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Fantasy TOTTDLMTH Episode 3 (Completed)
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Pilgrim59
👑 Exalted Monarch 👑
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| EPISODE III | COMPANIONS | SOCIAL | WIKI |
| Continue the story of TOTTDLMTH | Create & customize your character | Engage with our online community | Catch up on the lore of Grozny |
GUIDELINES
+ Basic grammar and spelling, comprehensible level.
+ No god-modding - if unsure, run your ideas by me.
+ At least one paragraph per reply - no one-liners!
+ At the top of your replies, please include character name, location, and player tags.
Episode III Opening
+ Basic grammar and spelling, comprehensible level.
+ No god-modding - if unsure, run your ideas by me.
+ At least one paragraph per reply - no one-liners!
+ At the top of your replies, please include character name, location, and player tags.
Episode III Opening
Previously on TOTTDLMTH...
Following up on the investigation at Nova Heights Prison, the Hero Sylvia took matters into her own hands to look into the incident - against the advisement of the Black Watch's Grandmaster, Friedhelm of Brecourt. Framed for a crime they did not commit, the Iris Company consequentially resisted arrest and was forced to leave the city. The Companions took to the sewers, in order to avoid Friedhelm's might and the elite wyvern sky patrols. There, they stumbled upon an ancient evil, designate Vulture, that confirmed the continued existence of the Harbingers. Under the combined might of Sylvia's leadership and their sturdy bond, the Company was able to defeat the Vulture, albeit at the cost of their Vice Commander's life.
On the ground, the Companion Irelia stood her ground alone against Friedhelm's forces, but not before being aided by a Black Watch member, Sigismund of the Fifth Breaching Troops. In the subsequent development of the ordeal, Sigismund was slain by Friedhelm. In his dying breath, Sigismund made an enemy of the Iris by mentioning their involvements with the Harbingers. The explosive demise of the Vulture beneath the scene caused a collapse, giving Irelia a chance to escape and regroup with the Companions below.
Meanwhile, the Harbingers rallied under Sylvia's husband - Rael, at the behest of Hershey, his trusted confidant. In a turn of event, the Harbingers were able to retrieve a piece of Rael's old armor from the Starline Magecraft Institutions. Despite this, Rael deemed himself incapable of achieving what is expected of him, ultimately passing his leadership to the Thousand Swordsman Harbinger Hassan, his now-estranged friend and right-hand during the war. During the ensuing skirmish with the mages and their formidable autonomous Star Sentinels, Hershey vanished from the scene without a trace. The Harbingers, under the leadership of Hassan, entrusted by the amnesiac Daemon Lord himself, took to the sewers in hopes of finding Hershey and escape Dragonsreach together.
As the Harbingers and the Companions stumbled upon one another in the underground waterways of Dragonsreach, they managed to corner a mysterious trenchcoated figure with Hershey in his custody. With Sylvia and Rael reunited, the couple and their associates were poised on another battle to retrieve Hershey from the grasps of the trenchcoated man. Before a fight could break out between the Iris-Harbinger coalition and that of their mysterious assailant, another figure appeared on scene. It is revealed that their identities were Five and Eleven. Their purpose and actions were authorized by their presumed master - the Director, whose real identity is not known.
Plagued with questions, the Iris Company and their Harbingers counterpart are forced to leave Dragonsreach. Tensions arise between the disavowed heroes of Grozny and that of their archnemesis during the Fourth Daemonic War. With the recent delegation of duties to apprehend the Iris fugitives and their Harbinger associates, the Grandmaster of the Black Watch is poised on bringing them to justice and unravel the mystery of Sigismund's cryptic last words. Given a limited window to redeem themselves in different light, the Companions and Harbingers are now forced to take the high road together - in hopes of pursuing Five and Eleven. For better or for worse, the two must make amend with one another in order to rid Grozny of its new evils.
Episode III
Fort Vesta Engagement Transcript #65Nryx International Airport, Sector Gretel
Forces Involved: Prowler 2-2, Aurora 4-2 / Iris Companions & Suspected Harbingers
Aurora 4-2: Aurora 4 and Aurora 5 circling back to Nryx and going into holding pattern.
Vesta AFB: Vesta copies. Prowler 2-2 do you read?
Prowler 2-2: Prowler 2-2 reads you loud and clear Vesta. Send, conclude.
Vesta AFB: Be advised, Aesir Relay is picking up some heat signatures about two hundred meters south of your location. Recommend you investigate over.
Prowler 2-2: Acknowledged. We are inbound. Conclude.
Vesta AFB: Prowler 2-2, your rear units just flat-lined. Requesting situation check, conclude.
Prowler 2-2: They're here! Positive identification on the Angel of Verdan! Check that corner! They're everywhere! Vesta, we need backup, now!
Prowler 2-2: Unidentified Sentinel closing in fast! Swordsman on your left!
Vesta AFB: Aurora 4-2, patching you through to Prowler 2-2. Break. Prowler 2-2 is under heavy contact with Iris Company in sector Gretel. Commence close-air-support at will.
Aurora 4-2: Confirmed. Rerouting to the AO.
Vesta AFB: Prowler 2-2, do you read? Prowler 2-2?
Aurora 4-2: Aurora 4-2 to Vesta. Multiple friendlies are wounded. No visuals on hostiles. Going into holding pattern. Requesting medical extraction for Prowler 2-2, conclude.
Vesta AFB: Copy your last, Aurora. Hold that vector until reinforcements arrive. Conclude.
LOCATION: Anthem County, Dominion of Venelia
IRC & HAR PRIMARY OBJECTIVE: Find clues on the mysterious Five & Eleven. Evade Imperial pursuit.
EPISODE SPECIAL CONDITIONS:
- All Imperial forces are now hostile and on high alert.
- Iris Company is disavowed. Iris Badges are obsolete and will alert authorities.
- Mercenaries and Bounty Hunters have been augmented to the Imperial manhunt.
- Degrakes may be persuaded to leak intelligence - for a price.
“In order to alleviate the circumstances of overcrowded prisons and other detention centers, as well as augmenting a sufficient number of troops in preparations for Operation Aquila, the Imperial Council of Haven has decided to establish a new branch under the directives of the designated commander in the field. The Disgraced Alternative Article Number Two, as proposed by Field Commander Sylvia, is noted and agreed upon by the Council’s unanimous meets. The Degrake (Disgraced) Corps will serve as a supplementary reserve pool and auxiliary fighting force that will facilitate the operational integrity of the standing field army. Degrakes' rights as a citizen of Grozny, as well as their reprieve assessment will be redacted until their appropriate sentences are carried out.”
-
The Disgraced Alternative Article II (1208 AC)
Malphaestus
Celestial Speck
Soviet Panda
Huntertabbysandshark3
ElenaIsCool
Worthlessplebian
Doctor Nope
Nessi
Midrick
Zariel
Remembrance
Larry
xAlter
IRC & HAR PRIMARY OBJECTIVE: Find clues on the mysterious Five & Eleven. Evade Imperial pursuit.
EPISODE SPECIAL CONDITIONS:
- All Imperial forces are now hostile and on high alert.
- Iris Company is disavowed. Iris Badges are obsolete and will alert authorities.
- Mercenaries and Bounty Hunters have been augmented to the Imperial manhunt.
- Degrakes may be persuaded to leak intelligence - for a price.
