Fantasy ⸸ The Devil's Orphans ⸸

[OverconfidentMagi]

400 Years Ago
⸸​

Every soul fighting on the ground knew instantly the moment she arrived. The midday sky shifted from blue to crimson as a glowing magic circle formed and grew to span from horizon to far horizon. The amount of magic it would take to form such a magic circle, let along power whatever magic the circle itself invoked, was unimaginable. If it was any other creature it would be impossible. But for her it was to be expected. The Devil Amiya had arrived.

She hung in the air over the battlefield, motionless besides the occasional flick of her long tail. Her golden snake-like eyes scanned the fighting going on down below, narrowing as soon as she spotted a human surrounded by a sickening amount of magical power. A Hero. The demons fighting for her could deal with humans, but heroes were beyond them. Those she had to deal with herself. She created a spear in her right hand and threw it. The hero's blessings warned it of the incoming attack, but they were clearly a newer hero, not yet used to blindly obeying when their blessings told them to move. The spear obliterated the hero and surrounding ground. The next hero was smart enough to move the instant his blessings warned him that an attack was coming, but she'd seen which direction he'd dodge to. The spear had struck there instead, killing the hero instantly. She was able to wipe out a dozen more heroes safely by launching spears down at them. Even from such a distance she wasn't so incompetent as to miss. Knowing an attack was coming meant little if they still couldn't avoid being struck.

Finally a hero capable of waging a battle in the sky appeared. Some hero with a glowing golden spear that called lightning forcing her to move. He was better than the ones down below, able to dance through the sky with her for a short time before dying. She returned to observing the battle. The battle had grown messy, demons and humans all mixed up as they tried killing one another. There weren't many heroes left surrounded by just humans. She couldn't keep attacking from range without wiping out demons as well. Her black wings snapped shut as she dove into the battle herself.

Her landing formed a crater, blowing away humans and demons alike. Her tail lashed out to finish off the former before their bodies even fell, and the demons had been healed by her power just as quickly. "Do not die. Fight and win." Her voice echoed across the battlefield and through the minds of her demon soldiers, spurring them to keep fighting. The hero was before her. She did not know what blessings or weapon this one held, but it did not matter. She closed the distance in an instant. The hero's blessing warned them in time to twist around and swing their weapon, a hammer, at the incoming devil. She caught the weapon in her left hand, and the meeting of her cursed hand and the blessed weapon caused a terrible screeching sound that drove both hero and devil back. The devil lunged again, this time catching the hero with her tail and disrupting their counterattack for a fraction of a second. This time her left hand caught the hero in the stomach. The hero's body broke apart into dust. The blessed weapon fell to the ground, where she was forced to leave it. She couldn't touch the thing. So she blasted a crater around it, at the very least delaying the next human from picking it up.

The Devil tore through the battlefield killing one hero after another. Very few heroes gave her trouble. Most were new to being a hero and hadn't had the time to accumulate enough blessings and get used to using them and their weapon. Seeing such dangerous things used to carelessly by humans infuriated her, but all she could do was kill each hero as she found them.

The sound of shattering glass cut through the sounds of battle for a moment. The devil searched for the source with her eyes that could see everything. It was in the sky. Her magic circle that had been pulling power from the world to empower her soldiers was cracked. It looked like something had broken the sky itself. She took to the air and searched. Her eyes could see everything near and far, even the sickening light of blessings surrounding the heroes spread throughout the battlefield, but surrounded by the chaos of battle it took even her a moment to find one specific person among hundreds of thousands.

The hero spotted her first, and the devil's wing was shattered like glass. She turned and found him, the hero Lucas. He held his blessed weapon at his side, Glascar, the glass blade that shattered anything and everything as if it was fragile as glass. He was meeting her gaze despite the distance between them being too far for a human to see, likely one of his many blessings. Lucas had survived multiple campaigns against different devils, his blessings likely numbered in the hundreds. The devil's gaze changed into a glare that would have instantly killed most living creatures, but the hero didn't even flinch. He swept his sword across the battlefield and ended the lives of dozens of demons that had surrounded him, their bodies shattering apart as they fell. The devil flew at him enraged.


The hero Lucas held the devil's gaze even as he felt his blessings breaking one after another from the death pouring through the connection. This was the last devil. He would show her respect as he killed her. When he was forced to repel the demons that threatened to surround him, the devil used that distraction to move. The rise he was standing atop blew apart as the devil smashed into the ground rather than coming directly at him. The hero jumped back to stable footing, only for the devil's tail to catch his leg and drag him back. He couldn't see through the dust and dirt thrown up, but it seemed that she had no such problem. All at once the hero's blessings warned him of incoming danger. A punch? Out of the dust came the devil's fist. All of his blessings were telling him to not let that touch him no matter what. A desperate sweep of his sword shattered the ruined ground beneath them both even further, barely enough of a disruption for that cursed left hand to open next to his head instead of in his face. Demons and humans alike behind him were reduced to dust in an instant. No amount of blessings would protect him from that instant-death power. At least that's what the chill he felt seemed to say. He didn't plan on finding out.

He saw the tail when it came a second time, and he shattered it easily, keeping his guard up for the devil to follow-up with another attack, but it didn't come. She'd hidden in the dust cloud again. His blessing warned him of magic being used, so the hero spun around. It was one of the demons he'd cut down before, somehow now preparing to launch magic at him. What was this? Another of the devil's tricks? The devil struck the moment he was forced to move his blade to cut through the incoming attack magic and the demon casting it. She kicked him with enough force that a dozen of his blessings were broken to keep his body together. But that meant he wasn't hurt and could retaliate instantly. The devil had raised her cursed hand to finish off the hero, not expecting him to be completely fine after taking such a powerful hit. She cried out in shock as the hero's blade shattered the air between them, catching her raised arm in its unreasonable power. She clutched her ruined arm and gave chase. She sacrificed her other wing to the hero's next attack in order to get close before pulling all of the magical energy she'd gathered in the now-broken magical circle above down on top of herself and the hero. She could survive this, she was immortal, but no matter how many blessings the hero had, he would die if she killed him constantly. The magic rained down. Instead of protecting himself, the hero used their closeness to shatter her left arm again, which she'd already restored and had been about to use to kill him.

The hero and devil fought under a rain of deadly magical spears. At some point the hero had closed his eyes, relying solely on his blessings and luck to continue avoiding the spears, while the devil continued to attack him with whichever limb had regenerated after being shattered again and again. Her body was continuously shattered by the hero's weapon and stabbed by her own magical spears, but her immortality kept restoring her over and over. Meanwhile the hero appeared untouched, his blessings breaking to protect him each time he would have died. Their battle lasted only minutes, until finally the devil found an opening. Her cursed left hand grazed the shoulder of the hero's sword arm, reducing it to dust. She must have thought she'd won just then, but the hero caught his sword as it dropped with his other hand and stabbed the point into the devil's chest. Her body shattered with the sound of the whole world breaking.

