attempting to keep the peace but Faelynn didn't pay any attention. She was too fixated on something else. From where she stood she could see the Red Wind district or well, what was left of it. She could feel her lower lip quiver as she looked upon her demolished home and workplace. She thought of all the faces that belonged to the women who worked with her that she had become so close to in the last three years. Women and friends that had become closer to her than her own birth family and now it was all gone, nothing but a pile of burning rubble.


"This day seems to be my lucky day, eh my sweet?" Fox's voice shook her from her haunting thoughts and she looked at him to find him smirking right at her.


"What is it?" She mumbled.


"We've got a little group to travel with and mooch off of." He grinned and started dragging the distressed female down the street. Fox leaned in, touching his lips to her ear. "Now, now lovely. When we go in this home up the ways here, this man will probably ask you some questions. All he needs to know is that there is nuffin' left for you 'ere and you, being my fiance is leaving with me and going to Byzantine, where we'll start a new life, got it?" He growled.


Faelynn opened her mouth to protest but was cut off by the blade sticking her in the back once again. She bit down on her lip and instead of arguing, nodded stiffly.


"Good girl now, don't look no one in the eye, keep your head down and don't leave your darling fiance's side or you'll know what will happen." He cooed and reached up with the blade hidden in his sleeve and ruffled Faelynn's dirty hair, putting it all in her eyes and around her face before continuing to drag her down the road in right into the home of whomever the speaker before was.


"Oi, I heard you're looking for able bodied people to follow you on your journey..." Fox started, putting on his charm just as he did when he met Faelynn. He continued his spiel but Faelynn didn't pay any attention, no. Her gaze was suddenly stuck on the man of the home. The man she had gotten to know very well before he left for almost an entire year. A man who came to her room at the Cloud Nine plenty of times looking for her company.... Airrow Airs.


Faelynn gulped as her blue eyes went wide and she opened her mouth to speak but Fox was quicker and before she could utter a word, the blade was right back in it's spot in the small of her back, threatening to push deeper and Faelynn was silenced before she lowered her eyes quickly to Airrow's boots.

 

[Erica]

Soot and ash coated the remains of Zephyr. They hung thick in the air, forcing the survivors to literally breathe in the remnants of their former prosperity. The heat that had accompanied the city’s destruction remained nearly incomprehensible. Embers would smolder beneath the burnt wreckage for days yet. Worst of all, there were sections of the city where no one - not even those who had lived in Zephyr their entire lives - could determine what had once stood where now there was only rubble and despair.


Shock lingered among the populace; after the initial wailing and crying, most of the survivors walked around in a daze or sat staring at the blackened city in disbelief. Their homes, their businesses, their family - everything that had defined them - destroyed. The numb disbelief was beginning to wear off, though; now fear and anger ripened side-by-side in the hearts of the people. They sought non-existent answer, unattainable relief, and above all, someone to blame. Fear permeated the air, and there were so few people to accuse of wrongdoing. The most convenient scapegoats were the Djinn Wolves, the city’s valiant warriors who had failed to turn back the threat before the city was destroyed.


But they had turned it back. Or one had. The stories were getting jumbled now, then twisted by anger and politic. Even those who condemned their defenders for dying in an attempt to thwart the city’s attackers used one word with reverence, though: Alpha.


Aesriel had only met Rige Airs briefly. He had seemed like a good man, but her opinion didn’t matter. His sacrifice spoke for him. It also left a gaping hole in the city’s defenses, such as they were. They could only hope that his efforts had turned the goliath away for good, because they were in no position to defend themselves.


After fleeing the Hunt with Yurt and the two children, Aesriel had sought out her father. There was no sign of his body, as was the case with so many others. His home was destroyed and there was no sign of him or Lynessa. She had allowed herself to cry that night. The pang of loss would hit her anew at random times this morning, but mostly she tried to remain focused on the question of the day: what to do next.


That was where she faltered. She should check on her mother. Aside from that, no obvious action presented itself. Fleeing with the refuges seemed wrong, but then no one was speaking of seeking out the monster that had destroyed the city. And who could blame them?


When Airrow Airs spoke of what would happen next with the Djinn Wolves, she barely listened. What did that matter to her? But then he spoke of going after the one who destroyed Zephyr. It was foolish. They had seen its power. Still, she found herself nodding.


Aesri scanned the crowd for Yurt. He had stood beside her in the Hunt, before Crimston had arrived. And he was from the north; maybe he would help. Even if he would not go with them, she wanted to say goodbye before she left. Because there was no question in her mind; she would volunteer.


[ @Sol ]

 

[Original Hylion]

Like a pile of dirty black rags, the once large home was now a crumbled pile of rubble. The wall barely reached higher than Airrow's spear. There was nothing left of his home. The only remnants of his room were piles of burnt wood, possibly being pieces of his bed. There were no signs of life anywhere, everything had been destroyed in the fire. He stood where his door would be, looking over the debris of what was once his home. He felt heavier, like something was missing from his skeletal body. His muscles gave out forcing him to slouch and stare down at the charred black floors. They were gone, he understood that. His life in Zephyr was no longer existent. There was nothing left here, and what he had wanted had happened, he could leave and never return. Yet still, Airrow found himself bound to Zephyr, to the great west coast. He could not say he did not miss his home. The freedom of being a child, of being naive and knowing not what these things meant were always blissful. At times, he wished he could go back to those times, be a child and worry not about the affairs of the world. His feelings of obligation pulled at his every side, telling to do this and that. He moved further into his home, looking over the black walls and the piles of charred ashes and wood. He wanted to stay here, help the people in any way he could. His heart told him to run, to never return. But pressing most heavily on his mind, a voice not his own told him to go after Crimston. The north was his destination.


He walked over to a pile of fallen wooden arches. He scanned them over, amongst them he could see a body completely black from char, skin peeled clean off leaving nothing but a crisp carcase. He averted his eyes, keeping his mind off the most morbid of subjects. He made his way to the fallen arches, and began to wrap his arms beneath them. Airrow gave a large grunt and lifted one of the arches off. Beneath it was a hatch leading to a cellar. He reached down to the hatch and attempted to open it, but it snagged on another arch. He paused as he heard an "Oi!" Airrow removed his position from the arch and eyed the hatch for a moment longer, before turning slowly to the first visitors. A man and a woman. The man was rugged, obviously not a blue blood. The woman with him was barely dressed, seemed out of the two, she had gotten into much more trouble. They wondered the obvious question, was he truly accepting people to accompany him to the north.


"Verily, I spoke the truth. I beseech any able to assist in my journey." Airrow peered at the two, watching them approach. From the sight of him, he was obviously a cutthroat. His attention was not heavily on the girl, as the man seemed in much more control in comparison to the other. "I would assume you two intend on joining me." He began to approach the two, "You seem like man of good strength, sirrah, I am sure you can apply good help." He looked to the girl now. "And what of her?" She was obviously saddened. "Sweet miss, raise your chin," he moved a hand under her chin and lifted her face, "a smile amongst adversary is one of great strength, gentle miss, one that would stay beauteous through the greatest of strife holds grace comparable to the goddess." He nodded. Her face was dirty and tired, but she had not changed much at all. "So shall we see a smile, Fae?"


As Fox talked to Airrow, Faelynn could feel her heart beat in her ears. What would happen should he recognize her? What would Fox do? She closed her eyes as Airrow began to respond to her capture's charms. Then, just as she was ready to lie to save her life she felt hands lift her chin and instinctively, she winced, thinking it was Fox but when she opened her blue eyes she looked up to see Airrow gazing back at her, his same friendly look about him. "Do- do you know this man?" Fox sounded surprised to hear Airrow call her name. At first Faelynn was speechless as she looked at the familiar face that used to see so often before he left on family duty. She didn't know what to say, should she lie? Her eyes darted to Fox who looked confused and irritated. Fox took a few dangerous steps over to Airrow. "I'll have to kindly ask you to take your hands from my fiance, sir." He said and out of the corner of Faelynn's eye she could see a piece of the hidden blade move from the sleeve. Faelynn gave a small gasp. Was he really? Was he that stupid? "I-I uh-" She began but the words were caught in her throat and she felt her face began to burn hot.


"Fiance? Well, what a merry occasion!" Airrow exclaimed, removing his hand from soon to be married lass, "I apologize, sirrah, Fae and I were acquaintances some time ago." He nodded to the two. "I am glad the Sultra continues to allow love to prosper even in the most dire of times." This was a grand occasion, a prostitute finding herself a man that would marry her. It was a very odd occasion, but not unbelievable. Airrow was happy Faelyn could get away from the life of w#@re. He smiled to the fellow, "You have yourself a fine lady, my good man, she ranges in skills of those few practiced to those very much so. I am glad to have you both accompany me to the north. Give me your name, sirrah, and I shall be sure to remember it." Airrow sent a hearty swat at the man's shoulder. Then turned from the two and went back to the hatch. He kicked the arch off and lifted the hatch form its closed position.


"Do tell me, good man, how did you meet fair lady Fae?"

 

[Sol]

Plamene pohlcuje vietor.


Plamene pohlcuje vietor.


Plamene pohlcuje vietor.


Fire devours the wind.