“In order to alleviate the circumstances of overcrowded prisons and other detention centers, as well as augmenting a sufficient number of troops in preparations for Operation Aquila, the Imperial Council of Haven has decided to establish a new branch under the directives of the designated commander in the field. The Disgraced Alternative Article Number Two, as proposed by Field Commander Sylvia, is noted and agreed upon by the Council’s unanimous meets. The Degrake (Disgraced) Corps will serve as a supplementary reserve pool and auxiliary fighting force that will facilitate the operational integrity of the standing field army. Degrakes' rights as a citizen of Grozny, as well as their reprieve assessment will be redacted until their appropriate sentences are carried out.”
-
The Disgraced Alternative Article II (1208 AC)
Malphaestus
Celestial Speck
Soviet Panda
Huntertabbysandshark3
ElenaIsCool
Worthlessplebian
Doctor Nope
Nessi
Midrick
Zariel
Remembrance
Larry
xAlterWinslow Meadow, Scene 1
Friedhelm
Winslow Meadows
Cpt. Hellriegel
Winslow Meadows
Neither shedded tears nor choirs upon the passing of the siegebreaker. Her friends and allies absent, chased away by the malicious phantoms that tainted their name, as well as the black-cloaked guardians of the law. There were many things he had said, as well as the unspoken words that he wished he had said. Yet here he stood, upon a nameless vacant hill. Twenty-one rifles forlorn, a lone olive tree as their company, while the Dovean rested beneath its shades. Upon the Grandmaster's hand was a small bouquet. Where his subordinates scurried off to enact his orders, Friedhelm grieved in their stead. First Sigismund among the others, now in solitude upon the frozen meadows. The cheerful vice-commander of the Company deserved a better ending than to be buried beneath the sewers. As he honored her passing in silence, Friedhelm's resolve strengthened. He knew what had to be done.
"Upon your frozen tomb, I solemnly declare that I will bring to light the cause of your death. Consider it a professional courtesy from one warrior to another. However, I will not show mercy to the Angel of Verdan and her ilks. Justice will be done, no matter if they are a silver-spooned Junker or a heralded hero of the world. Rest easy, Yrix. I shall visit you again soon enough." Friedhelm spoke to himself, expecting the dead to remain silent as many have passed before him during the war.
Friedhelm's eyes veered to his right, surprised by the unexpected presence of another.
"I knew you would be here." the woman in black announced her arrival.
"And your details?" Friedhelm inquired, turning back to meet her. The latter bore the insignia of a captain with the same set of attire that matched her superior's.
"We concluded our canvas from Nryx International towards DiContis, as you ordered. Underground tunnels, public transports, local eyes. We cleared the place three times over and nothing, Grandmaster." the captain elaborated, taking off her czapka cover, as she set her offering of daffodils beside Friedhelm's tribute.
"That's the Iris Company for you. Our suspects are highly elusive as they are mobile during the war. Take a breather and get yourself the day off, Hellriegel. We'll expand our perimeter soon enough." he passed Hellriegel's shoulder.
"Miss Yrix was my idol, Grandmaster. I will give it my all to find the person responsible. Anyways. Our brethren on Fifty-Ninth are hauling back most of the marked evidences on scene. Mostly personal effects of non-military nature. What exactly are we looking for, Grandmaster?"
"We will know it when we find it. First things first. I need answers regarding the sudden disappearance of our internal affairs' associate. Tag along if you wish, Captain." Friedhelm motioned Hellriegel to follow.
Hellriegel leaned in, before she jerked back by impulse.
"You stink, Grandmaster! Go home and take a shower, please! For the sake of those poor desk-jockeys, I beg you."
"Says the one who has been slogging through the wastes from Nryx International and back." Friedhelm retorted, prompting Hellriegel to spring her arms in an effort to halt his steps.
"We're getting nowhere at this rate. Please, Grandmaster, at least go home and see your wife! I'll send a firefly should something arises. Please!" she whined with a dramatic expression.
Friedhelm eyed Hellriegel briefly, then continued to pace himself towards the city.
"I'll take that as a yes? I'll pick you up in two hours!" Hellriegel waved her superior off with a huge smile.
"Upon your frozen tomb, I solemnly declare that I will bring to light the cause of your death. Consider it a professional courtesy from one warrior to another. However, I will not show mercy to the Angel of Verdan and her ilks. Justice will be done, no matter if they are a silver-spooned Junker or a heralded hero of the world. Rest easy, Yrix. I shall visit you again soon enough." Friedhelm spoke to himself, expecting the dead to remain silent as many have passed before him during the war.
Friedhelm's eyes veered to his right, surprised by the unexpected presence of another.
"I knew you would be here." the woman in black announced her arrival.
"And your details?" Friedhelm inquired, turning back to meet her. The latter bore the insignia of a captain with the same set of attire that matched her superior's.
"We concluded our canvas from Nryx International towards DiContis, as you ordered. Underground tunnels, public transports, local eyes. We cleared the place three times over and nothing, Grandmaster." the captain elaborated, taking off her czapka cover, as she set her offering of daffodils beside Friedhelm's tribute.
"That's the Iris Company for you. Our suspects are highly elusive as they are mobile during the war. Take a breather and get yourself the day off, Hellriegel. We'll expand our perimeter soon enough." he passed Hellriegel's shoulder.
"Miss Yrix was my idol, Grandmaster. I will give it my all to find the person responsible. Anyways. Our brethren on Fifty-Ninth are hauling back most of the marked evidences on scene. Mostly personal effects of non-military nature. What exactly are we looking for, Grandmaster?"
"We will know it when we find it. First things first. I need answers regarding the sudden disappearance of our internal affairs' associate. Tag along if you wish, Captain." Friedhelm motioned Hellriegel to follow.
Hellriegel leaned in, before she jerked back by impulse.
"You stink, Grandmaster! Go home and take a shower, please! For the sake of those poor desk-jockeys, I beg you."
"Says the one who has been slogging through the wastes from Nryx International and back." Friedhelm retorted, prompting Hellriegel to spring her arms in an effort to halt his steps.
"We're getting nowhere at this rate. Please, Grandmaster, at least go home and see your wife! I'll send a firefly should something arises. Please!" she whined with a dramatic expression.
Friedhelm eyed Hellriegel briefly, then continued to pace himself towards the city.
"I'll take that as a yes? I'll pick you up in two hours!" Hellriegel waved her superior off with a huge smile.
Lawbie Manor, Scene 2
Friedhelm
Lawbie Manor
Cpt. Hellriegel
Lawbie Manor
Lady Bella
Lawbie Manor
Friedhelm heeded Hellriegel's words, much to his dismay. He found himself brushing the grimy dirt and residue off his shoulder, while the faucet continued to rain on his soaped-up hair. The once oily sensation was replaced with a sturdy and silky texture upon his strands of seeping hair. Yet, the running water was unable to wash away the oozing texture of crimson clots that once painted his hands. His back was so deformed by the numerous scars that he had endured in his childhood, that the man no longer feel any sort of blemish even if he tried to. The wounds that he bore made up his pragmatic and cold demeanors. Everything else in between was simply a piece of history to be carved upon his flesh. The heavy shower ended with Friedhelm donning a new set of clothes that he had conjured up for himself prior. While the thoughts of recent events plagued his mind, there was something else that kept him on his toes. Before long, a voice called out to him, as he descended the stairs. A familiar figure eyed him with a stern look, as their hands folded with purpose. Friedhelm was in for a reckoning borne of his recent absence.
"Look who's finally home."