8 Years Ago
⸸​

The king summoned his children to dine with him. This was highly unusual. He was a father that rarely acknowledged, let alone interacted with, his children. But now they were all gathered at one table to share a meal. It was awkward, not pleasant at all. The king did not know his children, so they had little to genuinely talk about. But he was speaking to them, more than he'd done before. At the end of the meal there was a toast, "to kingdom and to blood", and all of the children drank. It was a nasty dark drink that burned going down, but none dared complain. Only the king drank alcohol.

After the children had imbibed the devil blood and spasmed onto the floor and fallen unconscious, the king stood. "Take them," he ordered. Servants and staff rushed into the hall, gathering up the children to spirit them away. The king was a tall man with a stern face and cold blue eyes. After watching his children be taken away for the last time, he stood by the window and watched his oldest one. He'd nobly fallen in battle, and now those invaders has his body burning outside the castle just to send a message the king was already aware of. He was not an idiot. He knew this was the end for himself and the kingdom he'd given everything to guard. The invaders would soon breach the castle and capture him so he could be publicly executed. He wouldn't give them that satisfaction though. The king took his sword from where he'd had it displayed on the wall of his chamber.

The queen was waiting in the gallery when he returned. She didn't say anything, she just sat and drank the most expensive tea she'd been saving for some special day. That special day hadn't come, so she'd decided to drink it now. There was a bottle of hard spirits on the floor next to her feet as well, no doubt for after the tea. The king had many regrets when it came to his wife. It had been a political marriage, and though they tried they'd never entirely been in love. They'd given up trying after some years, but he still wished he'd been able to make her happier.

"Have you seen Silver?"

The queen raised her cup towards the window. Silver must be out on the balcony. Without him noticing the weather had changed, the grey clouds had opened up and begun to dump their contents over the city. Perhaps some god had taken notice of events down below and decided to fit the mood. The king found Silver standing outside on the balcony as he'd expected. She was completely drenched from the rain. It didn't seem to bother her at all, so he didn't bother commenting. She was staring intently where her son had been burning. The rain had extinguished the flames and obscured seeing what remained, but her eyes hadn't moved from that place. He left her without saying anything.

Just those two. The woman he'd married and the mother of many of his children. Everyone else had left already, either fled on their own or ordered out.

His children would survive this. They would be forced into hiding and hunted for his crimes, but because they were his he knew they were strong and smart enough to survive. Even if a few were found and killed, he'd sent them each somewhere far from the others, so some would make it. He had to think so.

The invaders breached the castle, only to find the king was waiting for them. He might be well past his prime and just one man, not even a hero, but he'd once been a skilled knight himself. The Tyrant King personally killed a dozen knights before dying in battle. His wife the queen was found in the next room already dead from poison. And thus the Kingdom of Arro fell.

 

[EldridSmith]

Jahir stood heavily sweating in front of the unassuming old man. The man looked like any old grandfather that could be found in a village telling stories to the young or spending their twilight years relaxing thanks to their many children and grandchildren. However Jahir knew better, oh how well he knew. For the last eight years this man had raised him on politics, suberfuge, poison, how to be wary of assassination, and countless other things a king would need to know. The old man was Ezekiel Kamau was he used to be his father's spymaster before he retired to merely being the head assassin, before retiring from that position after the eight year period as he spent his time to train Jahir, even in his old age he was still nothing to scoff at. This was the man who put him through brutal training for eight years to increase his speed and strength. A man who could hide a thousand poisons on his body without anyone finding them, who was still as fast as Jahir despite his waning capabilities from age.

Jahir looked up and grinned at Ezekiel after he had caught his breath. He finally managed to catch the speedy old man in his own game, but he was left extremely winded for the effort. The old man had lost his strength, but his speed was still nothing to scoff at and it had taken him the better part of 8 years to get here. Still he finally completed the old man's training in full, he could finally start on his path to becoming king. During his eight years here the old man had put more poisons in his food and drink than he would like to admit, but he was now resistant to all of the ones at the old man's disposal. If not for his height and bright red hair he would have made a good assassin, but he was not an assassin, he was a prince, a man determined to become king or die trying.

The old man grinned back and placed his hand on Jahir's shoulder. "Well done, you have finally become adept enough to venture outside of the jungle. Tomorrow at dawn we shall venture out and begin the path you must take to become king once more. You have familiarized yourself with your role, correct?" Ezekiel inquired with his inspecting gaze. "Yes grandfather." He instinctively replied as their cover story had been set in stone for over a year now, he just had to complete training and they would set out. He was to play the role of a young man named Solus accompanying his grandfather, Barnabas, in his twilight years who wanted to see the world before he died. In the story he had pooled up a meager fortune over his years of farming to pay for the various things they would need to buy on the way. Since he was a frail old man, he was to guard him since he was the strongest of their kin and the best hunter, able to provide most of the food during the journey. In reality they had other plans, still the old man kept their first step of the journey secret from him. Still he was ready for whatever was to come, and he was eager to get started. With these many thoughts on his mind Jahir was dismissed to get some rest before their trek. He calmly watched the setting sun before drifting off to sleep to dream of many things, the dream ending with him becoming king.

 

[sheesh]

"Ah! Great! It's good to see you're awake, Delmar! Come, come. Take an axe and help me split these logs. I aim to halve about fifty of these today. You could probably split this one in one swing, come."

Delmar had just woken up from a midday nap. He found his eyes were growing tired while he read a book he was able to borrow from the nearby farmers. He hadn't been able to read many ever since he left home all those years ago, so he'd been leaping on any chance he got. He'd been woken up by the loud sounds of an axe being driven through wood over the course of many swings. He'd assume he would've been fetched to help regardless of it; he decided to stay inside and ignore the sound regardless - though he got the sense Grisha had started splitting logs in the middle of Delmar's nap on purpose.

He took an axe that laid on the side of the cabin. It was smaller than the one Grisha used. Grisha had made it himself for Delmar when they first started to rebuild the cabin when they got here. He'd made it in mind so that it could fit in Delmar's hands as a boy. He was a lot smaller back then, and neither of them expected the growth spurt he'd gotten around the time he turned sixteen. He didn't grow to be extremely tall, but his hands and feet had grown a lot bigger than anyone would've expected. The size of his axe was exaggerated by the size of Delmar's hands now.