It was a creed in the far north. A creed Yurt hoped against all hope that wouldn't spread itself to the South, yet spread it did. He had no idea the secluded ones had influence that ranged this far south. Perhaps they were there for Yurt, as unlikely as it would sound. The secluded ones had no business with a follower of Razranje, the true god of fire. Their pretender god has only been allowed existence through Razranje's mercy, they should cower before the might of Razranje. If only that was the case, the secluded ones are capable of cowing even the mightiest of Agartha's warriors with a simple glare. No, Razranje is allowed existence through the mercy of their chariot lord. A chariot streaking across the smoky sky of Zephyr toward home. Yurt scolded himself for not recognizing the signs earlier, an orb of fire falling from the sky and a being of pure fire and stone, he should have known the secluded ones were coming, he should have began shouting for the people around him to run instead being hung up on the legendary strength of the children to the South.


Yurt had half expected to be executed alongside all other northerners in Zephyr after the Chariot Lord had left in a trail of fire. He was half expect to be herded like cattle by the wolves to be used as sport for the people of Zephyr or to be used as target practice for the Wolves or such. He was surprised that they were put in with the refugees. They had a place to stay among other the Southerners though they were regard with much disdain, they still get food just less than half of what a Southerner would receive. The Wolves were soft to the core, instead of rooting out each and every Northerner and slaughter them, that was how they would do it in the north. The children would be indoctrinated, the women raped and the men slaughtered ever so slowly. The Wolves had a sort of regal air to them now that he had taken the time to observe them, regal, honorable and very soft. It wouldn't be surprising to Yurt if none of them could make the hard decisions. It was even harder to think that the man he met during the Hunt was their leader, a man who so had the air of a leader and formidable warrior.


Today, he was in a crowd, a crowd gathered around a man who had just left the tent of the Djinn Wolves' leadership. Garbed in fine armor and looking as soft as the rest of the Wolves he began addressing the crowd. A droll speech about loss with which Yurt quickly lost interest in, his interest now lay in finding Ezri. It took a while but he found her among the crowd, looking for someone. He approached behind her and tapped her on the back.


"Morning, Ezri. I think I'll join this young boy for his trek into my homeland, as much as he is the son of Rige Airs, he still looks like he should prove himself and the best proving grounds will always be the merciless mother I call my homeland. If he goes on this quest, he shall return a changed man. The North is an unforgiving place and without a guide he's wont to get lost in it and possibly rot there, if none of the barbarians get to him first."


Without even waiting for a response he tapped her again and moved forward into the crowd toward the man they call Airrow Airs. It was tight and stuffy but he had broken through soon enough.


"You there, in the flamboyant armor! You seek the aid of Northerner to guide you across the lands? Well what if I told you had I some idea on a place to gain much information behind this Crimston, the Chariot Lord of the Secluded Ones. A cult whose name is feared and revered throughout the North, and whose God has a powerful physical manifestation. I shall take you and your party to the city of Agartha, my home town, the burning city, the people who worship Razranje, the true god of fire in the North not the Chariot pretender. I know for a fact that my people have long stood against the Secluded Ones but have since devolved into petty cowering at their name. So what say you, Ser Airrow of the Airs clan? What say you to the offer coming from the Northern Filth your people have so aptly called us?"

 

[Haley]

This was it, this is where blood is gong to be spilled but oh, how she wanted desperately for it to not be Airrow's. She remembered him quite well from her days working for Cloud Nine, he was one of her favorites. Just as she was sure Fox was going to stealthily bury his blade in Airrow's neck, his hand retracted and his merry voice rose in congratulations.


Faelynn's eye twitched. Was he freaking serious? Her mouth opened and she almost smacked herself in in the forehead but instead, she only gaped between Fox and Airrows. Her eyes caught Fox's and in return her "fiance" gave a sly wink before smiling back at her old friend. The blade that had begun to show itself slid back into his sleeve and instead of plunging the blade into Airrow's flesh, he gave a friendly pat on the shoulder. He chuckled and laughed as Airrow complimented Faelynn's "skills"


"That she does, that she does. She is priceless. The name is Fox, the pleasure is mine." He smiled broadly and shook Airrow's hand hastily before returning to Faelynn's side. He looked at her with a nervous side glance that told her not to answer her old friend and returned his gaze back to Airrow with a charismatic smile. "Well, we met... uh we met one day..." He began as he racked his brain trying to make something up.


Just as he was about to spout a bunch of bullshit, a Northern looking man with one arm walked in with a booming voice and started talking to Airrow. Fox took a sigh of relief as his interrogator's attention was now directed elsewhere and he leaned in close to Faelynn's ear, making it appear as if he was romancing her secretly.


"Smile, make it look like I am saying sweet things to you." he whispered and squeezed her upper arm uncomfortably.


There was a hint of a wince before she forced a charming smile and moved her eyes desperately to Airrow but it was no use, he seemed to be distracted.


"Good girl, now I am sure that question will pop up again, should he ask we met at the place you wh0red around in and after many visits it was clear we were madly in love. You just couldn't resist me and I suppose I liked you." he chuckled at his own vain joke before pulling away from her ear and giving her a wink.


Faelynn chocked back a scowl and instead, gave a wide, sarcastic smile. "Of course. and what will you do once he learns the truth, you can't go this whole way without him finding out." She spoke through her wide smile.


Fox gave another wink and a half chuckle before stealthily reaching up and yanking her head back by her hair. As she opened her mouth to cry out in pain he quickly dipped her into a kiss and muffled her mouth with his. After only a few moments he brought the two of them back up and chuckled, making some stupid joke about how he just couldn't resist cause she was too cute. As soon as Fox believed the attention on them was off again, he leaned in and lowered his voice.


"Of course I can and you're going to make sure it stays a secret, or I'll slit your pretty little throat in your sleep." he replied with a wink and smile. With that, he leaned forward towards the two men talking and cleared his throat, obviously interrupting them. "So, uh when do we leave?" He smiled.

 

[EliCarter]

Mhara Sacrina





"Hrnnn..."





Breathe, Mhara, breathe.





"Hrrnnnn...geh..."





Her body finally cooperated, her lungs flooding with air as she let out a wet cough, weak and sickly to her own ears. It was the smoke, it had swelled her ribcage and now tainted her clothes with it's dingy smell. She rolled onto her side, her vision blurring and irking her further with it's uselessness.





"Leo...?" she groaned, trying to come to her senses as she waited for her love's reply, but the reply did not come, frantic, she sat up, shoving the soot-covered brush off of her and wrenching herself into a position where she could search for him. There was nothing there, no warm body, no tousled blonde hair... she was alone. Alone... where, exactly?


Heart thumping in her chest Mhara dragged herself to her feet, her limbs groaning in protest as her small body shaked from the abuse she had put it through, yesterday. How had she been separated from Leo? She mulled over the yesterday's events, trying to put together the parts that were fuzzy, she remembered running, and a crowd... but nothing specific...


No, there wasn't time for her to sit and speculate, she needed to move. With a dull aching desperately trying to bring her down, she walked on. Forcing Leo's smile into her mind to drive her onward, she couldn't lose him, not now.


She followed the sounds of voices, the screams of people, wailing for loved ones, their lost lives and children, using them as focus to lead her closer to the mass, despite their cries of agony bringing her into a further state of despair. Stumbling and taking ragged breaths she joined the general mass, her fox ears twitches as she listened to the man speak. His words reminded him of Leo, it's content proposing something she knew he would jump to take the chance on. It was the chance to be a hero. She herself wasn't brave enough to go through with it, but if Leo was in the area, he would waste no chance going in headfirst, so she had to do the same. He could be there, waiting for her.


It was a slim chance, but one she had to take. She would never find him using a conventional method, and she had to act quickly so that she wouldn't be separated from him forever.





"Leo.... LEO!" she cried out desperately, but she knew he wouldn't answer her... with a small swallow she continued in the direction of the ruins, where the man who had spoken had walked off to... the man, he was there, and speaking to the cow, who was standing there along with another man, bright red hair, similar to her own.


Yet, to her dismay, there was no Leo amongst the others, who included the cow, the red haired man, and the nice woman, along with the hawk-nosed man. Tentative she approached the man, regarding his white hair and armor with strange interest as the hawk-nosed man spoke loudly, she placed her hands in front of her, waiting for the red-haired man and hawk-nosed man to finished speaking.





"I'd like to join you as well, sir,"

 

[Ineffectivd]

Ruger stepped over the charred timber that blocked his path and surveyed the carnage that spread out beyond him, as far as his eyes could see. Zephyr was but a remnant of what it had been in the past. He had been here once, taking refuge as he waited for his next orders to come in, got a bit sweet with the lady behind the counter in the tavern, maybe a little intimate. Ruger kicked at the blackened sign that used to hang overhead. This was the reason why mercenaries could never have the best in life. Their jobs would take them further and further away and eventually, either one of them would die, or the other would have found another love. He was all too used to either problem. More often than not, he had also faced an old flame in the fields. And not the ones with the flowers and them running towards each other, leastwise, not without sword in hand. Ruger sighed and smiled slightly upon remembering the beauty of the lady who had shared the same bed as he not more than a year ago. It was quite sad to see her go, bleeding all over the place like that. Ruger knew the procession, the sights, even the smell. The salt of tears, the black of charred death, the crying and the tearful goodbyes as men, women and children wept, howled, screamed for their wives, husbands, lovers, friends, parents, dearest loved ones. He was quite used to it, actually. What was absent in his usual experiences was the proud man that stood in front, announcing his vows, his promises to slay he who has caused this carnage. Ruger recognised that face. He didn't do well with names, though. His leather gloves tightened on the shoulder of a man who roared in approval of the speech.


"You will be excusing me, but what is name of that man there?"


"Hey, hands off, buddy, you dumb or what?"