"I will not make any excuse. I apologize." he replied softly, standing tall as he expected a storm of words from his counterpart to follow.
"That attitude! The audacity! Do you know how long I waited?! Five different fireflies! Those things don't grow on trees, you hear?! You think this is a lodging inn?! That you could just come and go as you wish? Don't even answer that. A runner would have been nice. Twenty eight hours! How negligent can you be?! Meals! Two cold sets of smoked salmon. Who conjured them, you ask? That's right, me! Guess what? I consumed them all because food expires! You absolute boob!"
"We had a small window to do our job. I'm sure you understand-..." Friedhelm replied, but not before being halted in his words by a sharp pain in his abdomen.
"Small windows!! I have a small window of patience too, ya know? By Aerilia's grace! I don't care if you have a sucking chest-wound, at least let me know! I... can't bear the thought of silence, you ken?! I was worried sick!" the woman began to sob, slamming her hands repeatedly against Friedhelm's chest. The man took a deep breath and pulled her closer.
"I was in the wrong. Forgive me, my dear Bell. It has been... a difficult weekend." Friedhelm's voice grew soft and gloomy.
"I heard about the Companion and Sigismund. I'm sorry." Bella brushed Friedhelm's wet bangs aside.
"The world is turning upside down. But it matters not, I am home now." Friedhelm embraced Bella. Their compromises were fruitful, albeit short. The couple could not help but feel a disturbance in the air. They broke their prolonged gaze, veering slowly to their sides towards the hideous sight of their assailant.
A face embedded upon the kitchen window, with their cheeks pressed against the glass panel. Their excited visage was filled with rude intentions. When their peeping endeavor was blatantly exposed, they made no effort of exiting the scene. Instead, they gave a thumbs up gesture at the creeped-out Bella and her blank-expressioned husband.
"Who's the window licker? Should I call the vigiles urbani?" Bella put up a false smile at the individual outside their window, while muttering her true thoughts to Friedhelm.
"I am inclined to say yes. But alas, that odd personnel is my subordinate - Hellriegel." Friedhelm sighed.
The main door to the Lawbie Manor opened, as the captain eagerly awaited their superior's answer. Friedhelm emerged from behind the red door, he eyed Hellriegel with a raised brow. A few things surprised him, but her ability to track his residency was quite a feat.
"I should consider setting up a perimeter fence in the future. How did you acquire my address?"
"I followed you." she said with a straight face.
"Restraining order would be a walk in the park for someone of your skill. If I could comprehend what's running in that head of yours, I might just be in the mind of a genius." Friedhelm shook his head, while pinching his temple slightly.
"Really?!" Hellriegel raised her voice in excitement.
"That was sarcasm, Captain. My wife and I are having dinner. Come back later."
"Aww! Hmm. Two days at work can be super stressful without affectionate relief. Didn't take ya for an impoverished tile-laying artisan, Grandmaster. Very well, I'll come back later then."
"Nothing of the sort, you degenerate. Go on. Git." Friedhelm said, brushing Hellriegel away but only to be halted by Bella's voice.
"Captain Hellriegel was it? Dinner's about ready. Would you like to join us?" Bella proposed.
"The captain is just dropping by. She'll be leaving now." he chimed in.
"Of course, missus Friedhelm. If you'll have me! Haha!" Hellriegel replied decisively, bringing out Friedhelm's annoyed eyes and a looming aura of dread. Hellriegel hurried herself along and attached herself to Bella, in hopes of getting shielded from the Grandmaster.
Hellriegel promptly washed her hands and aided Bella in preparing the dishes. Friedhelm studied the two's interaction from afar, surprised at how well the two clicked. A recurring image flashed before his eyes, bringing about a certain gloom that he had chosen not to share, but knew all too well. He excused himself from the room, catching up with his breath. Once within the solitary confinement of his study, Friedhelm finally broke, clenching his teeth and sobbing as he did in anguish. Upon his desk, was a picture of a familiar visage that plagued his mind as he saw Hellriegel conversing with Bella. Upon his reentry of the kitchen, the man held his mundane nonchalant visage, as he sat down with the two and partook in their evening meal.
"You didn't tell me Captain Hellriegel here is such a darling!" Bella said to Friedhelm, as the latter veered their killer gaze towards Hellriegel. The captain nonchalantly chuckled it off. Friedhelm did not voice his opposition to it, however, for he was glad to see Bella entertained by Hellriegel's presence.
"Look who's finally home."
"I will not make any excuse. I apologize." he replied softly, standing tall as he expected a storm of words from his counterpart to follow.
"That attitude! The audacity! Do you know how long I waited?! Five different fireflies! Those things don't grow on trees, you hear?! You think this is a lodging inn?! That you could just come and go as you wish? Don't even answer that. A runner would have been nice. Twenty eight hours! How negligent can you be?! Meals! Two cold sets of smoked salmon. Who conjured them, you ask? That's right, me! Guess what? I consumed them all because food expires! You absolute boob!"
"We had a small window to do our job. I'm sure you understand-..." Friedhelm replied, but not before being halted in his words by a sharp pain in his abdomen.
"Small windows!! I have a small window of patience too, ya know? By Aerilia's grace! I don't care if you have a sucking chest-wound, at least let me know! I... can't bear the thought of silence, you ken?! I was worried sick!" the woman began to sob, slamming her hands repeatedly against Friedhelm's chest. The man took a deep breath and pulled her closer.
"I was in the wrong. Forgive me, my dear Bell. It has been... a difficult weekend." Friedhelm's voice grew soft and gloomy.
"I heard about the Companion and Sigismund. I'm sorry." Bella brushed Friedhelm's wet bangs aside.
"The world is turning upside down. But it matters not, I am home now." Friedhelm embraced Bella. Their compromises were fruitful, albeit short. The couple could not help but feel a disturbance in the air. They broke their prolonged gaze, veering slowly to their sides towards the hideous sight of their assailant.
A face embedded upon the kitchen window, with their cheeks pressed against the glass panel. Their excited visage was filled with rude intentions. When their peeping endeavor was blatantly exposed, they made no effort of exiting the scene. Instead, they gave a thumbs up gesture at the creeped-out Bella and her blank-expressioned husband.
"Who's the window licker? Should I call the vigiles urbani?" Bella put up a false smile at the individual outside their window, while muttering her true thoughts to Friedhelm.
"I am inclined to say yes. But alas, that odd personnel is my subordinate - Hellriegel." Friedhelm sighed.
The main door to the Lawbie Manor opened, as the captain eagerly awaited their superior's answer. Friedhelm emerged from behind the red door, he eyed Hellriegel with a raised brow. A few things surprised him, but her ability to track his residency was quite a feat.
"I should consider setting up a perimeter fence in the future. How did you acquire my address?"
"I followed you." she said with a straight face.
"Restraining order would be a walk in the park for someone of your skill. If I could comprehend what's running in that head of yours, I might just be in the mind of a genius." Friedhelm shook his head, while pinching his temple slightly.
"Really?!" Hellriegel raised her voice in excitement.
"That was sarcasm, Captain. My wife and I are having dinner. Come back later."
"Aww! Hmm. Two days at work can be super stressful without affectionate relief. Didn't take ya for an impoverished tile-laying artisan, Grandmaster. Very well, I'll come back later then."
"Nothing of the sort, you degenerate. Go on. Git." Friedhelm said, brushing Hellriegel away but only to be halted by Bella's voice.