He approached Grisha, who was dripping with sweat. "I was starting to think you'd never wake!" He joked. Not only did this confirm that Grisha was trying to get Delmar to wake up, but it also told Delmar he'd been out here far longer than he originally thought. On the tree stump they normally split logs on was a fair sized log - he'd seen and split many like it; he set his feet shoulder width apart and raised the axe high over his head from his back and slammed the blade down on the log in one fluid, practiced motion.

Crack!

"You aren't still sleeping, are you?" Grisha said, teasingly. Delmar had split the log, but only by a little. Admittedly, he was still trying to wake up. He'd come outside not even a minute after he woke up and probably still couldn't walk in a straight line if he tried to do it casually. He swung again, repeating the motion.

Crack!

The log had split in two this time, the halves both falling in separate directions and thudding on the dirt they landed on. Grisha patted Delmar on his back in a congratulatory manner. "There you are! Plenty like that to split. I'm going to go sit for a bit, you keep swinging just like that, eh?" Grisha said, while he walked inside. Delmar could have swore Grisha said "help" him split the logs - not to just split them. Delmar wasn't really shocked though. This exact scenario had been through the washing bin and drying rack plenty of times. He grabbed another log and centered it on the stump, and then again split it, this time in one swing.

He'd do this for about twenty minutes before he decided to take a break. He sat down on the tree stump he'd been splitting on, sighing at the relief that came with finally relaxing his body for a moment. He looked around. A lot of the trees around their house had been cut down and used for firewood the last few winters, so in a way, they did have a yard - one that was littered with tree stumps - but still, a yard. They'd stop cutting around their cabin early on because having a bunch of stumps around the house wasn't exactly pretty. The trees around weren't very large when you compared them to the massive tours in The Great Forest that wasn't very far away from where they lived.

At the sound, or lack thereof, of splitting wood, Grisha came back out. He'd wiped himself down, but by the way he lacked purpose in his walk Delmar could tell he didn't come out to take his place while he was on break. There was a silence between them. Delmar usually had nothing to say, and that proved to be even more consistent now if the past 8 years weren't enough to prove Delmar wasn't much of a conversationalist. Delmar put his hands on his hips and sighed. "I don't feel like hunting anything today. When you're done, do you mind going up to see Agna and Alvor to see if they have any food to spare?" He asked. It wasn't really a question. It was just phrased to be one. Delmar nodded anyways, as if he had a choice. It was either ask for food or go hunt for something himself, but he was never much of a killer to begin with.

They sat outside in familiar silence for a bit longer until Delmar caught his breath and grabbed his axe again. "Just a few more." Grisha reassured him, "You're doing great, as you always have." Delmar grabbed another log and got back to splitting while Grisha went back inside. Grisha had grown more dependent on Delmar as he got older because Grisha was starting to get old himself. Delmar couldn't reverse the effects of aging. At least, not permanently. Delmar had read books published by doctor's when he was still considered a royal. Some of the things Grisha dealt with lined up with the symptoms of arthritis. Delmar had healed his joints before, but the problem always came back within a year.

He'd fall victim to it too at some point, he assumed. Except there'd be no one to heal him, not even himself. He made it a point to himself to press Grisha for his age. He'd kept it a secret all this time, but the last time Delmar had asked was about three years ago. He just wanted to know when he'd have to deal with old age complications so he wouldn't be shocked when one day the realization hit and he told himself "Wow, I'm getting old." He split another log in half. He wasn't sure how many "a few more" meant. He recalled perfectly that Grisha aimed for fifty split logs, and Delmar had counted forty two.

He was pretty sure that fifty split logs could last them the majority of the upcoming winter. No doubt they'd wind up splitting more, but wood took a long time to dry out before it could properly be used as firewood. He'd learned that after they ran out of firewood last winter and had to freeze while they waited for newly chopped wood to catch fire. 'Never. Again.' He thought to himself while he split an extra log, his swing imbued with his apprehensions about that winter.

After he'd split his fiftieth log, he sat down once again to wipe his brow, and again out came Grisha, this time with a cup. "Have you been watching me?" Delmar asked, dryly. He'd come out the moment he'd sat down this time - much quicker than the last time he took a break. He had to have been prepared. Grisha handed him the cup. It was filled with water, water that Delmar drank down greedily. "Scoot over, Delmar." Grisha said as he tried to take a seat on the stump. Delmar gave him the room and they sat next to each other. Delmar could feel something was coming.

"Is this...really what you want?" Grisha asked. Delmar's eyes widened a bit. He'd never been asked a question like this before. He turned to look at Grisha, where he found that Grisha was looking at him too. "What do you mean? What is "this"?" Grisha turned away and leaned forward, locking his fingers together while he thought. "It's just..." He paused, clearly not having what he wanted to say all the way in mind just yet. Delmar waited expectantly. "You're so much more than...this, I suppose." He finished, gesturing at everything around them.

"You could be anything you wanted. You're strong. You're smart and well-spoken. You could probably pick up any skill you wanted if you tried to learn it. It just doesn't feel right anymore."

"What about that doesn't feel right?"

"It doesn't feel right for me to wake up and then at some point in the day, tell you to go split wood, or to go ask for food. Not only does it feel strange to tell you what to do now that you're a man, it all just feels too simple for someone like you. You've just got so much potential, and I don't want you to waste it around here if you don't want to. Aren't you bored of reading the same handful of books you took from home all those years ago? Of splitting wood? Of waking up and seeing-" He again gestured to the yard full of stumps, "this?" He looked back at Delmar, brow furrowed.

Delmar bowed his head for a moment, but it didn't take long for him to think of a response. "There's not much I can do, Grisha. I'm not sure how recognizable I look from back then, but I'm sure someone will try to kill me once if I go anywhere but here. Thank you, but if I try and use the potential you're talking about, I'll probably be killed before I get anywhere." He said. "I can't fight, and even if I could I can't kill. I wouldn't be able to defend myself."

Grisha huffed. "I had a feeling you'd say that. I just wanted to put it in your head: you could be a lot of things, Delmar." He finished, patting Delmar's back again like he had done so many times before. "Make sure you go and ask the neighbors for spares." He said, before he got up and went back inside. Delmar looked in his cup and finished what was left of it. Grisha had left Delmar a lot to think about as if Delmar didn't already think enough as it was. He rubbed his thumb over the edge of the top of the cup while he turned it slowly in circles.

He'd grown a lot, and looked way different than he did as a boy. Would he really have a chance? The last time he'd seen anyone aside from Grisha and the neighbors, it was because the neighbors had invited some family over. That day they found out what kind of things Delmar could do with just his right hand. Fortunately they'd sworn not to bring anyone else to see such a spectacle, but no doubt they at the least told some stories about Delmar's healing ability which they had started calling his "Grace." Sometimes they even referred to Delmar directly as Grace, adding it to the other names they'd called him over the years.