"Ruger is asking serious question. Look at Ruger's face? Is he dumbing as you say?" Ruger's grip tightened, and the man winced. "Ruger just need answer. Why must you be fuss-making? Come, tell Ruger name."


"A-airrow, Ser."


"Much thanks." Ruger released the man. Yes, Airrow was his name. He promised a better future, revenge for the people. Ruger was too far gone for such things. Heroics were a child's dream, foolish and naive. The cycle of hate and death continues, and heroism was one such part of this vicious cycle. Ruger pulled his gloves on tighter and clenched his fingers, feeling the leather wrap around his hand, and scanned the crowd. His tracking has led him to Zephyr. The child Leo was here. He and his subhuman serving maid. What name was hers again? Madeline? Mary? In any case, it didn't seem as if they were here. Ruger turned to leave the procession of those who dreamed of the hero's dream, wishing he still had his naivete.


"....LEO!"


Ruger stopped in mid-stride and angled his head slightly. Was it a coincidence that there was someone named the same as his mark that resided in the crowd? Gripping his scabbard, he slid back into the crowd, ears peeled for that same voice. He never forget a voice, not especially one of such youth. Not caring who he pushed aside, he brushed through the crowd, his eyes darting here and there, until he came across a young child and a rather outspoken man.


"I'd like to join as well, sir."


Ruger, out of instinct, immediately spoke up. "Oy, little girl, you are so very little. Very young. Too young. You need to grow bit more before taking challenge of heroes. Is only grown men with boy's dreams that pursue these legendic hero doing." Ruger paused, studying her face. She looked...familiar. Something about that face reminded him of someone. It inhibited him from trying to leave her alone to fend for herself. Muttering, he straightened up. "You, girlie, Ruger follow if you are wanting to be hero like men with boy mentalititing. Ruger feel like owing you something. Very peculiar. Maybe is your father. Maybe." Ruger nodded slowly, as if reassuring himself. He faced the Airrow man and continued nodding, clapping one gloved hand on the girl's shoulder. "If wee girl is going, Ruger go. Do not be minding Ruger's vocabularing. Is good with swording, not wording, that is important alone, yes? Har har har har har! Ruger make with the punning!"

 

[Erica]

The crowd grown thick during the speech, and now she found it difficult to spot anyone. While energized by the news, people around her still spoke in hushed tones out of reverence for the dead and grieving. Several people theorized who would go with the young warrior; almost all of them said anyone would have to be insane to make the journey. Yurt found her first, tapping her on the shoulder and surprising her in more ways than one. Before she could broach the subject, he told her he was going - while insulting the Alpha’s son. It made her smile despite herself.


Then suddenly he was gone, carving a path through the crowd before she could say a word. The crowd started to close in his wake, so she hurried to follow after him, muttering, “Excuse me” and occasionally using her staff to keep a space open.


She arrived among the small group forming by Airrow Airs just in time to hear Yurt’s “offer” of help. Coming up behind him, she winced. While she debated whether to try to explain Yurt - and she really didn’t need to, did she? I mean, she had fought with him, but wasn’t his teacher or … whatever. Still, she felt a little responsible and hoped that Airrow wouldn’t be offended too badly… While she was debating what to do, the young girl she had seen during the Hunt came up and volunteered.


Aesriel smiled warmly at the girl, glad that she was not only okay, but still willing to fight. She even felt a little proud for no good reason and was about to ask after the boy that had been with her when yet another man approached, using broken speech to insult the girl, volunteer, and make… a joke?


It was getting crowded around the young Djinn Wolf. So much so that she barely noticed Fox or Fae on the other side of the Yurt and Mhara. Instead, she turned to face the other northerner with a small smirk. “Yes, you’re a pun-master. I’m sure you’re fantastic, but before you go dismissing her, this,” she motioned toward Mhara with an open hand, comfortably falling into instructor mode, “wee girl killed a troll in the Hunt before it started raining fire.” So she left out how the young boy cut off the troll’s arm first; the point would be diluted if she added that detail.


Turning to face Airrow, she set her staff purposefully on the ground and wiped the annoyance from her face before addressing him. “You would do well to accept her help. And you’ll have my hand as a Sage of prvok magic as well.” She paused for just a moment before adding belatedly. “Aesriel Fletcher.”

 

[EliCarter]

Mhara Sacrina





"Oy, little girl, you are so very little. Very young. Too young. "


Mhara bristled, she didn't even have to turn around to know that the large voice was speaking to her. Yet, she did turn, eyeing the man in front of her with impudence, yet despite her glare he continued, speaking in his strange butchered manner. Insults bubbled forward, sitting on the edge of her tongue as yesterday's trials, Leo's disappearance, her state of health, and the situation in general added onto the flames of anger that were slowly starting to make themselves apparent.


Fwap!


Mhara winced, recoiling away from the abrupt clap of his hand on her shoulder, and taking a few steps back, attempting to right her balance as she did so. The man wasn't very tall, in comparison to the other men, and his hair was dull gray, accompanied by gray-ish eyes, dull as well. His armor seemed strange to her, strange that he wore armor with such baggy pants, despite this the shoes he wore were very amusing. Girly boots with pointed toes. But the bottom line was she didn't recognize this man at all, so the fact that he addressed her and touched her so casually was enough to bring out the small reserve of anger she had been hiding in order to travel through the mass of Zephyr survivors peacefully.


"Well, sir," she said, barely able to speak the courteous title without spitting, "I appreciate your concern, but you don't seem to have the perception skills, or the capacity in general to see that I'm perfectly fine taking care of myself. Joining the journey because you think I'm incapable would be your first mistake, touching me again will be your second,"





She stopped there, reaching up to run her hands through her pigtail and rock nervously on her heels, if she continued she was sure to spit out more insults, and without Leo... she wasn't sure how she'd fair in a physical altercation. The panic in her chest ached once more, pressing down the fear of losing Leo further into her mind. The sickening feeling that the thought brought didn't bring her tears, only more anger. Damn the crowds that had separated her from him, she didn't feel their loss, she could never feel their loss, this wasn't her home. Her home wasn't here. It wa-


“Yes, you’re a pun-master. I’m sure you’re fantastic, but before you go dismissing her, this,”, she paused, turning to stare at the woman who had spoken to defend her, it was the woman who had told her to run... “wee girl killed a troll in the Hunt before it started raining fire.”





She stared at her feet, heat flushing across her cheeks as her anger diminished as quickly as it had began, "You flatter me, ma'am," she muttered, scuffing the ruins beneath her feet with the tentative movement of her boot, "And I'd very much like to be a part of your journey, though a member of my party is missing," ...or he could be dead...She shook her head, refusing to believe that Leo would die so quickly, or at all. She swallowed rising panic once more, looking at the rest of the people who very well may be her fellow party members on this quest, an opportunity Leo certainly wouldn't pass up, if he heard, he would have to show up...





"Mhara Sacrina," she finally said, clutching the tattered fabrics of her skirts to curtsy slightly before staring at the pointy-toed boot man once more.


"Ruger feel like owing you something. Very peculiar. Maybe is your father. Maybe," she remembered him saying...her father? A slave? Very peculiar indeed.

 

[Kaine]

The air had been cool, the area quiet and with it a solemn peace. But yet as those events unfolded in the distance, only hatred and despair would come to taint his camp and his pleasure. For he had been in the forests many miles from Zephyr. From here, a view not possible but close enough a faint, dull roar of civilization echoed against the sky. At least until it came. The flames of his fire, licked and growled as the glow of fire and brimstone, dull but there, could be watched from afar. Many in the name of justice, would of rode in, looking for glory and justice.


Not Amras. The only thing to be found while it was there would be death. No glory can be found when simply rushing to your death. Anything or anyone powerful enough to flatten a city would not simply be struck down by the blade of man. He was just glad he was not close enough to hear the cries and screams of the helpless. There was already enough pain within him, that door did not need to be reopened just yet.


He stared at his fire as it seemed to dance a little more wildly than normal, and knowing that his journey would be long, laid down to rest, even if for a little bit. The coming would be arduous.


Sometime later, Raz found himself packing his steed and readying for the short journey to Zephyr or at least what would be left of it. That had been his goal but fate would not have him there during this destruction yet somehow he saw it as a sign. As it had seemed for many years for Amras, his travels were never random and he was always placed somewhere at sometime for reasons beyond him. He was meant to be here at this very moment. He finished with all his gatherings and headed towards the city.


After some traveling not too long or far, he came upon the destruction that was Zephyr. The city reduced to shambles; not a building remained standing, and stone untouched by flame. There were survivors but they were few. Just before arriving within the city, Amras had cloaked himself with a hood, leaving only his snout and hands visible. Zephyr was usually open to his kind but in a time of depression such as this, he felt it might be best if he attempted to blend. Coming to the edge of a large group of survivors, there appeared to be one man drawing everyone’s attention.


Amras watched patiently as the man spoke, and spoke well. Chanting the crowd with visions of revenge, rebuilding and carrying on in the wake of all this destruction. He couldn’t help but be pleased at this man’s speech. It was strong, well thought, and at some points hard to understand with his word usage, but his voice and tone. It was there. This would not be a journey for vengeance solely; no, this was a quest for answers. The god or monster that did this needed to answer for their malevolence, both by word and by blade.


Getting off his mount and tying it off to a piece of debris, he made his way through the crowd, silently. Gently he moved survivors left and right as his path zigzagged towards the man. Some people stared at the man strangely for his furred hands, others were too worried about their loved ones. Silently, he continued through the crowd until he had finally arrived at the location of the speech yet the man was gone. Looking around, he spotted him and continued, swiftly a short ways and soon, many where upon him.