"Captain Hellriegel was it? Dinner's about ready. Would you like to join us?" Bella proposed.
"The captain is just dropping by. She'll be leaving now." he chimed in.
"Of course, missus Friedhelm. If you'll have me! Haha!" Hellriegel replied decisively, bringing out Friedhelm's annoyed eyes and a looming aura of dread. Hellriegel hurried herself along and attached herself to Bella, in hopes of getting shielded from the Grandmaster.
Hellriegel promptly washed her hands and aided Bella in preparing the dishes. Friedhelm studied the two's interaction from afar, surprised at how well the two clicked. A recurring image flashed before his eyes, bringing about a certain gloom that he had chosen not to share, but knew all too well. He excused himself from the room, catching up with his breath. Once within the solitary confinement of his study, Friedhelm finally broke, clenching his teeth and sobbing as he did in anguish. Upon his desk, was a picture of a familiar visage that plagued his mind as he saw Hellriegel conversing with Bella. Upon his reentry of the kitchen, the man held his mundane nonchalant visage, as he sat down with the two and partook in their evening meal.
"You didn't tell me Captain Hellriegel here is such a darling!" Bella said to Friedhelm, as the latter veered their killer gaze towards Hellriegel. The captain nonchalantly chuckled it off. Friedhelm did not voice his opposition to it, however, for he was glad to see Bella entertained by Hellriegel's presence.
Last edited:
Pilgrim59
👑 Exalted Monarch 👑
Anthem County, Scene 3
Sertek
Anthem County, Haven
Sylvia
Anthem County, Haven
Worthlessplebian
Doctor Nope
Zariel
Larry
Celestial Speck
ElenaIsCool
Soviet Panda
Huntertabbysandshark3
Anthem County, Haven
Sylvia
Anthem County, Haven
Worthlessplebian
Doctor Nope
Zariel
Larry
Celestial Speck
ElenaIsCool
Soviet Panda
Huntertabbysandshark3
Tranquil moon lit their path, as the Iris Companions and their Harbingers counterpart kept to themselves. Lines were formed, led forward by Hassan, while the two groups eyed one another with distrusts. The Hero kept a distinct space against Sertek - a mutually-assured destructive land should the latter cross it. In the light of their recent encounter with the Vulture and the numerical instruments of their current state, Sylvia was no longer a fool to her husband's unsincere words. She knew what had to be done. Even now, her blood boils with hatred and anguish when the truth had been unveiled. She felt her Solomon Edge's coursing through her veins, ready to make up for what she failed to accomplish on Mount Hornet. Yet, the aetherial surge of energy tugged back and forth, failing to materialize as she still clung onto her already-broken heart. She was bitter, at her failure to slay Sertek and inability to save Laure. She could still feel the burgundy sludge that tainted her hands upon the fractured flesh of her Dovean mentor. Those greyish pair of green eyes would haunt her for the rest of her remaining days on thisworld. What horrified her the most was her inability to shed any tears more than she should. Sylvia felt as if she was simply a vessel for another being that vicariously share but never experienced the full weight of her emotions. A surrogate orphan within the shell of a cold warrior. She often wondered if she had fulfilled her role or was she simply playing hero for the sake of justifying her gifts? She needed those comforting and reassuring words from Rael, but was not willing to accept his true name as Sertek. She needed time to process, as any sane person would do. After all, the Angel of Verdan was simply a Solarian.
Sertek's heart throbbed with anticipation and guilt. He had chosen to slowly broker his recently acquired memories and the revelation of his purpose to his wife. Yet here he was, defeated by the schemes of the Harbinger Hunters that called themselves Eleven. Eleven's blatant words rang truer than what Sertek could have gone about it. Words were dangerous weapons, far more sharper than the most sacred artifacts. It only took Eleven a few sentences to cause a division between him and Sylvia. With the lost of Laure, Sertek had little-to-no opportunities to shoulder Sylvia's woes. Distrust among friends and loved ones, as he finally realized it, was the very reason he had distanced himself from the inhabitants of Grozny. Yet, the Daemon Lord refused to give in to the notion of relinquishing his strength just yet. Perhaps in these turbulent and trying times, their bond would be strengthened with efforts, he concluded.
As the night lulled the coalition of Companions and Harbingers to their reprieve, Sertek gathered his strength and finally sought out his wife, of whom had stationed herself upon the lonely hill as their voluntary firewatch. Sertek, despite the knowledge of letting Sylvia reeling in her thoughts by in solitude, has decided to involved himself. He approached her nonchalantly, before a glimmer of dark blue energy knocked him off his feet. Before him, an obsidian tip, laden with golden embellishment began to stretch out towards his assailant's arm. The lance blemished his cheek with a stinging sensation, but the man refused to give in.
"Any closer, and I'll truly fulfill the prophecy with your blood." Sylvia remarked, with a fiery pair of crimson eyes.
"Why haven't you?" Sertek inquired, brokering a brief truce of silence between them. He knew that she could have struck him down at any given time, but had chosen to stay her hands.
"Once you have gathered your old strength, I promise that it'll be a swift one." Solomon Edge withdrew, as the lancer turned away.
"Sylvia, wai-" Sertek reached out, grabbing her hand.
"Don't touch me." she retorted, flashing her Solomon as Sertek blocked it with his steeled arm. Their eyes interlocked, with Sylvia's wrath no longer withheld.
"My dear, please. Let us talk this through. Like a sane couple."
"Sane?! I am insane to fall in love with the very being I swore to destroy!" Sylvia retracted her lance, and landed another strike to bear on Sertek. The latter continued to use his hardened arm as a shield.
"Talk did not save Friedhelm's sister at Onyx!" Sylvia pommeled, landing another strike that sparked a burst of aetherial energy.
"Talk did not vanquish your deeds for the last two thousand years!" another strike followed, painting the unlit forest blue and amber. This time, it de-coupled Sertek's dark scaled gauntlet.
"And talk did not keep Laure from death!" the final strike shattered the Daemon Lord's armored limb, throwing him onto the ground.
"Here I am before you, Sylvia. Take my life if it pleases you. But know that my heart will always be yours. My affections unwaned, and I will take it to my grave knowing that you have taught me the fundamentals of the soul. There is nothing more precious than our sacred matrimonial bond. I am willing to give away from existence for it." he said softly, catching up with his breath as he did not attempt to stir - exposing himself fully for Sylvia to deliver her killing blow.
"Don't. Cease your honeyed words, Sertek. I will not be tempted and fooled as I did for a year. This has to end now. It has to." Sylvia raised her Solomon, and bore down upon the smiling Daemon Lord.
A reticent, but audible echo of her lance against a soggy entity. Sertek's eyes widened, as Sylvia held tightly onto her lance, and on her knees. The Solomon Edge stemmed itself against the cold soil and grass, merely grazing Sertek's cheek with a straight but lenient cut. Sylvia finally got up, with her face blemished by incessant tears.
"Return to your underlings, for my Solomon Edge will not miss your black heart next time. Begone from my sights." Sylvia concluded, venturing further from her previous post.
Sertek eyed her off, with a certain gloom about him. He made his way past the clearing, and into the hedgerows. Before he could conjure up a plan to bridge their fractured paths, a shuffling noise caught his attention. Sertek reinforced his arm, as he studied the bush before him. A lone figure stepped forth. From the looks of their attire under the moonlight, they were not a part of the Imperial armed forces. Instead, their visage was as clear as day.