All he'd ever wanted was to live a simple life. That's what he was doing, wasn't he? If he broke something, he fixed it himself. If he was hungry, he went and got food. Cold? He built his own fire. He was away from people, largely. He looked at his right hand, wrapping in gauze so that he couldn't even see the tips of his fingers. "Maybe he's onto something..." He mused quietly. He was certainly different than most, largely because of his arm. He sighed and put the cup on the stump beside him.

"Just maybe."

 

[Caffeine_Obsessed]

Digging a dagger into the wooden table, Adriel sighed out of boredom. He couldn’t help but miss something. What it was- he couldn’t quite tell, but he knew that it irritated him. With one last forceful stab of the dagger, Adriel got up and out of his old wooden chair. He didn’t even know why he was here, Adriel never spent much of his time in this gods-forsaken cottage. As he watched the sun beginning to shine through the cracks of his walls and ceiling, he rolled his eyes. Another day, another boring schedule. As much as he adores life now, he can’t help but grow bored from it. Nowadays he never got much sleep, he hadn’t really had a need to. So here he stood, awake before the sun had even risen. He had to admit, he was envious of those who could have a peaceful night of sleep, but being awake this much had its perks too he supposed. He had more time to plan the next day, live in his thoughts, and have no one annoy him for his couple hours of solitude.

Brushing a hand through his hair, he let it soothingly trail down to touch the scales on his neck. He’s been through some changes that’s for sure. Whatever his old geezer of a father did to him (and he could only guess the rest of his siblings) sure had an effect on him. After all these years, Adriel still had the urge to wrap his hands around his throat and just squeeze until he was gasping for mercy. But, that’s safely tucked away in his fantasies, he didn’t even know if his father was even alive. With that thought roaming around in his head, the fingers on his neck dug deeper into his scales, causing a comforting pain. He grunted and threw open his cottage doors to head into town, his shadow from the rising sun following along.

As he milled about, he noticed the town was even more barren than usual- though it was to be expected. No one was usually out and about this early in the morning. This gave him time to explore, even though he practically knew every nook and cranny of this village. While passing an alley, Adriel’s ears picked up on people chatting. Recognizing the voices, Adriel’s mouth crooked up into a makeshift smile. He fished his black mouth covering out of his bag, and dutifully put it on. Those few that had first seen his features, suggested that he hide them. He didn’t want others to think he was a demon, or something. Not that he cared what others think of him- he just didn’t want everyone constantly avoiding him. With the covering on, he approached his “friends” with a wave and a chuckle. “Hey guys! Good to see ya up so early in the morning.” His voice was slightly muffled due to the mask, but his companions' eyes lit up in recognition once they saw him. “Oh uh, hey Ravage! Didn't expect to see you here.” His friend, Silos spoke first- Anaya following soon after. “Yeah! We thought we’d be seeing you at the usual spot, Y’know.. with the group.” They both looked at each other nervously, then let out an awkward chuckle- Silos rubbing behind his neck. Adriel quirked a brow, but shrugged it off with a smirk. This wasn’t such unusual behavior. Others never liked being alone with him if they weren’t in a group. “Well, are we up to our usual shenanigans today huh?” He tilted his head, smile widening. They looked at each other once again and shrugged. At this, Adriel’s temper grew fast, his voice elevating. “Well? Cat got your tongue? Ain’t no one gonna speak up?!” They flinched and turned away from Adriel, fear growing. Adriel smiled and burst out in laughter. Slowing down, he wiped a fake tear away and scoffed. “Fine. See you guys later, let’s hope you have your voices then.” He turns away and continues on his path. What a pleasant conversation to start off the day.

When the sun finally reached the sky, Adriel looked around to make sure he was alone. With a satisfied smile, he made his way to the side of a building, preparing himself with short stretches. Once ready, he planted his fingers into the cracks of the wall, hooking the tip of his foot into another, and hauled himself up. He started his way up the building, stray minuscule rocks falling off of where he stood. Reaching the top, he heaved himself up with a grunt, and lay on his back staring at the sky- catching his breath. He felt a surge of laughter bubbling up in his chest, and made no move to stop it erupting from his throat. This was always the best part of the mornings. Sitting up, he set his palms behind him and rose one leg. The breeze flowed through his hair, and he sighed in contentment. The view before him was a sight to behold. Birds chirping, a cool breeze, and the warm sun illuminating everything in its orange-yellow light. It was like his own personal heaven. Hell- even the town was a sight to behold along with it. There was nothing else like this. He sighed wistfully, and took off his glasses- placing them beside him. Adriel laid down snow-angel like, his eyes closed. Even with his group, he felt alone. Secluded. He didn’t mind all that much. He never really interacted with anyone besides his group, even after all this time. He never felt that he belonged here, so he couldn’t fully integrate himself into this town. But he tried his best, even if his best is his worst. He lives most of his life in solitude. No bustling servants, no siblings to annoy, and.. no family. Nor friends. Well, not true friends anyway. He realized that long ago.

 

[ScatheAriiasqDrayceon]

Arias, known locally as "Flame" Arros landed with the silence of a shadow on the withering old roof of a bar that smelled of alcohol and—though faintly so—blood. Their lip curled in disgust as they settled in the dark against a window, eyes trained to the patch of blackness right outside the bar in anticipation. The harsh firelight from lamps burned their pupils with the brightness, the night-aligned assassin unable to stand the feeling of the light.

For two hours, they stayed in the same spot, unnoticed under the cloak of night and the drunks' haze of pleasure or alchohol... or both. They weren't there to judge; just kill. The sun was peeking over rooftops by the time their target was spat out of the establishment, grumbling profanity under his breath. Viridian's calculation was off by two hours. She's wasting their time.

With a silent scoff, Flame dropped down into the alley behind the bar and smoothed the dress they'd tossed over their normal clothes. It wasn't late enough—and far too early—for many to be out and about, which made their job easier as they corrected their stride and all-but glided toward the edge of the darkness, whistling a light tune to grab the intoxicated man's attention. He was a noble of some sort, but always liked to shed his guards around bars so as to not scare the females milling about.

Which worked well in Flame's favor, the kohl lining their eyes accentuating their feminine traits and the wings disguised in the shadows artfully decorated with pink and purple silks.

Their target smiled an ugly smile, the kind that should have sent shivers up their spine even as they giggled in mock attraction, forcing a blush to their face as they recalled the shame of almost being caught in the middle of an assassination. An unpleasant thought, but it brought a flush of red to their face, which encouraged their target's waddling in their direction.

Just as he was about to reach them, Flame giggled again in an exaggerated manner and fled into the dark, pitching their voice painfully high and forcing themself to—by their standards—all but yell a "do you want to have a good time?" in a flirtatiously.