One after another, their conversations strange yet all of them, come to make their pledge as followers of his cause. Amras himself was their for the exact same reason. The large figure approached the group, standing at least a foot taller than most, his hooded robe much like a monks, still covering his face.


Taking one more step closer, he made himself be known to everyone there. “My name is Amras Elanesse,” his hands came up grasping his hood on either side. He pulled it back revealing his true form to be that of a beastia. “And I pledge my sword to your quest.”


Amras needed no more an introduction than that. His arms came up and crossed and he then stepped to the side, letting everyone else continue in their conversations as he waited.

 

[Silver Lion Coalition]

Kalhalar ran towards Zephyr, his staff in hand and his cape flapping behind him, crumbs occasionally flying out of the basket that he still insisted on bringing with him. Confusion clouded his mind. It had been only a few days when they had parted ways with Payge, and even more recently when Gyro had decided to head to the north. Still, the fact that he was headed back to Zephyr wasn’t what confused him. He and his friend Airrow had always planned to return. Indeed, they were already on their journey back. It was the fact that his friend Airrow had run off without him only a day before. They were in Yrgen as Kalhalar remembers. He himself had been having trouble with the city guards, having been accused of practicing magic. For once, though, he actually wasn’t, and it was soon revealed that another man within the area had been the actual criminal. Kalhalar spent the rest of the day and night in the city before realizing that Airrow hadn’t simply wandered off on his own. The entire next day was spent running to Zephyr, as Kalhalar guessed that it was still Airrow’s destination.


Kalhalar could smell the ashes and smoke before he saw the city. His eyes scanned Zephyr as he quickened his pace. Things were not well, then. He slowed as he entered the city, examining the destruction and occasionally putting out fires as he passed them. The pain had been sent deep, not just into the city but into the heart of the land as well.


“No one could possibly…” he stopped himself. As far as he knew, no human could affect the world so immensely. Still, he wondered why someone greater would even attack an entire city. Then, looking around at all the conflicted and broken people, he considered that he might be focusing on the wrong, and yet the thought still clung onto the back of his mind.


He heard talk of Alphas and Betas. He recognized the voice. He soon made his way over to where a crowd was listening as Airrow made a speech. It seemed that he already had a plan. It seemed that he wanted to repay the destruction by seeking out more of it. But there was more to it. There was emotion in the man’s voice, of a strength that Kalhalar had very rarely heard before. An emotion that could very well waylay into foolishness. Still, Kalhalar wouldn’t let his friend to go out north on his own. Once the speech was over, Kalhalar waited as the crowd began to disperse. The air was still cold, even with the fires around the city. Time would continue to pass. Airrow would need to move out quickly to avoid doing most of the traveling during the Cold season. Of course, either way, most of the traveling would be during the Cold season. Taking one last look at the crowd, Kalhalar spotted Airrow and followed him to the remains of his home.


The horse whinnied quietly as Kalhalar briefly patted it and walked inside. Surprise found his face as he noticed that a small crowd had reached the place before him. The words from them barely registered in Kalhalar’s ears as he walked past them. His words were more important. He believed they were. He quickly slipped through them to reach Airrow.


Standing in front his friend, he scanned Airrow’s face before saying, “You do understand what it is that you will be doing?” he gestured towards the others, “What you’re asking these people to do, as well?” This would put a lot of lives at risk simply for revenge, and that would just be the journey there. There was no telling what would happen when they reached their destination. If they reached it.


Airrow took his eyes from the hatch and moved it across the gather crowd, much more than initially intended, but nonetheless an uplifting sight, dangerously uplifting. "I will not give them false hope."


Kalhalar’s gaze slid across the crowd as well. There was conviction in his voice. But still… “You didn’t answer my question.” The seriousness in his voice would have surprised even himself, had the conversation been about anything else. “This is different than what we did before. And Cold is coming.” Something tugged at the back of Kalhalar’s mind, telling him that he couldn’t change Airrow’s mind.


Airrow shut his eyes, listening to his friend. "I know," he responded, "pray we return, friend."


Airrow stepped looked around him once again, examining the large group gathering, each different from one another and each supplying the needs Airrow had called for. A northerner quite rudely forced himself into Airrow's attention. "You, sirrah, are most welcome. As I had said earlier, I need a guide, and a man form the north would be the best candidate." Airrow went to him first, patting his shoulder and nodding to the fellow. "Yurt, I welcome you and appreciate you, my good man." Then the little girl and her comedic custodian. The girl was young, Airrow could instantly recognize her as a hybridia, and the man's accent was of course northern, even thicker than Yurt's. They both her willing, and it seemed welcoming. He was hesitant to allow the girl, but her custodian seemed quite willing to step in as long as she were there and luckily he seemed quite able. "Aye, Ruger, Mhara." Airrow nodded, "I gladly take you with me, if you find yourselves willing to follow." Then the last was the sage girl, a fine miss, with a depressed fire in her eyes. A sage, he knew the mere acknowledgment of the rank was indeed something to be remembered. "Thank you, Lady Fletcher."


Airrow looked to Kal once more, then looked upon his new allies. "There is only a few things I can assure you all," he began, "death will be on necks, holding on our ankles, and standing in our paths." He warned. "But," he added, "we will be remembered, one way or another, as the few who strove to put down a god who thought to do us wrong. Crimston shall be nothing but an ember beneath our heels. I assure this: our destination is final, and we will find victory, even through death."


Kalhalar let out a long sigh. These were not warriors fit to put down a god. They were a ragtag bunch of misfits, with maybe one or two people fit for greatness. He sighed. “Then I will be joining as well. We've traveled together for much of a time already. I won’t split our paths just yet.” And besides, there were surely things that he could do to help the group along, and having another magic-user wouldn’t hurt.


"If any I would tell to stay, it would be you, friend, I fear for you, but I understand you fear for me." He smiled to his friend. "Together then."


This new voice was much deeper, a man pledging his sword to the campaign. Airrow peered to the man, a bestia, mixed with a tiger. Another pledging, joining just in time to hear the declaration. Then no doubt, he would be a worthy companion. "And I assure you, sirrah Amras, your sword will be tempered and made of good use." Airrow went over to his spear, which lay near the hatch. He plucked it up quickly.


"Then together, on my name, we make a pact, under Zephyr, the Airs family, and Cosmos, we swear to end this endeavor. To the north, we aim for Crimston's soul, if the cursed beast carries one." He pointed his spear forward, waiting for any other to join. Kalhalar was quick to step forward, adding his staff in a promise to stay until the task was truly finished.

 

[Ineffectivd]

The Hunt? This girl? Ruger's eyes flashed with something along the lines of interest. The news spread through Terryal like wildfire about this Hunt. Taverns, inns, bars were in an uproar about this Hunt. Those whose tongues he had loosened with a bit of cash revealed that a certain Ubelblatz had taken part in this Hunt along with his serving girl, a hybridia. Was this a coincidence? Her tattered clothing certainly placed her in the light of a serving girl. And her name....isn't that the name of the Leophaz child's servant? His fascination soon slipped away to irritation. What kind of sick man sends children, be they skilled or not, into dangerous lands? There will be hell to pay once he got his hands on the bastard fool. More to the point, if this was the servant girl that followed the Ubelblatz child, then surely he must be nearby. Having met the scorn of two ladies AND found his mark at the same day. Ruger scoffed inwardly. His luck was a two-headed snake as always. Stepping past the new arrivals, a beastia and a man with a staff, he neared the crowd once more, reworking his approach. He had to admit, he was a tad brash earlier.


"Is not so good day for Ruger, eh? Stoking fire in beautiful flower and budding beauty hearts at once. Is not what Ruger wants to wake up to. Sorry for not believing in little girl's prowess with the magicking." He rubbed his chin and tapped his foot, as if trying to remember something, then nodded slowly. "Yes, yes, the Hunt was periling, was it not? Ruger sorry for not going. Very busy that day."


Ruger pulled his sword out of t torso of the beastia and wiped the blood off with a piece of cloth which he discarded into the wind. The white cloth, now sullied with darkening dried blood, was swept away in the grasping hands of the wind, cast off the cliff into the sea beyond.


"Ruger....I thought we were...."


"Friends? Do not play jokering with Ruger. You were ready to cut off Ruger head and serve on silvered plattering. That is not friending. That is what you call it...eh...'hostile behaviour'? Forgive Ruger if wrong. Not good with language. Grew up in farm and with brigands, see?" Ruger planted his pointed boots on the beastia's neck and shifted his weight slightly. "What went so wrong? We were going to be joining the Hunt, and you had to making the big fuss by landing in estate problem. Stupid. Very stupid."


Ruger, his face emotionless, pressed down further until something gave way underfoot, and the beastia went limp, giving only a twitch before all systems halted. Ruger twisted his foot once more, turned and left the grassy knoll, the blades of the grass waving in the breeze, the dead soldiers' own steel blades unmoving, their blood nourishing the ground, as will the bodies when the decomposition sets in.


"Yes. Very busy. Estate problem." Ruger gave a querious smirk as he remembered his job from that day. "If Ruger know he would be meeting beauties, surely, sordid affair would be second in place to Hunt."


"Aye, Ruger, Mhara." Airrow nodded, "I gladly take you with me, if you find yourselves willing to follow."