"You must be Rael. The Angel of Verdan's betrothed."
"You certainly know me. But I'm afraid we have yet to be properly introduced, even though I recognize your visage." Sertek responded with an inquiring tone.
"I am Sofia IV Nowak. I'm sure you've seen my face all over the Grozettes. I can't help but overheard your arguments. Perhaps I could be of help. After all, Mr. Vik, the Company's Dragon Slayer is currently a guest of mine in Shirley's Forest. Alas, I must be brief to detract any Imperial attentions. I come bearing gift. A Conestoga Wagon for your travels, just hidden out of sight behind that hedgerow." she replied with a delicate smile.
"May I ask why you are helping us, Lady Nowak?" Sertek asked.
"A friend of Mr. Vik is a friend of mine. Call it a favor. Your merry band of Companions and Harbingers may prove yourself most useful to my cause."
"Wait. How did you chance upon the disposition of the Harbingers?"
"Eyes and ears, Mr. Rael. Eyes and ears. For the time being, our interest aligns. A good partnership is a good business, wouldn't you say? Besides, this could be a good opportunity to win Mrs. Sylvia's heart back. Anyways, ta-ta, Mr. Rael." Sofia finally left alongside her attendant, leaving Sertek dumbfounded. Thoughts ran him by, but his instincts gave into the notion of a positive outcome.
The man peeled off towards the tree line before him, matching his steps with the shadows before he back-traced his steps. When Sertek returned to the small camp that was shared by the Companions and the Harbingers, he eyed those around him, studying their intentions as he walked. The Daemon Lord made sense of the unspoken hostilities among them, while some received each other's presence to be a comforting factor compared to the unpleasant encounters with the Imperial forces. Despite having only been acquainted with Markas once during the dinner party from two nights ago, Sertek reminisced how Sylvia addressed him. If he understood what Sofia meant correctly, Markas must have gotten out of the city with her help. Thoughts ran him by as to what Markas has involved himself with to have the backing of a billionaire. It matters not, for as long as he was alive, it was a fruitful news to bear for the taut ensemble of Companions and Harbingers. The Daemon Lord held in his words, still wary of how the Companions perceived him at this point. Mustering up his strength, the man finally brokered the news to the Companions and the Harbingers that Markas was alive and resided in Lady Nowak's custody. Unsure of how this could be taken, Sertek relinquished his half-hearted and uncertain attempt of compromising with his wife's associates.
"I understand if you are wary of my personal revelations. However, in light of recent events, it is imperative that we stick together. Companions or Harbingers, it matters not. So long as we survive another day to tear down the wicked puppeteer behind the shrouded curtains. Perhaps this is also our hour of truth, to redeem ourselves alongside one another. What say you, Harbingers and Companions?"
"As much as it pains me to say this, but Sertek's right. We have little choice. But mark my words, as soon as our joint-endeavors are concluded, your time on Grozny will also expires." Sylvia chimed in, before taking point to secure the Conestoga Wagon.
Sertek brushed his hair back slightly, and eyed his wife off, as he turned towards his right-hand man.
"What is Hershey's condition?" he asked Hassan, hopeful that the Aries will turn out fine following her recent predicament.
Sertek's heart throbbed with anticipation and guilt. He had chosen to slowly broker his recently acquired memories and the revelation of his purpose to his wife. Yet here he was, defeated by the schemes of the Harbinger Hunters that called themselves Eleven. Eleven's blatant words rang truer than what Sertek could have gone about it. Words were dangerous weapons, far more sharper than the most sacred artifacts. It only took Eleven a few sentences to cause a division between him and Sylvia. With the lost of Laure, Sertek had little-to-no opportunities to shoulder Sylvia's woes. Distrust among friends and loved ones, as he finally realized it, was the very reason he had distanced himself from the inhabitants of Grozny. Yet, the Daemon Lord refused to give in to the notion of relinquishing his strength just yet. Perhaps in these turbulent and trying times, their bond would be strengthened with efforts, he concluded.
As the night lulled the coalition of Companions and Harbingers to their reprieve, Sertek gathered his strength and finally sought out his wife, of whom had stationed herself upon the lonely hill as their voluntary firewatch. Sertek, despite the knowledge of letting Sylvia reeling in her thoughts by in solitude, has decided to involved himself. He approached her nonchalantly, before a glimmer of dark blue energy knocked him off his feet. Before him, an obsidian tip, laden with golden embellishment began to stretch out towards his assailant's arm. The lance blemished his cheek with a stinging sensation, but the man refused to give in.
"Any closer, and I'll truly fulfill the prophecy with your blood." Sylvia remarked, with a fiery pair of crimson eyes.
"Why haven't you?" Sertek inquired, brokering a brief truce of silence between them. He knew that she could have struck him down at any given time, but had chosen to stay her hands.
"Once you have gathered your old strength, I promise that it'll be a swift one." Solomon Edge withdrew, as the lancer turned away.
"Sylvia, wai-" Sertek reached out, grabbing her hand.
"Don't touch me." she retorted, flashing her Solomon as Sertek blocked it with his steeled arm. Their eyes interlocked, with Sylvia's wrath no longer withheld.
"My dear, please. Let us talk this through. Like a sane couple."
"Sane?! I am insane to fall in love with the very being I swore to destroy!" Sylvia retracted her lance, and landed another strike to bear on Sertek. The latter continued to use his hardened arm as a shield.
"Talk did not save Friedhelm's sister at Onyx!" Sylvia pommeled, landing another strike that sparked a burst of aetherial energy.
"Talk did not vanquish your deeds for the last two thousand years!" another strike followed, painting the unlit forest blue and amber. This time, it de-coupled Sertek's dark scaled gauntlet.
"And talk did not keep Laure from death!" the final strike shattered the Daemon Lord's armored limb, throwing him onto the ground.
"Here I am before you, Sylvia. Take my life if it pleases you. But know that my heart will always be yours. My affections unwaned, and I will take it to my grave knowing that you have taught me the fundamentals of the soul. There is nothing more precious than our sacred matrimonial bond. I am willing to give away from existence for it." he said softly, catching up with his breath as he did not attempt to stir - exposing himself fully for Sylvia to deliver her killing blow.
"Don't. Cease your honeyed words, Sertek. I will not be tempted and fooled as I did for a year. This has to end now. It has to." Sylvia raised her Solomon, and bore down upon the smiling Daemon Lord.
A reticent, but audible echo of her lance against a soggy entity. Sertek's eyes widened, as Sylvia held tightly onto her lance, and on her knees. The Solomon Edge stemmed itself against the cold soil and grass, merely grazing Sertek's cheek with a straight but lenient cut. Sylvia finally got up, with her face blemished by incessant tears.
"Return to your underlings, for my Solomon Edge will not miss your black heart next time. Begone from my sights." Sylvia concluded, venturing further from her previous post.
Sertek eyed her off, with a certain gloom about him. He made his way past the clearing, and into the hedgerows. Before he could conjure up a plan to bridge their fractured paths, a shuffling noise caught his attention. Sertek reinforced his arm, as he studied the bush before him. A lone figure stepped forth. From the looks of their attire under the moonlight, they were not a part of the Imperial armed forces. Instead, their visage was as clear as day.
"You must be Rael. The Angel of Verdan's betrothed."
"You certainly know me. But I'm afraid we have yet to be properly introduced, even though I recognize your visage." Sertek responded with an inquiring tone.