The assassin fled to the back of the bar, hiding in the shadow of the chimney.

Their target hadn't even turned the corner before a blade had gone straight through his throat, the fur "scarf" having concealed a jagged, angry blade that gleamed black even on the brightest of days. Flame twisted the knife, the strong metal cord it was attached to curling around their arm and hissing against their skin like a great serpent, the feeling of cool spirals of metallic threads as familiar as their own hands were.

They finished the even hole in the man's throat with a pleased hum, letting the twitching, spasming body drop to the floor with a dull thump.

Flame shed their accessories, the pink furred scarf being peeled off their dart's black cloth covering as they pulled the folded-over sheath back against the blade.

As the sun peeked over the last house and bathed the streets in golden light, a bloodsoaked figure spread its wings and fled the small town, leaving the body and their own bloody handprints as the only sign they were even there in the first place.

~~~~

The assassin stopped walking (flying intermittently, as well) near a cave near the coast, the steady drip drop of water notably absent. They had to stifle a yawn, though, the midday sun beating down harshly on their back and making it a world of pain to try and look where they were going.

Thankfully, though, the cave was dark yet still warm, even against Flame's bare (still soaked in blood not their own) feet. They didn't really even have to think about where they were moving as they padded past people who they were vaguely familiar but not fully acquainted with. Whoever they were, they dipped their head as they passed, so they were obviously of a lower rank. Recruits, maybe. It's not often Flame sees someone they were unfamiliar with.

Arii's feet brought them to a stop outside a large wooden door, lined with scratch-marks from claws and weapons. It was a deep mahogany in color, rich even in the dim hallways.

"Guildmaster," they greeted hoarsely, the earlier use of their voicebox causing even the quiet language of hums and clicks to be painful.

"State your designation and business here."

"Shadowhunter level 5; Flame. I have completed the contract and seek to give my twelve percent," Flame murmured, staunching a cough.

"Let me see."

The door opened just a crack and Flame hesitantly stuck their nondominant arm through it, allowing their superior to investigate the blood, wings fluttering anxiously behind them. Their guildmaster didn't suspect them of foulplay, did she?

"Very well. You have done your job well, fledgling. Slip the coins under the door."

They bobbed their head, sliding the required amount (okay, maybe it was a bit more, but they didn't have anything to do with gold coins) under the crack in the door. And with that, they turned and left, leaving little bloody footprints that would no doubt stay for a few weeks. They'd been careful to cover their tracks outside, but no one in the guild cared all that much so long as it wouldn't give them away.

Unfortunately for Flame, the barracks were past the mess hall, so around five more minutes of walking led them into a room that smelled of cooking bread and roasted venison that was unpleasantly—though not painfully—bright to their sensitive eyes.

They weren't paying too much attention to their ears, though, so they were taken off-guard when an arm wrapped around their shoulders and the overwhelming stench of someone who's been in the training room, good skies, that reeks get off to envelop them.

Flame blanched with a half-growl, knowing full-well the only person who'd have the gall to touch them after being in the godsdamned training room was safe. Kind-of.

They shoved Carmine off with a snarl and another cough, wings flapping in displeasure as he grinned with all of his teeth. "Aww~ C'mon, little sib! You know you love me!"

They weren't actually siblings. The redhead just liked to say that because he's an ass and they "joined" the guild around the same time... that and he was the same rank, so he could get away with it. Little bastard.

Flame snorted, slowing their wing's rapid fluttering to a slow stretch before tucking everything back in neatly. And without saying a word, they turned on their heel and continued toward the barracks, primarily ignoring Carmine's prattling.

"'Rii, you're not gonna sleep covered in blood like that, are you? The least you could do is rinse off!"

"'Rii" scoffed so hard they paused momentarily to make sure they still had all of their organs.

The scoff turned into a yelp as a hand latched onto the back of their neck and they were abruptly drug backward, Carmine's muttering following even as the door to the barracks—the blessed fucking barracks—moved further and further away. Arii whined, but didn't try and fight back, letting themself be dragged through the time-worn stone halls and toward what could graciously be described as "the bathhouse". It was a glorified puddle that somehow counted as a hotspring.

That detour lasted around an hour, not counting the time Flame used to dunk Carmine in because he stank.

And somehow.

Some. Fucking. How. They were in the exact same spot when they heard the voice they dreaded oh-so-much to hear. A deep baritone masquerading (badly) as a tenor.

"Flame. You're on patrol tomorrow."

It was the afternoon. If they knocked themself out, they might actually get some sleep. "Aye!"

 

[Huntertabbysandshark3]

Malor
interaction:​

the door of the old coaching Inn swung open it’s smacking against the wall hardly audible thanks to the noises inside people drinking talking and listening to the music being played. walking in soon after was a weary-looking merchant not all that uncommon of a sight many of the patrons were of that nature but this man was different they still had that sparkle of adventures youth to them something that would in later years be inevitable crushed due to the job.

the young merchant dragged himself toward the bar counter flopping down onto a free chair before ordering a drink and being met by an incredulous look from the barkeep. For something had drawn the young merchant's attention an incredibly busy table with several people sitting at it having pulled chairs from others to make some seating for themselves. Only truly odd thing was One in the hood and robs, they had shady written all over them yet they seemed to be the center of attention for the little group every so often an arm emerging from the thick fabric as they figure appeared to be telling a story.

the Barkeep set the drink in front of the young merchant making A fake cough to get his attention. “New around here I see then” the barkeep spoke the merchant given a little nod “yes names belthas.. so.. what with the shady fellow?” He’d ask curiously only to get a chuckle in response. ”your defiantly new than first time seeing the grim herald hey? don't worry bout the name but if an in-joke, but he does look like some whack job cultist or something, still a weird one but harmless, sorta shows up every once and a while everyone here got bets on who or what he actually is or if it’s a guy at all” the barkeep rambled on as if this speech was practically rehearsed for anyone new enough to ask prominent Balthas to quirk an eyebrow. “So what your saying is that fellow some homeless wander or a local legend?” He asked barkeep who gave a shrug “bit of both honestly though personally I still think that there a woman saw their hair once” the barkeep replied walking off to server other customs as this conversation had run its course leaving Balthas bemused and confused.

in truth neither were really correct nor anyone for that matter the ”grim herald“ real name was Malorious. Or as he preferred to be called Malor, who was doing what he'd often to tell stories of his travels that he VERY much over blew the tales not that many people around the table minded at all. "so then I said to her well if you really are a newt then where is your wizard hat?" Malor finished the joke that would require a fair deal of context to be amusing luckily everyone else got the joke. overall things were going well, sure he'd been left alone going from place to place as to not very... healthy to stick around anywhere oh well what could you do hey?

 

[Peckinou]