The Airrow man proceeded to accept the rest of the arrivals into his party and directed his spear forwards. Was this part of a hero's tradition now? Joining weapons as a pact? Surely, they were jesting. What point was there in such a practice if one day, after they disbanded, one of them could be back to kill the other? In fact, what if one was an assassin hired to take the other out? Were they to lie and cheat and go the lengths to take part in this foolish ritual? Ruger did not voice any of his thoughts, though his expression was clouded, his fingers closing around the hilt of his sword.


"Ruger give blade and life," he said finally, unsheathing his broadsword and joining the other weapons, giving a wink to the Mhara girl and the Fletcher beauty, his smile returning, "so world is not empty of beautiful things. Ruger not so beautiful, he can die for good cause."

 

[Seika-Caxie]

Since the attack on Zephyr happened only last night, the small group approaching from the North Mountainous road that lead to Byzantium were not aware of the carnage that took place in fact no one was. It wasn't until the live forest suddenly ended into a destroyed charred mass of corpses were they aware of something had gone horribly wrong. Before they approached the village, three of the four got off of their horses. It was the woman in a silk blue hooded robe to make the first physical contact; which she did by merely touching a small branch of one of the Evergreens only for it to turn almost instantaneously into ash and dissolving to dust at her very touch. There was no life what so ever...it had all been extinguished.


"This destruction is not from any ordinary forest fire." A meek female voice came out, from a Diuris dressed in a light unbleached linen monk robe.


"No, Yalzera, it's as if Sultra herself abandoned this place." A more assertive, yet protective male voice spoke out, this one a monk dressed in a burgandy-brown slightly rougher linen with mixture of course and fine wool.


"Both of you must return to your sermons, Yalzera and Justin. Sultra would never abandon her children, however she would punish them if..." Came the woman in the blue silk robe before she was interrupted by the lone guard accompanying them.


"Blessed Lucifer would never punish the Diuris so. What could the Hume's of done to be so bad?" The guard, a Diuris and wore the proud armor of one asked.


"Neleron, mind your manners especially in front of Justin. Sultra would punish her children should they forget her and worship themselves instead. I doubt though she caused this, but she is absent from this place." The golden skin woman spoke and stroked her horse as if to calm him.


"Lady Cyzreala, to continue would be too dangerous for you even with a full escort, we must turn back and see you return home safely." Neleron suggested.


"I agree, my Priestess Cyzreala. You are too important to us for anything to happen to you." Yalzera, also a Diuris spoke.


"Yet if we turn back, what of the people? The temple must be made aware should anything of happened." Justin, a Hume and the only one of the small group spoke up.


"Neleron, Yalzera, while I appreciate both of your concerns need I remind you I'm a Priestess of Sultra and it is her will that I strive to follow every waking moment of every waking day out of love and my devotion." Cyzreala spoke, her teal eyes glistening like gems among the carnage, "We have a duty to her and to the people. Should the people have forgotten Sultra like they have through history, they must be reminded that she is more important to us all than Kings, Lords and Barons. Justin is right, we must continue forth as a duty to Sultra and to the people we serve. Yalzera you are a new Priestess and Justin you are still but a monk; Justin knows our duty and Yalzera despite your past you must understand this. Neleron, when we are among the Hume's please talk only of Sultra first. Yes Lucifer and Tenabra are important, but we would not be where we are today without Sultra." Cyzreala spoke.


"Understood, Milady." Neleron spoke with a frustrated sigh, "But you three will stay behind me, especially you Lady Cyzreala." He spoke and moved his horse in front of them.


"Dearest brother, remember we come in peace not out of war, please keep your weapons to your side." Yalzera suggested, yet she shared her brother's concerns for the safety of Cyzreala, a savior to her people and her personal teacher.


"It will be fine, Yalzera, Cyzreala is a strong user of Zazrak and she exels more in diplomacy." Justin suggested trying to comfort Yalzera.


"Justin, you will watch yourself around my sister." Neleron grunted, both to Yalzera's suggestion and Justin's obvious pining for his younger sister.


Cyzreala remained quiet though and sighed. Soon all four of them were mounted on their horses and within the hour had come to the city's limits, where it's gnarled, chard and macabre remains greeted the quartet in a sombre silence. The three of the temple could just feel the trapped and distressed souls; lost, confused, scared and angry. And the one thing they could not see as they looked upon what remained of the city scape was the Church of Sultra. Instead, only the ruined mass of what was the Castle greeted them.


"Where...where is the temple?" Yalzera asked, scared just by looking at the sight.


Justin took a deep breath and exhaled, trying to calm the knot of worry he too was feeling in his chest. "Zephyr never had its stand alone church for centuries, instead the place of worship was located inside the Castle Proper. There are many of us that don't agree to its upfront nature, to go through a Lording before paying respects to the Goddess Sultra." He answered.


"My lady..." Neleron spoke, as he approached Cyzreala and put a caring arm on her shoulder as he watched his protectorate's teal eyes descend on the destroyed city with sad eyes.


"Saint Nerellion instructed here. I was supposed to receive his sermons and blessing last year but Lady Urelesseal needed healing especially since she was with twins." Cyzreala spoke "Here is also the gravesites of four lost Saints, with the fourth Sir Duncan Airs said to be the one to bring this city to peace and turning Sultra's favor on Zephyr. This is according to the ancient Stanza's." A tear came down from her eye and she ignored Neleron's obvious attempt at affection, at least to the younger monk and Diuris Priestess, "No mortal army did this. This was the work of a God. Come, we must hasten fourth and help these people." Cyzreala spoke and pulled her shoulder free before leading the four of them down to the survivor's encampment.


"Yes...Milady..." Neleron spoke, a frustrated yet sadness in his eyes. He was startled out of it only when Yalzera put her hand on his lower arm.


"Please don't feel so sad brother, you of all people know what a sad life she has lead. At least she lets you put your hand on her shoulder; none have got any closer to her than you." Yalzera spoke, trying to cheer her older brother up.


"...I'll be fine...thank you, Yalzera" Neleron replied to his sister before he took off to guard his Lady Priestess.


"The Temple still refuses to give out any information regarding her Nephew." Justin spoke as he approached Yalzera, "Yet even so your brother still looks for her Nephew and any information on the whereabouts of her father."


"He loves her." Yalzera spoke, "Yet all she knows is being alone since the death of her sister." Yalzera was sad by this.


"But she had Priestess Melissa, the same Melissa that taught her so much and..." Justin argued yet was cut off by Yalzera


"Cyzreala doesn't remember Melissa. She has trouble even with remembering her own sister, Nurealla." Yalzera spoke and then with a saddened tone continued "There are things the Temple keeps secret for our own protection and Sanity. Cyzreala is a strong and important healer...but when it comes to matters of the heart she's a lost drifter who's been long cast out at sea." Yalzera shook her head in saddness.


"You don't feel that your brother is the Captain to rescue her then? To show her the way?" Justin asked.


"No...as of this point I do not. However I know just by watching him, she is capable of it it's just...hidden by walls strong enough to block out her pain and anguish associated with it." Yalzera spoke.


Justin was about to respond until he saw the distance that Cyzreala and Neleron left between the two of them. "We must continue this conversation at a later date and move with haste." He spoke.


"I agree, the our lady Priestess will need our help." Yalzera half smiled which made Justin smile. The two of them then used their horses in a pace just quicker than a horse's trot to catch up with Cyzreala and her body guard, Neleron.


..............


The sight that greeted them in the city was even more depressing than the city scape and what could be assumed the city guards were arguing amongst themselves trying to reach a decision in their planning. It was the people though that the four could see the most pain in, even hard Neleron was affected.


Some who saw the Diuris looked away in pain, while others were too sad and depressed to even look up to notice. All four of the small group dismounted their horses and carefully worked their way way around the broken corpses and the saddened yet angered living people.


"My Lady?" Neleron asked, looking concerned for Cyzreala now more than ever as we was nervous for her well being just being here. And his worries proved valid when two men who had lost their wives and children began to point fingers at the Diuris and blame them.


"It was them! It was them who summoned Crimston, them to doom us all!" The man tried screaming but had inhaled too much smoke from the fire and was dying of smoke inhalation.


"Damn Diuris, to war with us and take our land!" This man yelled, himself missing an arm.


"Silence! I will not have you talking to Lady Cyzreala like that!" Neleron bellowed and was about to draw his blade before Justin stepped between him and the two men who had gathered a crowd of the refugees.


"My good men, we are not of the army but of the Temple of Lady Sultra. We come here to honor the fallen saints, but now we are here to heal you all." Justin removed his hood to show all that he was Hume like them.


Cyzreala though was already upon the first man to speak. She placed her hands on his chest and worked her magic, soon a toxic cloud of black left him and fell to the floor. The man could breathe again and stand on his own without coughing. Without speaking a word, Cyzreala was soon on the man with a missing arm and before the Hume refugees, soon closing and healing the wound so it wouldn't leave an infection. Both were left baffled as to why someone they were accusing of summoning an evil god would heal them. Shame silenced them and soon the small group from the north began to be crowded with people in dire need of healing.


One was a woman with a small babe just barely clinging to life. The poor thing had third degree burns over most of her small body. The woman lost her husband and two older children. The woman was trying all she could to keep her child alive, but the babe only got weaker and weaker. Cyzreala took the babe in her arms and soon healed her, the baby began crying and the woman began crying tears of joy and hugged her mewling to her chest and could only whisper thank you.


All three of Cyzreala's group could see the love she had for children in her own eyes, the only time she would ever show such an emotion. It was especially of concern to Neleron, who was going to move in to say 'We could have one' before both his sister stopped him and Cyzreala spoke.