"I am Sofia IV Nowak. I'm sure you've seen my face all over the Grozettes. I can't help but overheard your arguments. Perhaps I could be of help. After all, Mr. Vik, the Company's Dragon Slayer is currently a guest of mine in Shirley's Forest. Alas, I must be brief to detract any Imperial attentions. I come bearing gift. A Conestoga Wagon for your travels, just hidden out of sight behind that hedgerow." she replied with a delicate smile.
"May I ask why you are helping us, Lady Nowak?" Sertek asked.
"A friend of Mr. Vik is a friend of mine. Call it a favor. Your merry band of Companions and Harbingers may prove yourself most useful to my cause."
"Wait. How did you chance upon the disposition of the Harbingers?"
"Eyes and ears, Mr. Rael. Eyes and ears. For the time being, our interest aligns. A good partnership is a good business, wouldn't you say? Besides, this could be a good opportunity to win Mrs. Sylvia's heart back. Anyways, ta-ta, Mr. Rael." Sofia finally left alongside her attendant, leaving Sertek dumbfounded. Thoughts ran him by, but his instincts gave into the notion of a positive outcome.
The man peeled off towards the tree line before him, matching his steps with the shadows before he back-traced his steps. When Sertek returned to the small camp that was shared by the Companions and the Harbingers, he eyed those around him, studying their intentions as he walked. The Daemon Lord made sense of the unspoken hostilities among them, while some received each other's presence to be a comforting factor compared to the unpleasant encounters with the Imperial forces. Despite having only been acquainted with Markas once during the dinner party from two nights ago, Sertek reminisced how Sylvia addressed him. If he understood what Sofia meant correctly, Markas must have gotten out of the city with her help. Thoughts ran him by as to what Markas has involved himself with to have the backing of a billionaire. It matters not, for as long as he was alive, it was a fruitful news to bear for the taut ensemble of Companions and Harbingers. The Daemon Lord held in his words, still wary of how the Companions perceived him at this point. Mustering up his strength, the man finally brokered the news to the Companions and the Harbingers that Markas was alive and resided in Lady Nowak's custody. Unsure of how this could be taken, Sertek relinquished his half-hearted and uncertain attempt of compromising with his wife's associates.
"I understand if you are wary of my personal revelations. However, in light of recent events, it is imperative that we stick together. Companions or Harbingers, it matters not. So long as we survive another day to tear down the wicked puppeteer behind the shrouded curtains. Perhaps this is also our hour of truth, to redeem ourselves alongside one another. What say you, Harbingers and Companions?"
"As much as it pains me to say this, but Sertek's right. We have little choice. But mark my words, as soon as our joint-endeavors are concluded, your time on Grozny will also expires." Sylvia chimed in, before taking point to secure the Conestoga Wagon.
Sertek brushed his hair back slightly, and eyed his wife off, as he turned towards his right-hand man.
"What is Hershey's condition?" he asked Hassan, hopeful that the Aries will turn out fine following her recent predicament.
Last edited:
Pilgrim59
👑 Exalted Monarch 👑
Anthem County, Final Scene
Intricate heartache and confusion caught the hero off-guard. With her mentor's demise still fresh upon her mind, the revelation of her husband's true past made her wary of all the things that she have accomplished thus far. She was a fool to think that by doing what her preceding Sygises could not do, Grozny would forever put an end to the Emperor of Darkness. To think that by exterminating the evils at its roots, that she could forever be remembered for the extinction of evils. Such was the downfall of her negligent ideals. Sylvia now realized that she was simply an instrument of the Creator's will. She looked to the absent stars and cursed her fate. The irony in being betrothed to the very one she swore to destroy. What hurted her the most was that she was too hopeful of a romantic ending to her adventures - to finally be compensated for her lost youth. But like the rest, she now finds herself lost. Another victim of the Fourth Daemonic War. Were all of those cherished moments a mere ploy to expose her softer sides? Surely, Sertek was capable of tearing it all down at any given time, yet he stayed his hand. Suffering was a far worse fate than a glorious death upon the battlefield, she concluded. Sertek wanted her to bear the pain. A sadistic scheme that worked well enough. Every fiber in her being yearned to put an end to his wretched life upon that frigid field of grass, yet she could not bring herself to do it. She had already lost to the Daemon Lord's subversion technique long before she realized it. She was no more than a pawn in his game of world domination. Those mesmerizing eyes, Sylvia could not get them out of her thoughts.
In her solitude, the distraught and melancholic hero saw herself as a pathetic Sygis. Rather than bleeding herself on the field, Sylvia found her heart bleeding of emotions. She understood now why the Daemon Lord was so feared since the Mythic Age. A monster not in physical prowess, but by the power of his versatile and diverse arrays of manipulation. She underestimated her enemy, and now she had to pay a tremendous price for it. She felt her fist upon the nearby yew. Her gauntlets brazen, contusions formed upon her rough hands. All her pent-up frustrations were cast upon the sturdy trunk. She sobbed to herself, unleashing her full might of anguish upon her inanimate target. Reeling back briefly, Sylvia conjured forth her Solomon and struck the tree, breaking its center mass with burning aetherium. In the quake of the fallen tree, Sylvia got on her knees and cried to herself. Of all her might that she could muster up now, she could not bring herself to slay the Daemon Lord mere moments ago. His confident smile shattered her will, his sultry words petrified her arms, and his alluring eyes finally subjugated her own being without even the slightest hint of an attempt to fight back. She truly had lost.
The steely sensation beneath her gauntlet caught her attention. The bond of her matrimonial pact with the one she loved. In a swift attempt to unbind her armored hand, Sylvia was prepared to throw the false ring into oblivion. Yet, as she was about to unleash her powered stance, the hero could not bear to relinquish her claim over the white-gold accord. A part of her wanted to believe that she had loved Rael truly and faithfully. An earnest man that was killed by Sertek. Such a simplification of her issues was perhaps her only coping mechanism. She had to believe that it was the truth, with what is truly at stake for her fellow comrades. She had to be strong for their sake. Sylvia's selfishness had cost her a friend and a husband. She willed herself to believe what lies that she had concocted for herself. In the end, she still loved Rael, and that man is slain by Sertek. Plucking a string from her attire, Sylvia fashioned the ring into a necklace. A symbol of change, even if she was unwilling to throw it away. Rael will forever be with her. She tucked the ringed necklace between her bosom and willed herself to accept the falsified truth. Wiping away her tears, Sylvia continued to pace herself towards the Conestoga.
The wagon, in its relatively compact state, was more than enough to meet their needs. It's profile were reinforced with Krupp beams, and its wheels were wider than the ordinary covered wagons. The seams in the body of the wagon were caulked with tar to prevent water from seeping through. For protection against bad weather, a tough white canvas cover was stretched across the wagon. The frame and suspension were made of sturdy Kausoan wood, and the wheels were Krupp-rimmed for greater durability. Water barrels were built on the side of the wagon to facilitate provide immediate hydration, with toolboxes held for needed repairs. The Conestoga was not simply built for prairies and road alone, but also river crossings with its floor curving upwards like a gondola. Powered by a twin set of grozite-engines that did not require an animal to draw. The grozite reactor is enchanted with several earth runestones to facilitate its light-weight profile. Utilizing the latest designs of experimental land-creepers blueprints during the War, the Conestoga's coachman seat had a steering wheel and the appropriate pedals with ergonomic textures. Behind the driver seat was an open-hatched turret station as an elevated observation post, with a versatile circular railing to mount a variety of weaponry or a grozite-powered Aesir Thermal Device.