There wasn't many people in the castle as of currently, most were away either taking control of frequent trade routes or just getting more equipment to better rob people with. Honestly they had done a good job on taking control of banditry within the kingdoms, it was great for making profit and keep bandits more organized. The system they put in place had many benefits, and they wouldn't really accept competition or bandits that don't register with them, since it would be bad business if they allowed competition to grow. But nevertheless, no one was bold enough to challenge them yet, and even if someone was they would likely just send another group of bandits to deal with them with some promise of a reward. Still though, Ijekiel couldn't help but wonder if any problems would turn up sooner or later, as of lately things have been too calm, and no real problems have arisen though it could be because their second is already dealing with most of the problems, mostly the non important ones. But as of lately things have become so boring that Ijekiel thought of dealing with something, or maybe even getting out and doing some personal banditry themselves, though it has defiantly been a while since they did that.

With a sigh Ijekiel went to the top of the castle, in order to get a good look over the surrounding area, it wasn't much of a pretty sight to be sure, the swamp rarely was. But it has been a scene that they had gotten pretty use to by now, besides they had already gotten themselves settled in so it seemed to be their home to them. When Ijekiel heard footsteps their eyes shifted towards the sound, seeing that is only their Second, they went on to shrug their shoulders and look back towards the swamp, before simply going on to say "Have any need of me?" . For a moment they were silent but with a sigh they began to speak up "No sir, everything is running smoothly as of right now, i just thought i would come in to check on you.". Ijekiel didn't even look phased by his word, instead opting to just nod along "I am fine, just a bit bored." their Second stiffened a bit after hearing that "If your bored we could -" not even waiting Ijekiel cut him off "I'm fine on exploring the swamp, i think i had enough of going out into the swamp land for a quite a bit, i would prefer for you to just leave me alone as of now, but do call me if any problems that may require my attention, arise" their second nodded their head before turning to walk away saying "If that is what you wish.". With a deep breath Ijekiel sat down leaning against the marble wall, their eyes closed as they began to think about everything that has been bothering them, they considered talking with Yozai, their second in command later on. Since they seemed so disappointed with the conversation they had just now, and it would likely be best to make it up to them in order to make it appear as if they somewhat cared. Though they figured that may wait until later on in the afternoon when they were more willing to go into the swampland.

 

[OverconfidentMagi]

Present
⸸​

Desera Llowen Arros
Location: Southern Jungle (Northwest)

She was hungry. The meat from the ape she'd killed a week ago had run out, so she'd have to kill something else if she wanted meat. The fruit she'd managed to grow (more accurately a tree she'd happened to find) was tasty, but she was definitely more of a carnivore lately. The wild woman that had used the name Carrion most recently pulled on her ragged cloak, barely passable as clothing at this point, and stepped out the front door of her tiny treehouse home. There wasn't a real reason why she still bothered wearing clothes, just a vestige from her time as a noble lady probably. Even if the only thing she ever encountered was the jungle's beasts she felt uncomfortable if she didn't wear enough to cover herself.

Oh, it should be noted that there was nothing outside the door of her home. As soon as she stepped outside her body fell towards the ground far below. Her tail wrapped around a pole stuck into the side of the tree about halfway down and slowed her fall until she gently stepped onto the ground. Her home wasn't even visible from the ground, it was small and well-hidden far up above in the canopy.

The wild woman had soaked her cloak in the blood of her last prey, the jungle ape, so that she could hunt without her prey running from her. All of the creatures in this part of the forest had learned to avoid her by now after she'd killed most of the alpha predators in the region. The only predators left that posed a threat to her were the old monsters that had survived since magic had filled the jungle and altered them into more dangerous creatures. In the northern part of the jungle there were three monsters humans knew to avoid: the Sleeper Slug that had never actually been seen but left a trail of silver sand in its wake and spirited away any person that encountered it, the Shelled Spider that is impossible to run from or defeat and must be repelled until it gives up its chase, and the Silent Serpent that can only be recognized after it's long gone.

Carrion had encountered the Sleeper multiple times in the past year she'd lived in this part of the jungle. Either it called this region its home as well or it was curious about her enough to keep coming around to visit. Oh, and though she knows she's encountered it, Carrion has no idea what the thing looks like. The slug puts everything nearby to sleep, so all she knows is she wakes up on the jungle ground and there's signs of a battle and scattered silvery sand all around her. Even if she's out cold her tail still attacks anything that gets close. Apparently her tail is enough to drive off the slug but not enough to convince it to leave her alone for good. The spider apparently lived further to the East, so she'd never encountered that monster. The slug is a minor annoyance in her mind, but her sole encounter with the snake was enough to leave her terrified. It was the reason she moved her shelter high into the trees where hopefully the snake wouldn't find it.

It was during her hunt today that she would be so unlucky to meet the snake for a second time. She was dragging the body of a large feline beast back to her shelter when it entered her vision. She didn't react to its presence at all as its massive dull grey body glided over the ground without a sound. If she could have reacted she would have screamed and run away, but she couldn't do anything. Even though she could clearly see the massive snake moving towards her, her mind and body refused to acknowledge it at all. All she could do was keep walking even though the snake was right there. Carrion had practically stepped into the monster's waiting mouth before it bothered moving to close its jaws around her helpless body, and that was what caused her tail to react. Most of the time she hated the fact that her tail didn't do what she wanted and always lashed out on its own, but this time like last time she'd met the snake, it was what saved her life. Her tail dropped the dead cat and slashed the snake's face, pushing Carrion back. Even as the snake recoiled, she still couldn't force herself to acknowledge it or react, so just like last time the snake had tried to make her its prey she was stuck in a loop of standing up and walking towards the snake only for her tail to attack it and throw her back. This repeated a dozen times until the snake got tired of the game and gave up trying to eat her. It took the dead cat beast Carrion had dropped for itself and silently slithered away.

Only after she'd gotten up yet again and made her way back to her home did the serpent's mind-numbing power begin to lose its potency. It probably would have taken a few hours longer for her to realize what had happened if she hadn't been so intent on cleaning the animal she'd killed, only for her to be confused as to why she couldn't find the large dead cat she knew she'd brought home. Once she fully realized that she'd met that snake for a second time, Carrion spent the next few days hiding in her shelter and surviving off what she could find without going down to the ground where the snake might still be. She'd fled into the jungle so she wouldn't accidentally kill any more people, but there were terrifying things here. She didn't know whether she should stay or run away again. Go back to where people were? Go even deeper into the forest? She might escape the snake only to encounter even worse monsters. No, deeper was a bad idea. Carrion, ex-princess of the now-gone Kingdom of Arro, despaired under the canopy of the endless Southern Jungle.