"Justin, I want you to head to the temple and check on survivors, please come back within the hour when you do." Cyzreala spoke in between healing the refugees. "Yalzera, I want you to stay here and help me heal these people. Neleron please watch over us and our horses and please stay nearby with your sword sheathed."


"Yes Priestess Cyzreala." Justin spoke


"As you wish my lady." Yalzera and Neleron spoke in unison. Justin soon left to make his way to what remained of Zephyr's 'Temple' with his horse.


With the Monk temporarily gone, the two priestess's took to work healing the people taking the most severe cases first before they addressed the least concerns. Soon the worst were healed and both Yalzera and Cyzreala felt tired. Whereas Cyzreala could stand on her own having used Zazrak for many years, Yalzera needed Neleron's help to support her. Some of the people went to go get the guards who needed healing while Cyzreala left Neleron's side for a moment to go find someone in charge.


Whom she found was Airrow Airs who was still looking for members to join him. From the people she learned he was to go in search and destroy Crimston, the fiery chariot angry god that laid waste to this city through use of a Giant.


"I Priestess Cyzreala Daelanore Orchadea of the Temple of Sultra would like to pledge my service to you young Airs Lord, descendant of Sir Duncan Airs and passed Saint of Zephyr. Yet I would like some time to pray to the fallen Saints here before my departure." Cyzreala spoke once the others were done talking with the bastard son of a good man.

 

[EliCarter]

Mhara Sacrina





Mhara's brows furrowed when Airrow said her name along with Ruger's, it was as if he thought of them as a duo, and it was only rubbing salt into her wound, reminding her of Leo's absence. She had half a mind to turn on her heel and sprint back into the crowd, screaming his name once more, but she knew it would be useless.


She watched with keen eyes as the others placed their weapons together, thrusting them forth as if they were making some sort of pact. She didn't have a weapon herself, but she figured not joining in would signal that she wasn't going to be a definite part of the group. She tentatively reached her hand out, holding just eye enough so that it was near the other weapons, but she wasn't quite tall enough to reach where they all connected. So she stood, uncomfortably, with her palm stretched out in that strange position.


Beauty...what a strange thing to be called by an older man, he was right in calling the blonde woman that, she was gorgeous, and she managed to pull off an aura of authority, yet... when it was aimed towards her... the words seemed empty...Yet, despite this, her cheeks still flushed, and she looked away, finding a nice point away from the group to stare at.


"For the Crimston's soul..." she muttered quietly, interesting enough, her point of interest was the beastia man who had announced he would be tagging along. Their rag-tag group continued to get stranger by the second.

 

[Erica]

The cluster of people around the late Alpha’s son was growing larger by the minute. She wanted to ask Mhara what she meant about missing companions, but there wasn’t a chance with new people arriving. Aesriel did her best not to stare at the tiger bestia when he pulled back his hood. Luckily, she was saved from making too big a fool of herself by the arrival of an older man who spoke to (okay, argued with) Airrow Airs as if they had known each other a long time. Aesriel glanced briefly at Yurt as they spoke. He was the closest thing she had to a friend here. (And wasn’t that just a sorry state?) The pain of her father’s absence welled up briefly at that realization. Then Ruger was joking again and calling her and Mhara beauties to smooth over their ruffled feathers. She gave him a leery smile in reply.


When Airrow accepted her pledge, she bowed her head and listened to his warning. It wasn’t a great revelation: clearly chasing after Crimston would be dangerous. His declaration seemed to cement that danger, and for the first time in her life, she did not wish instead that she could find a way to escape the adventurer’s path and teach. She could conceive of no better use for her gifts than hunting down the destroyer of Zephyr, even if it would likely cost her life.


Hopefully it wouldn’t come to that, of course.


Ignoring Ruger’s wink with only the barest of blushes, she put her staff in with the other weapons. “For our fathers and our children.” Seeing Mhara’s awkward attempt to join in, she changed the angle of her staff to give the girl a better (and safer) place to grab onto. But it was the girl’s words that made her teacher's proud smile emerge.


"For the Crimston's soul..."

 

[Kaine]

As Amras stood amongst the crowd of volunteers, one by one they pledged their blade and life to man sworn to avenge Zephyr. From what he could grasp of the situation, a few of the members had been fighting some creature here in the town, and upon striking it down, a god of great destruction emerged from its bowels, thus striking the city to wastes. Much of it seemed far fetched, but the leveled landscape sought to say otherwise.


The ones from the hunt seemed to know one another, and some the others seemed like him as well. Some of them seemed to act like they were born for this moment, while others it seemed to be more like a job, casual and unimportant, just a way to make some gold. Either way, everyone had their own reasons. His own being for the sake of seeing the world and possibly finding answers and areas no man has seen or been to before; Adventure. His hand reached back and gripped the hilt of his weapon.


Pulling it out from the sheath and swinging it overhead, he lowered it into the group. His hand above, but came down next to the head of the little girl who’s name was apparently Mhara; a little Hybridia with fox ears. Though he tried not to stare or invade her space, which was easy enough from behind her. Raz was tall so he could easily reach over, but the crowding of everyone, it was still a little tight. Glanced, side to side, taking in the faces of everyone in their group. A real rag tag bunch they were.

 

[Original Hylion]

While they stepped up quickly to align blades with him, or whatever item they used for combat, Airrow sensed a slight motion of hesitance from the group. One reason or another, they each had a reason why they could not put themselves in such positions. Airrow felt cruel, asking so much of people he knew very little of, on the only assumption of each urging to revenge the lost in Zephyr. The idea of such feats, going out to hunt and kill a god. As far as Airrow know, from his travels, from his learnings, there had never been a very successful attempt of murdering a god. Finding the god was the first goal, they had only that the god was of northern traits. Airrow could only assume Crimston was based in the north, as well somewhere oft hot, like Agartha, and its burning city. While it was difficult enough getting to Agartha from Zephyr, as it is literally a Realm away, the challenge from there would be finding, or forcing, Crimston in physical form. This campaign was far from some sophisticated invasion, it was a mere oath, if anything, a son has made to his dead father.


Kalhalar had immediately joined his staff, followed by Ruger the northern sell sword, after he made a few comments to the two mages. Then Mhara the hybridia timidly added a hand, as she lacked a weapon. Aesriel the sage, joined her staff as well, in a position to keep Mhara's hand from grazing against the blades. The bestia, Amras, placed his sword in the group as well. Fox placed his small dagger in the group, with Fae at his side. Yurt drew his gladius and placed it amongst the weapons, with an expression of anguish. A small phrase had flowed around between the two magician girls. Airrow turned his attention to them, finding the small expression suitable.


"For the Crimston's Soul, then."


Airrow retracted his spear and look amongst them once more. "We take the mountain pass to Yrgen. We'll spend little time there, as the inhabitants would be unfriendly to some of our folk. We pass through Faernyae, and to Hinxworth, where we can properly supply with horses of good speed. We then head to Byzantium and aim straight for the burning city. I suspect the travel will take a good lengthy time, perhaps until the end of Life season next cycle. I will fund all expenses until the end of the campaign. At the end of the campaign, whatever ending Terryal finds fit, I will be sure each of you who kept with until the ending, are properly paid."


Airrow spotted the diuris approach them and volunteer in time to hear the plan and see the oath be taken.


"Welcome, good priestess Orchadea." She called him lord, something the saints who tutored him had called him. As Rige's son, and Rige being a baron and the Alpha of the Djinn Wolves, Airrow would inherited the title, but until then he could take his father's second title. She mentioned a Sir Duncan, of whom Airrow did not recall. He of most in the Airs tree, but he did not recall the Airs family ever being considered "sirs" or "knights" rather. They were barons, and as barons they could not inherit a title of knight. And further so, Airrow had no recollection of his family having much relation with the saints.


"Lady priestess, I fear you may be mistaking my heritage with another family of similar name. My father was Rige Airs, Alpha of the Djinn Wolves, and I am known as his bastard son, something of most unholiness, though, young priestess, you should nary worry, for I am merely an adopted son and have no blood relation to the Airs family."


He turned his attention back to the group as a whole.


"Prithee wait a moment, I shall return with more to say." Airrow instructed the group before walking back to the hatch he had been originally attempting to open. He dropped into the small hole and spent a few moments. He climbed out carrying a large bag slung over his back. He let out a small whistle and called over his horse. It came trotting over whileAirrow placed the bag on the floor and began pulling out satchels and clinging them and tying them to the horses belt. He then pulled out several small purses and passed them to each of the volunteers.


"This should do to start you each off. Zephyr has very little to give and bargaining may not do well. Do as you please, but arrive here by noon, as then we shall leave."

 

[Sol]

Yurt said nothing as everyone the man they called Airrow Airs addressed the members of this expedition, individually. A brief flash of happiness crossed his face as he was the first accepted into the party and he nodded toward the man. And why wouldn't he? He made the most shameless claim, much had suffered the Chariot Pretender's flame. One way or another he would go home and fight alongside his brothers and sisters against the coming menace. The Chariot Pretender's followers have only flung words and insults the last time they were in Agartha. If those cravens were bold enough to journey south to obliterate a major Southron city then it was high time Yurt took up the mantle of the Slayer once more.


Before he left Agartha for his life with Syracuse and the rest, he had heard whispers that there was one who could reform Yurt, bring back the Slayer and make Agartha's name proud and feared once more. He had turned it down, embittered that he was abandoned after the enemy had taken one of his arms as a trophy. Yurt swore that he'd not fight under Agartha's name again, yet no one bore witness to that and Razaranje could care less about the pledges of his followers. His oath was easily broken like bread, he would fight in the name of Razaranje and Agartha once more. Yurt would see that his body be rebuilt and his title of slayer granted onto him once more through blood.