Within the wagon resided a purple grozite-core embedded within a reinforced reactor, separate from the engines. This reactor is capable of opening up a built-in pocket dimension for a spacious interior. The occupants may gain access to the main living room by entering the floor-hatch while the core is active. Due to it's volatile nature, there must be at least one or more personnel keeping watch of the core on the outside, lest the entire crew be trapped within the living room.
Having inspected the wagon, Sylvia came upon a note attached to the driver's seat. As she opened the letter, it reads:
"A parting gift to compensate for your future services. Mr. Vik is quite safe with me for the time being. How exciting! This is all I can do for you at the moment. Rest assured, the Conestoga's pocket living space is connected to a safehouse of mine. Use it wisely. Perhaps I will return Mr. Vik to the Company when the time comes. Until then, he is my respected guest and I will accommodate his stay accordingly. How wonderful it is to spoil him rotten! Godspeed, Companions and Harbingers. May your travels bear fruit to your endeavors!
Sincerely,
A friend.
PS. There is something I would like to entrust upon you all, in exchange for a lead on your assailants. Get in contact with my contact at the Red Cartagena in Reisdorf. They will brief you on the details of the assignment in person. The passphrase is 'Dreams of Albion, Far from Avalon.' When inquired, simply answer 'Five bottles for seven rhyns.' Tata, Companions and Harbingers.
P.PS. I've taken the liberty of storing two bottles of Albian whisky beneath the hatch for your travels. Don't waste them."
Sylvia eventually returned to the camp. She gave Sertek a murderous glance, then back at her allies.
"We have been entrusted a Conestoga Wagon from someone who is currently keeping our Dragon Slayer with them. Belay any concerns you might have, they seem to harbor no ill-will towards us. In fact, they seem to be elated with Vik in their custody. In return for their gift, we will follow through with an assignment they have for us in Reisdorf. We'll make contact with their agent at the Red Cartagena. While I am wary of their true intentions, they might have a lead on Five and Eleven that I cannot ignore. Even if it means that I have to abandon my creed and fight alongside Sertek and his minions, I will avenge Laure. No matter the cost. If you want out now, walk away now. This is a black path that I have chosen for myself, you need not bleed for me." Sylvia announced to the Company, eyeing them with a stern but concerned pair of eyes.
In her solitude, the distraught and melancholic hero saw herself as a pathetic Sygis. Rather than bleeding herself on the field, Sylvia found her heart bleeding of emotions. She understood now why the Daemon Lord was so feared since the Mythic Age. A monster not in physical prowess, but by the power of his versatile and diverse arrays of manipulation. She underestimated her enemy, and now she had to pay a tremendous price for it. She felt her fist upon the nearby yew. Her gauntlets brazen, contusions formed upon her rough hands. All her pent-up frustrations were cast upon the sturdy trunk. She sobbed to herself, unleashing her full might of anguish upon her inanimate target. Reeling back briefly, Sylvia conjured forth her Solomon and struck the tree, breaking its center mass with burning aetherium. In the quake of the fallen tree, Sylvia got on her knees and cried to herself. Of all her might that she could muster up now, she could not bring herself to slay the Daemon Lord mere moments ago. His confident smile shattered her will, his sultry words petrified her arms, and his alluring eyes finally subjugated her own being without even the slightest hint of an attempt to fight back. She truly had lost.
The steely sensation beneath her gauntlet caught her attention. The bond of her matrimonial pact with the one she loved. In a swift attempt to unbind her armored hand, Sylvia was prepared to throw the false ring into oblivion. Yet, as she was about to unleash her powered stance, the hero could not bear to relinquish her claim over the white-gold accord. A part of her wanted to believe that she had loved Rael truly and faithfully. An earnest man that was killed by Sertek. Such a simplification of her issues was perhaps her only coping mechanism. She had to believe that it was the truth, with what is truly at stake for her fellow comrades. She had to be strong for their sake. Sylvia's selfishness had cost her a friend and a husband. She willed herself to believe what lies that she had concocted for herself. In the end, she still loved Rael, and that man is slain by Sertek. Plucking a string from her attire, Sylvia fashioned the ring into a necklace. A symbol of change, even if she was unwilling to throw it away. Rael will forever be with her. She tucked the ringed necklace between her bosom and willed herself to accept the falsified truth. Wiping away her tears, Sylvia continued to pace herself towards the Conestoga.
The wagon, in its relatively compact state, was more than enough to meet their needs. It's profile were reinforced with Krupp beams, and its wheels were wider than the ordinary covered wagons. The seams in the body of the wagon were caulked with tar to prevent water from seeping through. For protection against bad weather, a tough white canvas cover was stretched across the wagon. The frame and suspension were made of sturdy Kausoan wood, and the wheels were Krupp-rimmed for greater durability. Water barrels were built on the side of the wagon to facilitate provide immediate hydration, with toolboxes held for needed repairs. The Conestoga was not simply built for prairies and road alone, but also river crossings with its floor curving upwards like a gondola. Powered by a twin set of grozite-engines that did not require an animal to draw. The grozite reactor is enchanted with several earth runestones to facilitate its light-weight profile. Utilizing the latest designs of experimental land-creepers blueprints during the War, the Conestoga's coachman seat had a steering wheel and the appropriate pedals with ergonomic textures. Behind the driver seat was an open-hatched turret station as an elevated observation post, with a versatile circular railing to mount a variety of weaponry or a grozite-powered Aesir Thermal Device.
Within the wagon resided a purple grozite-core embedded within a reinforced reactor, separate from the engines. This reactor is capable of opening up a built-in pocket dimension for a spacious interior. The occupants may gain access to the main living room by entering the floor-hatch while the core is active. Due to it's volatile nature, there must be at least one or more personnel keeping watch of the core on the outside, lest the entire crew be trapped within the living room.
Having inspected the wagon, Sylvia came upon a note attached to the driver's seat. As she opened the letter, it reads:
"A parting gift to compensate for your future services. Mr. Vik is quite safe with me for the time being. How exciting! This is all I can do for you at the moment. Rest assured, the Conestoga's pocket living space is connected to a safehouse of mine. Use it wisely. Perhaps I will return Mr. Vik to the Company when the time comes. Until then, he is my respected guest and I will accommodate his stay accordingly. How wonderful it is to spoil him rotten! Godspeed, Companions and Harbingers. May your travels bear fruit to your endeavors!
Sincerely,
A friend.
PS. There is something I would like to entrust upon you all, in exchange for a lead on your assailants. Get in contact with my contact at the Red Cartagena in Reisdorf. They will brief you on the details of the assignment in person. The passphrase is 'Dreams of Albion, Far from Avalon.' When inquired, simply answer 'Five bottles for seven rhyns.' Tata, Companions and Harbingers.
P.PS. I've taken the liberty of storing two bottles of Albian whisky beneath the hatch for your travels. Don't waste them."
Sylvia eventually returned to the camp. She gave Sertek a murderous glance, then back at her allies.
"We have been entrusted a Conestoga Wagon from someone who is currently keeping our Dragon Slayer with them. Belay any concerns you might have, they seem to harbor no ill-will towards us. In fact, they seem to be elated with Vik in their custody. In return for their gift, we will follow through with an assignment they have for us in Reisdorf. We'll make contact with their agent at the Red Cartagena. While I am wary of their true intentions, they might have a lead on Five and Eleven that I cannot ignore. Even if it means that I have to abandon my creed and fight alongside Sertek and his minions, I will avenge Laure. No matter the cost. If you want out now, walk away now. This is a black path that I have chosen for myself, you need not bleed for me." Sylvia announced to the Company, eyeing them with a stern but concerned pair of eyes.