Unknown to her, her living in the jungle and her encounter with the Silent Serpent had already disturbed the balance of the jungle's ecosystem, breaking a stalemate that had kept the monsters there from seeking new hunting grounds for hundreds of years.




Variel Drake Arros
Location: New Heronda (previously the Kingdom of Arro)

"Hey Dust!"

A man with a young face and kind brown eyes turned at someone calling out his name. Really Dust was just a nickname, but he rarely ever used the fake name he'd given when signing to become a soldier, and the nickname his fellow soldiers had given him had become the name he used. He'd grown rather fond of hearing it spoken by people he called friends.

"You on duty now?"

"Uh no, I just got off. I'm free until the night. Did you need me for something?" Dust asked his friend, a fellow soldier by the name Ricen, who'd called out to him. There were two other young men standing behind Ricen also wearing soldiers' uniforms, people Dust didn't recognize.

"Well I was bragging and drinking and drinking and bragging, as you know I do, and these guys here didn't believe me when I told them about this super-skilled knight guy I know. You see where this is going right?"

Dust scratched his head. "Uh I can't say I do. I guess you want me to help you track down this knight?"

Ricen laughed a bit too loud at that. Now that he'd said so, Dust could tell he'd been drinking. Well it was his day off, so he wouldn't judge the guy if he chose to spend it drinking. It wasn't like he was drunk during his work or anything. Sephestíel was busy dealing with Biran trying to push through the northern pass again, so the chance of soldiers being suddenly called to fight was low right now. May as well enjoy the peace time when it came.

"No no, I already know where he is," Ricen said as he slapped Dust's back. "I was hoping you'd lead the way to the training field actually."

"Uh okay, I guess." Dust was confused still, but he led his friend and the two others to the training grounds. Once there, Ricen tossed a training sword to one of the two others and then for some reason he tossed one at Dust. He struggled to catch the wooden sword. "Uh what's this for? Weren't you looking for a knight?"

Ricen waved off Dust's confused questions, instead talking to the soldier with the wooden sword in hand. "So one touch, if you win I'll give you five Hera."

The soldier nodded, but looked at Dust a bit confused himself. "Yeah but this guy, really?"

"Yup." Ricen just flashed a smile.

"Ricen..." Dust had finally started to piece together what was going on.

"Yeeeeeeees sir knight?"

Dust just sighed. Ricen did stupid things like this when he drank. It was his own fault for not recognizing what was happening sooner. Well whatever, it was just a little training. If was good to show off to the new recruits every so often. When the other soldier said start, Dust stepped forward. His opponent had enough time to raise his wooden sword in response but that was all. Dust poked the soldier's back with the tip of his sword. His opponent hadn't even processed that Dust had closed the distance between them and gotten behind him with a single step.

Both the soldier holding the wooden sword and his friend that was watching were confused at the sudden end of the match, if it could be called that. Ricen was the only one laughing loud enough to annoy the other soldiers still training. Dust threw his sword at his annoying friend to shut him up. Unfortunately he missed and Ricen only laughed louder until another soldier yelled at him to shut the hell up.




Seraphine Keira Arros
Location: Sighold, capital city of Heronda


Odette Auclair, once a concubine to the man who would be dubbed the Tyrant King, now lived in Sighold as a maid for a noble house that had been connected to one of the king's other servants. She went by Clara now. When Arro had fallen she'd chosen to flee with her youngest child, Seraphine Kiera Arros, who'd been just four years old at the time, still too young for Odette to entrust to some other person to keep her alive and safe. Love had been the emotion behind her decision to stay with her child then, but in the years since, despite the mere thought being a betrayal of her role as a mother, she'd come to regret that decision. Because Seraphine had changed since leaving the castle eight years ago, more than a child could be expected to simply by growing up. The person her daughter had become... Odette would never say it aloud, but she was scared of her daughter.


Fina saw her mother off and waited ten minutes before she got up and removed the dress she'd been wearing. There was a large mirror in her bedroom, just one of many items she'd bought without her mother's knowledge with her own funds. Each time she brought something strange home it would cause an argument, but Fina was too smart to lose a verbal argument, and eventually her mother had given up asking what her daughter did to earn money. It probably wasn't what Clara thought. Fina looked herself over in the mirror and frowned. As if she could earn money that way. Currently she was unhappy with how her body was developing. The body of a young girl was inconvenient. She'd been trying to train her body whenever she had spare time, but she seemed to gain muscle so incredibly slowly, and it honestly seemed like a waste of her time. Even if she did build up muscle it wasn't like she'd be able to overpower any man. But that made her more frustrated. Her advantage as a woman would be her sexuality, but her body seemed even slower developing in that direction as it was developing muscle. Just how long did she have to wait until her body was that of a woman?

She was impatient to begin moving forward with some of her plans, but she wanted more tools at her disposal before setting things in motion, and one of those was the option to seduce new pawns if necessary. Unfortunately, at this rate she'd still have a few more years before that was realistic. Right now the only people she'd be able to manipulate with seduction were the unsavory types that she'd already be able to blackmail through other means. Both in terms of sexuality and physical strength, this body was a failing score across the board. It was depressing.

Giving up her self-inspection, Fina changed into her work clothes. She donned a tight leather chest piece and black pants. One might think she was trying to hide the fact that she was a girl to go out exploring the city, but that wasn't it. Even if her long black hair tied in a ponytail didn't reach down her back, there was no passing her face for a boy. Once she slipped on black gloves and boots she almost looked the part of a mercenary. A bit too young to fully pass as one, but maybe a demon one? Some folks did supposedly pass off their demon slaves as young human servants to get them into places where human bodyguards weren't allowed.

Sighold, the capital city of Herondam was a busy place. Between the chaotic street layout and masses of people flowing this way and that it was easy to get lost in, but Fina walked with certain steps to her destination: a bartering shop.

The owner glanced at the door as she entered before returning to reading something behind the desk. He suddenly jumped up. "Fina! Lady Fina I mean!"

"From that reaction, I take it something's happened? Could it be... my advice proved helpful?" She played coy, but Fina's eyes glinted as her mind raced ahead to what she knew the man would say.

"Helpful? Thanks to your little piece of advice just paid to keep my store running for at least another year!" The man was smiling from ear to ear at her. If it had been directed at any other girl the greedy look in his eyes would have been indecent, but in this case it was the greed of a merchant seeing money.

"I'm glad to have been of use," Fina responded with a thin smile. She'd simply been able to identify a particularly valuable antique among the shop's piles of worthless trash and directed the owner to a noble who was known to collect such pieces. No real work done on her part, but the reward... "That said..."