The Chariot Pretender would fall, Yurt could feel it in his bones, it was either the Pretender or him. He would not dare fight such an opponent with just one hand and sword. He would need his cleavers, his axes and his blades, his spears, all his weapons no doubt kept in Agartha. Most important of all, he would need to follow those whispers a few years ago and pray that whatever was able to make him whole again could do so. He ill afford being a burden to a group of capable warriors, sages and mages. They would leave him behind if he was to show weakness and this Ruger would no doubt know the way to Agartha. If it came to stealing someone else's body and soul, then so be it, Yurt had an idea on who could accomplish that for him. In exchange for a very heavy price, much heavier than just his life and soul.


May the lord Razaranje be in an agreeable mood if we stumble upon him in the North. I'll need to prepare myself for what is to come.


He was snapped out of his planning and scheming when the one they called Airrow Airs handed him a purse. In it were a few coins and an apology from Airrow. There was not much he could do if they were that poor. Most of the metals would have melted at the presence of the Chariot Pretender. Though all metals would melt at the mere presence of Lord Razaranje, the true god over fire. Yurt could assure himself that much, even the air becomes warm when one is near it and hot when one approaches him. He had hoped beyond hope that a fickle god would take notice of a man who slew scores in his name against other deities.


Airrow had told them to be there by noon, which meant Yurt would be sitting down on that same spot by noon, trying to figure out just how to appeal to his patron god in the North. He would very much rather he was given a new body or a grow a new arm before reaching Agartha.

 

[Haley]

Faelynn kept utterly quiet through all the greeting and speeches and the inspirational circle of weapons ritual. She feared should she contribute with her voice, she'd be punished by Fox. That fear, he stabilized with a stern look and a tight hold around her waist with his free arm. Once the coin purses were passed about Fox took not only his, but hers also, with a nod and a smile, swearing to take care of all the needed gathering for them so that she could "rest her dainty feet".


"Now, lovely," He started with a wink as he leaned in close to her ear. "I'm going to gather some needed supplies for this wonderful life journey that we'll surely be cutting out of once we hit Byzantine and you're going to stay right here and keep your pretty mouth shut. Do what you were bred to do and be something to look at and not be heard. If I find out that you did say, I don't know, try to leave or told anyone our arrangement then I'll spend the rest of your days, and trust me they won't be long, hunting you down. Okay?" He gave a small pleasant smile that Faelynn wanted nothing more than to rip from his handsome face, and leaned in and kissed her forehead. "Be back by noon, dear." He announced and turned and walked out.


Faelynn felt her skin crawl and quickly she reached up and wiped the spot on her forehead where his lips touched. She huffed and crossed her arms as her blue eyes traveled across the crowd that had gathered, and was now starting to disperse to gather things. One of the first faces she recognized was the face of Mhara, the uppity preteen with a big mouth and even bigger attitude but, where was her young lover? She raised an eyebrow and searched the room but saw no trace of him, surely he wasn't here, lest the little Fox child be attached to his hip. What could this mean? Broken up? ah well, young love... Faelynn chuckled at the thought and sighed, she never had much a childhood to experience such things. Up until she was sold she was in a house full of sisters on a farm. Her life was full of constant chores and competition against her sisters who were all better at anything and everything, Faelynn never had a chance. Then she was sold and well, there is no such thing as true love in a brothel, "love" goes to the highest bidder. She was almost jealous of the young Hybridia that she now caught herself gazing at and quickly averted her eyes to a spot out the window. She clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth and frowned. Who was she fooling with the silly ideas and thoughts. The boy, Leo was his name? Yeah... he was probably dead. Dead like half of Zeypher. A piece of her wanted to go and talk to her, to ask if she was scared, worried, okay? She also knew that was a stupid idea because frankly Mhara didn't like her. So instead, Faelynn only shrugged to herself and looked down at the floor as she waited for her capture to return.

 

[Erica]

The purse was unexpected but welcome. The others received theirs with mixed reactions. As they did, Aesirel looked over the group again. They made for an odd sight. Warriors, guides, mages, healers, children. None of them looked the part of a hero aside from their leader, except possibly Ruger, the priestess and – if you could put aside prejudices against bestia - Amras. Hopefully appearances were deceptive.


As each of them broke away, Aesriel looked to the other women in particular. Cyzreala seemed intent on conducting prayer, and the quiet woman in the torn dress studied her feet. She nearly asked if she was all right, but quickly thought better of it. So many people around the city bore expressions of shock and mourning. Undoubtedly the woman had lost someone close to her. Aesriel understood that all too well, and chose not to open up that wound. Maybe they would have a chance to talk on the journey.


Aesriel looked briefly at Mhara. Pride came in many forms. Aesri has seen first-hand how capable the fox-eared girl was, but she’d also witnessed Mhara fighting with Leo and seen the worry in the girl’s eyes. With Ruger right there, she didn’t want to ask after Leo and possibly upset the girl. “Horses will be hardest to come by. I’ll see what I can find,” she said to those who hadn’t already left. With a brief glance to Ruger and a nod to Amras, she left for what remained of the market.


She was right: horses were in short supply. Many had run off or been killed in the fires. Those that remained were coveted and often under guard. Aesriel eventually found two for sale at a high price. Between the few supplies she picked up and the horses, she spent all of the coin supplied by Airrow plus a great deal of her own, but without regret. She came back to the meeting place before noon with a warm cloak and a new pack, leading the two horses. She nodded to Yurt and any others gathered, but her brow furrowed at the sight of the woman who remained timid in posture. What was she doing on this trip?


It would be preferable to believe that she stopped herself from asking after the other woman out of a respect for her privacy. The truth was far more convicting: Aesriel feared her own grief might consume her if she spoke to another of theirs. So she let the other woman bear whatever burden she carried in silence and awaited the rest of the party.

 

[Original Hylion]

That down payment would hopefully be enough for them to get what they needed while they were still in Zephyr, and hopefully not be enough to let any of them feel they could ditch the party with just that. Airrow paid no mind to the party as they decided what to do with their newly acquired coin and currency. He still had more items to rummage through in the cellar. Coins were one thing, but they would need traveling supplies, food, and weapons. Airrow went over to Kalhalar and placed a hand on his shoulder.


"Watch my horse, friend, I'll be one moment." He requested before he slipped down into the hatch again.


The cellar was a small place, some five yards underground with a ten by ten square size. It was enough room for he Airs family to store spare rations, as some had begun to collect for the oncoming Cold season. As well, there was blankets and spare coats, followed by some cold spathas. They would do for the journey, at least until they reached the nearest well-to-do town. There they could properly supply on food and equipment. Airrow began with the food, tossing up the baskets, followed by the coats and traveling bags, then the spathas. He searched the cellar for anything else he could find useful, but lacked the confidence in collections of wine's usefulness in the journey. He decided to take a few bottles, perhaps to only keep the party's spirits up. He then climbed out of the hatch and closed the small trap door. When he peered up to look over the group remaining, he found Fae staying put, while, he assumed, Fox was fetching supplies. Yurt was sitting on a piece of fallen wall, watching the sun get higher in the sky, and the sage arriving with a few horses and some supplies. Airrow was surprised she was capable of acquiring them.


Fae seemed overly troubled, most likely due to her entire life burning away, and now she was leaving with her fiance to some far off city. One thing was obvious though, a soon to be married couple would not be coming along on a journey to kill a god without some ulterior motives. In all likelihood, they simply wanted to hitch a ride to get to someplace safer than Zephyr. In honesty, it was fine by him, anything he could do for his people, Airrow found himself completely obligated to do. Well, as long as it did not get in the way of the actual mission.


Yurt was silent, keeping to himself it seemed and very persistent in his sullen exterior. Airrow had no problem with his silence, as long as he spoke up when they reached the north. The point of bringing a northerner was to have someone familiar with the destination. This Yurt lacked an arm, and that could become bothersome during a travel through dangerous lands. Airrow was indifferent about Yurt's disability, as he had seen people with less do much more. He would do and could supply more to the party, just as long as he would do the required job.


The sage seemed resourceful or perhaps just in the know, for she immediately found some horses and a person willing to part with them. Her actions were surprising, or rather her success was, as Airrow doubted he could convince anyone out of their supplies. He doubted the people having a need for currency during this troubled time. If she kept this up, Airrow could consider having her help with accounting the budget for the journey. Airrow was taught some types of math, but was in no way good at it.


Airrow began strapping the supplies to his horse, the food and extra blankets. Then made up the traveling bags and coats, as well strapped a spatha to each. He laid them out, enough for most everyone, though some people may have to go without. He then tended to the food stock, trying to guesstimate the amount they would have before needing to resupply. He guessed it would be enough until the next few towns, thought he thought it safe to perhaps purchase some foodstuffs as soon as people were willing to sell. They had some dried meat, they would have to recook that before eating it; some jerky, though he doubted they were going to lost long now; and some hardtack bread, as well a small bag of flower and olive oil in case they needed to make some extra bread. Sadly, they had lacked any cheese, so they would have to go without dairy products. As for drink, they had wine and lots of it. Airrow had forgotten how much his mother drank. They had enough to make to and over the mountains, but there was not way they would be able to carry it all. Airrow packed them onto his horse, enough wine to equal and maybe last a little longer than the foodstuffs. He then placed the extra wine on small slab of rubble.