"Oh. Oho! I see you have a bit of merchant's blood in you Miss Fina. How does 15 percent sound?"

Fina made a show of considering the number while looking around the items in the shop. "25 and I'll tell you how much that ugly armor set is actually worth."

A few minutes and an easy profit of 350 Luca later, Fina left the shop in a wonderful mood. She'd had quite a few operations running in the background to generate funds for her slowly growing war chest, and with this windfall she probably had enough saved up to finally start setting in motion her real plans.

Her first stop: the city's slave market. It was unusual for a child to enter the market alone, let alone a girl, but confidence and money were enough to get Fina to her destination.

"Excuse me," Fina walked up to one of the sellers, "do you know if there are any here sold as a set?"

The slave merchant frowned. He wasn't exactly used to dealing with kids, and the question she'd asked was a bit strange too. "You mean like... a demon family?"

"Family would do. I suppose lovers or close friends as well." She smiled up at the man.

The girl made the man uncomfortable. Asking about slaves that had those kinds of connections... the kinds of people that bought slaves that way were usually sadists that intended to enforce loyalty by punishing the slave that didn't disobey rather than the one that did. Even for a person that considered demons as items to be traded like livestock, the implications made him uneasy. It was just one small reason he split up any slaves that got too close to each other. The man told the unsettling girl he didn't have any 'sets' of demons for sale, but he did point her to sellers that might. As he watched the girl merrily walk in the direction he'd indicated, humming an unfamiliar tune despite her surroundings, the man regretted helping the girl at all.

 

[OverconfidentMagi]

Spoiler: World

Present
⸸​

World Events

In the immediate aftermath of the fall of the Kingdom of Arro, Heronda and Sephestíel had been the main parties fighting for control of Arro's lands. El'Mithe quietly went about claiming the plains to the south of Arro, but Heronda wasn't in a position to do anything about that, and since the main value of the southern territory was trade through the southern pass with El'Mithe and access to lumber from the jungle, they saw little value in pushing back strongly against El'Mithe. Sephestíel and Heronda warred for three years, until Biran attacked Sephestíel from behind trying to take over territory through the northern pass to gain easier access into the inner nations. Sephestíel was forced to split their forces between trying to claim Arro and push back Biran's advance, and after a short time of this they withdrew completely from attacking Arro and Heronda to focus on repelling Biran, which was eventually successful. The Kingdom of Arro was taken over by Heronda and the lands dubbed New Heronda. The last three years have once again returned to relative peacetime.

Due to the chaos following the fall of Arro, hunting down the Tyrant King's progeny was secondary to the active conflict to seize the region itself. Even accurate tips to the royals' whereabouts were rarely followed-up on, and the children were able to avoid being found out for the most part. By the time things had calmed down and a search could actually be done, there was very little incentive to do so. No one claiming to be a prince of the Kingdom of Arro had appeared with any legitimacy, so it seemed likely the children had either died or abandoned their claim to the throne with the fall of said throne. The search of the orphans of Arros was for all intents and purposes dead.

That changed today with fresh wanted posters being published. They featured incredibly life-like drawings of each of the Arros children, aged eight years with varying degrees of accuracy. The older children were reasonably close given how many years the artist had had to infer, but the younger children were comparatively laughable. But the drawings were merely to catch the eye and draw it to what was written below:

The reward for the current location of any member of the Arros bloodline is set at 50 Luca.
The reward for definitive proof of death of any member of the Arros bloodline is set at 100 Luca.
The reward for the live capture of any member of the Arros bloodline is set at 500 Luca.
Contact the Mercenary Guild for more information or reporting. The reward will be paid after confirming validity.

A person could live off a hundred Luca (1 Luca is 100 Hera, both denominations of Heronda currency) for a year without paying attention to their spending. That was serious pocket change. It seemed likely that Heronda was behind this new push to locate the Tyrant's kids.

The posters appeared first in Heronda and the lands of old Arro, but soon made their way north into Sephestíel and south into El'Mithe. It's unlikely that the search would gain strong traction in Sephestíel where the people tended to mind themselves and their own, but once the posters reached El'Mithe they would inevitably reach the southern guilds and the shadier groups that inhabited the southern wilds. The criminals and killers down there weren't trustworthy in the least, but they worked harder than anyone when a reward was dangled in front of them.

And so the whole world once again resumed its hunt for the orphans:

Jahir Solus Arros​

Desera Llowen Arros​

Delmar Bartleby Arros​

Malorious Arros​

Adriel Goliath Arros​

Ijekiel Arros​

Variel Drake Arros​

Arias Arros​

Seraphine Keira Arros​

EldridSmith Caffeine_Obsessed Huntertabbysandshark3 Peckinou sheesh ScatheAriiasqDrayceon

...


But the flow of wanted posters and a sizeable reward wasn't the only thing moving in the world at this time.

As the posters entered the lands of Sephestíel from the south, a person was forced back into the lands of Sephestíel from the north. A demon stumbled out of the Great Forest, clearly in despair after being forced to return to the place she'd fled away from. The forest had been her last hope to find sanctuary, but the elves had forced her out.

Sephestíel didn't care much for hunting down humans, but demons were a different story. The nation received payment from their neighbors for returning escaped demons, so capturing those was seen as a high priority. It certainly helped that the elves chased any demons that reached the forest right back out for easy pick-up.

The demon had already screamed and cried for the elves, but they hadn't cared at all, and now she was stumbling onward already lost in despair. Her voice was gone, her body cold and numb besides the searing pain from her bloodied feet with each step she took. After walking for at least a mile like this, her legs suddenly gave out and she collapsed in the middle of a field. One of the elf's arrows hadn't missed and was sticking out of her lower back, the head actually poking through her front side.


As the demon woman lay bleeding in the dirt of some farmer's crops, a pair of soldiers was making its way through the nearby towns and homesteads in search of a demon that had recently been seen fleeing north towards the Great Forest.

sheesh

...


Meanwhile, to the South: As a result of its encounter with a certain individual that seemed to be for some reason immune to its curse, the Silent Serpent had been hurt for the first time in centuries. There existed very few things capable of reacting to the snake and thus being able to even attempt to attack it, so the majority of the injuries the snake had ever known were from trying to eat something too large or hard to swallow. Pain like the kind coming from the cuts inflicted on its face and mouth was something new and unpleasant.

Fleeing the source of its pain, the Silent Serpent moved westward and crossed a river. This would be the second novel thing that had happened to the cursed monster on this day. First it had been hurt, and second it had left its territory of the Southern Jungle. By crossing the river to get away from where that individual was, the snake had moved into the swamplands. The existence of the cursed monsters were the main reason why humans had never ventured far into the Southern Jungles, and if one of those creatures did leave the jungle and happened upon humans, it could only result in a catastrophe.

Peckinou