"While we wait, come, calm your nerves." He offered the wine.

 

[Kaine]

Amras was rather surprised that the man gave them coin to do with as they pleased. This, in his mind, showed how serious he was about their quest. It was easily double, even triple of the normal coin he received for such bounties. Turning to fetch his horse, the coin shifted in his furred hands as he contemplated what should be bought. He had all the supplies he needed; a little more would be adequate but should he really be buying supplies that where much more needed by the survivors of Zephyr?


The crowd had mostly dispersed since the finish of his announcement for vengeance and his trail to his horse was easily spotted. However, as he came upon his stallion, it was easy to see a few things had been taken. Searching through his satchels and packs he was a little relieved to find that only his rations had been stolen, but so had his liqueur. A special brew that could only be found homemade in nearly any region. It was something he was very fond of and was rather upset that it was gone. But not much else could be done about it. He should of known better than to leave his items on the other side out of view.


His Stallion was a very different breed from those commonly found. He was larger, much larger than a standard pony and colored with white and black; Piebald, to be exact. Raz tried to keep him as well groomed as he could. For a Shire breed, he was not as fast as other smaller ponies, but could easily haul twice the weight or pull as much as a set of mules. For a large Beastia like himself, he needed a strong and sturdy horse for his travels. Scaviin (Scay Ven) had been with him for many years.


He had been gifted to Amras when he left that village to find his way in this world. His friend and companion had a hard saddle with satchels on either side behind the seat. This large bags held most of Raz’s items. Sharpening stones, grooming brush, rations, water, straps, and some other basic supplies. Some things he had just picked up that had no real purpose but if you needed them, they would surely he there. Normally he had his bottle of that but since it had been stolen, it freed up some room. On top of Scaviin’s thighs, behind the seat, was 2 large, thin leather blankets and 4 large wool blankets. Most would carry tent supplies, but for someone who was covered in fur, this was normally not necessary. Raz simply needed something to shield he and his companion from the elements, and a way to stay warm. He had lived in the wild for quite some time, even what felt like months at a time. He was a tiger at heart, after all.


Moving to the market area, or at least what was left of the market of Zephyr, the two searched for any supplies that he or others may need to survive their trip north. Scaviin’s reins within his grasp this time, he kept a close eye on his goods. They spent a good hour or so searching through the goods of the market. His biggest surprise was that no one gave a second look at his animalistic form. Most did not take nicely to his kind, but he guessed in desperate times, coin was coin, regardless of the hand it came from. As they exited the Market, Raz checked his goods, Securing the 3 extra wool blankets, 2 satchels, 3 days rations that would surely only last a single meal between the group, enough single steel knives for each person to have one. For himself, he bought a large steel skewer; it held many purposes, a few pots of different sizes, and an extra water satchel that fit on either side of his normal gear to hold a few extra days worth of water. His Scaviin easily able to carry the extra weight.


Having strapped the extra gear on, he took the reins in hand and walked a few minutes back up to their departure location. As he returned, he saw the hume, Sir Airs, having a drink upon an overturned stone. This made him miss his bottle of liqueur and wine would just not do in its place. Not that it mattered the offer wasn’t for him anyhow. He parked his beastly sized horse over next to a few others. They paled in comparison to his size. Raz pulled the blankets, knives, rations and satchels. He placed them casually next to Airs and his companion.


“Here be ah few blankets, gear for ponies, food ta be divided, extra water on Scaviin and dese.” He put down a pile of rudimentary steel slivers with a single sharpened edge. “If we gonna travel in lands not known, have all hide it on dair body... Everyone wants da fur of ah tiger.” Raz kind of smirked under his breath, as if joking, but as if not joking, however, not being rude, simply trying to joke at prejudices, “Ah simple edge like this saved mah life many times.”


The beastia took a seat near the others so he could listen to any conversations they had.

 

[Haley]

Faelynn sat alone and kept to herself. She watched out of the corners of her blue eyes as people left and returned. One woman came back with horses which surprised Faelynn; well, more impressed than surprised to see someone was willing to sell their horses after this crisis. She had to hand it to this Sage, she was good. As she thought this, she caught herself lifting her head to get a better look, then a giant feline Beastia-male, walking in and blocked her view.


"Aren't thinking of seeking refuge with the Beastia are ya?" She heard a familiar voice that sent chills up her spine, near her ear. He didn't give her time to reply before he was sitting right next to her and setting a few packs of stuff at her feet. "Good, I didn't think so m'dear, don't think that I can't neuter the kitty." He whispered and winked at her with a wicked smile.


"You can't expect me to just not speak to anyone though, Fox. For Gods sake I was a prostitute, talking to people is my forte. People will know something is wrong." She said, attempting to work some of her own skills on him. Perhaps if she got him nervous enough with the fear of what would happen if she did or didn't open her mouth then maybe she could find a way out of this situation. The last thing she wanted to do was be sold to some slave owner in Byzantine.


If Fox was bothered by what she said, he wasn't showing it. He leaned back and smirked, crossing his arms tightly over his chest. "Suppose you're right my little wild flower. You can speak to anyone, go ahead but I'll be close, always... you won't be able to take a piss without me being near and listening. If I hear you utter a single word about our arrangement then... well, I'm sure it's redundant for me to tell you all the things I'd do to you by now." He said with a small smile and slowly reached out, slow enough to increase her pulse with the fear he'd hurt her again and simply moved a piece of fallen hair behind her shoulder.


Faelynn didn't reply to him she swallowed hard and looked away from his smug face. Although she was uncomfortable about the bathroom part, she was still relieved that she would be able to speak to people with less fear of being maimed in some way. Now it was time to well, time to keep the plan to get away from this ass going. She looked down at the bags of things he gathered for the group and grabbed them and stood up before he could say anything. "Allow me, hun." She said stiffly as she walked away and over to airs, looking through the bags to see what in fact he gathered.


As she approached Airs she gave a small smile and sat the bags at his feet. She noticed a lot of wine tied to all the horses and for a moment felt that the trip won't be so bad as long as she was freely given a shit ton of that. She cleared her throat and set the bags next to his feet. "Here is food, mostly bread and cheese... extra arrows fro any archer, rope and..." She rummaged through it a bit more. "More liquor... Well, I am sure we have enough of that but hey..." She said and gave a small smile. She swallowed hard and tried to find the right words to say that wouldn't create extra tension with Fox.


"So, when do we set off? Not too soon I hope... I mean-uh not that there is anything left for me I-um I just thought man, we're really in a hurry to get to uh-" Her eyes darted over to Fox who was staring intently. "To uh- byzantine." She whispered and pursed her lips. She clasped her hands tightly together as she noticed they began to shake a little from the nerves.

 

[Ineffectivd]

"Ha ha! Money! Fresh gold, Tryne! Are you not happy with it, friend?" Ruger laughed joyously, jangling the satchel in front of his friend's face. The noble swordsman, whose coal black eyes saw nothing but despair and the worse of all that was to come, scowled and turned away. She was apparently not as ecstatic as her partner. "Tryne, why do you scar face like so? It hurts Ruger heart to see you unpretty self."


"Ruger, never be happy until your chickens are hatched. There's no guarantee we'll make out of this mission alive. A pre-payment is most likely to pay for your coffin once you fall." Tryne said, her face showing no mirth.


Ruger pursed his lips and stepped towards his friend. "Tryne, you must not be so unhappy all time. Make you look like old hag. Is no good. Many men want marry woman like you, see?"


"Hah, what does a farmhand like you know? It's for my status that they wish my hand, Ruger." A smirk tugged at the corner of Tryne's face as Ruger sat next to her, but she was dead set on hiding her emotions.


"Tsk, tsk, Ruger would marry you if he could, and it is for your fierce beaut--" Ruger found himself kicked off the log that Tryne was sitting on and sent sprawling on the ground. "Oy, this is best clothing! Is only clothing, actually!"


Ruger tipped a few of the coins in the purse into his hands and tossed them into the air and catching them all expertly. Many a watch he had spent in such wasteful practice. He bit into one of them and pocketed that one. He gave the purse back to Airrow, shoving it into his hands with a sort of roughness that did not seem too hostile. "Ruger do not enjoy down payment. Instalment, yes, but only after job is done. If Ruger die pretty death, buy open coffin for Ruger and send card to family. If not so pretty, burn Ruger and buy nice pot to keep ash. Ruger give you address to send pot and or or card." He took out a piece of paper, an empty envelope with an address scrawled in illegible handwriting and jammed it into Airrow's hand as well.


Ruger watched as the dark clouds passed over the sun, enshrouding the tombstone that stuck from the ground. The words could still be barely seen, and the rain that fell soon after almost hid the wailing of a mother who has lost her daughter, and the father's attempts to pull her away.

Trynellior Rorstead


Let it not be said she was a coward. She perished in the hands of vagabonds, as she fended her lands from harm.




​

Ruger straightened up and stepped away from Airrow. He promptly tripped on a nearby rock and was sent spinning around, stumbling into that pink-haired lady from earlier. "Ach, Ruger is clumsy man. Apologies and forgiveness, lady." He looked up straight into the lady's eyes and he froze. Facial structure, hair length and condition, those eyes that ensnared any pitiful soul that came close, so filled with hopelessness that it mired those who had thought to gaze into it. Immediately, Ruger leapt to his feet and gripped the lady's (Faelynn) shoulders.


"Tryne! You! You are not dead? For truth? Is this really dream of Ruger? If so, no waking up! What next, Fasolt around the corner and Numern behind?"