Pilgrim59
👑 Exalted Monarch 👑
Sertek
Abandoned Church, Anthem County
Sylvia
Abandoned Church, Anthem County
Abandoned Church, Anthem County
Sylvia
Abandoned Church, Anthem County
Having lent an ear to the Swordsman, Sertek rubbed his hair back. There were words that he had wished to broker, but ultimately kept to himself. Despite what he had said recently to reinforce his stance, Sertek was wary of Sylvia's distraught. Nights after nights, how she groaned and tossed about the sheets, drenched in cold sweat. On occasions, her Solomon would find itself lodged into the wall before her. Sertek could not even begin to fathom the darkness that Sylvia was plagued with. She was only fourteen when she was baptized in the fires of combat. The dust may have settled, but the scars of the bygone conflict are as clear as the moonlit meadow before them. Laure's demise was ultimately his own fault. There are no shining stars for Sylvia and Sertek. It was here, that Sertek willed it to be the Rael that Sylvia once loved. Hassan's words raised a point that he could not ignore. Of all the whispers of the callous heart, Sylvia was his as he was hers. The Creator's wicked sense of irony. Was his time on Grozny truly was out of spite against the Creator or was there something other than defiance?
"Fates be damned. I will not see her treading the dark path she mustn't. I have decided, Hassan. I ask of you now to lend me your knowledge. Train me in combat. What good is a renowned Daemon Lord if I can't protect my Harbingers? A husband must be able to protect his most dearest. Eleven and Five will be brought to justice. I will not lose anyone else. I will not lose you. I will not lose Sylvia."
Sertek reflected on Irelia's coarse remarks. She spoke some truth. It is inevitable that this shaky coalition would soon come to an end. Until then, he had to be ready. By training with Hassan, he will be able to protect Sylvia, even if she may say otherwise. He must prove himself worthy to lead the Harbingers and be there for Sylvia. This was a chance for him to action what he could not do before. No matter how arduous the road may be, he will prove himself via his actions. The past will not hold him back, he resolved.
Sertek was caught off-guard by the foreign lady, of whom had presumed their nonchalant induction to be none other than another Harbinger. Sertek gave Hassan an inquiring look, before turning towards her again. As much as he dislike the idea of having to abide by the formalities of his past self, Sertek had little choice but to speak for himself.
"Forgive me, but my memories are in scattered. By definition and figure of speech. May I inquire of your name, miss...?" he simply replied.
When Preston finally concluded his general examination for Hershey, Sertek tuned in to what the doctor had to say.
"Thank you, Preston. I would like to hear more of your details once we have arrive at the church. Go ahead and mount up." Sertek nodded with a grateful expression.
"I'm sure Hassan will catch you up with the details en-route. Let us catch the wind, lest troubles come our way." Sertek said to white-haired Astrian. He had little else to say with his limited memory under pressing time. Aside from his wariness of incoming strangers, Sertek adherence to Hassan's acknowledgement was more than enough.
Sylvia eyed Irelia as the latter went forward. A part of her wanted to belay Irelia's keen hands, lest blood be spilled. But it seems that she did not need to. A conflicting feeling crept over her. Knowing her old self, she would not hesitate to draw the blade for Irelia. Yet here she was, indecisively staying her hand with hopes that the Daemon Lord would remain unharmed. She wanted to believe that Sertek was nothing more than the Creator's pawn like she was. All those times that they had spent together seem to pass by much slower than the fleeting days upon the Valley. Has she truly been corrupted by Sertek's words? Even when her crimson eyes were fixed on their destination, her head was filled with Sertek's face. She knew better than to wallow in sadness, yet here she was, trying to blame herself for Laure's death. Parts of her wanted to pin all that pain on Sertek. A target, like many other times she had done before during the War. Vengeance was always her attempt at coping with the pain. Was she truly worthy of the title of the Angel of Verdan? She was not a hero. She knew this. Perhaps it was time to relinquish the illusion that she was the icon of hope for Grozny. What hurt her the most was having to live with the thoughts of Laure's demise. The latter deserved a proper burial upon the sea of grass, not in the sewers. What did Laure meant to say with her last smile?
In time, perhaps Sylvia would come to understand Laure's unspoken words. Until then, it was time for the Angel of Verdan to shed her broken wings. So long as they could carry out their mission, Laure's death would not be in vain. Sylvia finally made her decision, as she made her way towards the Conestoga. Picking up on Eryn's fatigued state, Sylvia found herself a detail to attend to. A busy hand should keep her agony at bay.
"On your feet, gunslinger. We'll find you a warm pew to cozy up to soon enough. Come." she said to Eryn, shouldering the man, as she helped him up into the wagon.
She eyed Sertek briefly, having reviewed their headcounts. The latter shook their head slightly, as a powerful surge of memories passed him by in a flash. The way Sylvia shouldered Eryn was reminiscent of the Havenite long march to Mount Hornet. The last wintry days of the Aquila Campaign. Their eyes interlocked, and the two were back on those snowy peaks on Saarema. It was as if they never left that island in the first place.
"Last one in." Sylvia called out, breaking Sertek from his trance.
Sertek nodded, as he activated the grozite ignition port. Cranking the levers swiftly, Sertek took a breather before releasing the clutch gradually - propelling the Conestoga forward. Sylvia covered the ramp, as she mounted the turret port and kept her eyes on their surrounding. The Conestoga cruised by, hitting a few bumps on the dirt path, with a couple of abrupt stops. Sertek shed a sweat as he finally cleared the gear. The Conestoga brushed its wheels along, humming gently in the night under the cover of darkness as its presence was masked by the howling wind. The wintry songs of woe carried the Coalition of Iris Companions and Harbingers towards the doors of the dark church. The building stood tall before them, left to its own devices a long time ago. While the stained glasses have yet to give in to the mossy invaders, the hole in the roof was evident of a stray artillery round. Could this be the landmark of their arduous journey?
The snow descended upon the weary travelers, beckoning them to seek refuge. It was there, the unlikely band of heroes and villains cast their gaze upon a mysterious figure, of whom was lurking about alone. Sylvia quickly dismounted the wagon, prompting Sertek to do the same. The lancer steadied her hands, channeling her aetherium subtly beneath her tranquil façade. Perhaps the stranger was simply seeking refuge as she and the band of the Conestoga was. Or perhaps the man was already there waiting for them. Either way, Sylvia deemed it best to stay vigilant. Who was she to judge, having picked up Senna while Sertek allowed the presence of another Harbinger aboard. Sylvia deemed it best to let Fate takes its course. She knew better than to simply deny one of their destiny.
"We are roamers of principles and honor, a band of displaced warriors and scholars, with no intentions of harming a fellow traveler. We seek only shelter from the snow, if the Prophet would have us in Her house. What say you, to share the pews by Aerilia's grace?" Sylvia raised her voice towards the mysterious man before them.
Sertek eyed the man, as he slowly unveiled the wagon's Axian tarp, nonverbally gesturing that they have arrived. Depending on the stranger's words, things may escalate and the band may need to be on their feet. This was the beginning of their journey, to break the bonds that shackled their lives - to bleed one another. In Sertek's eyes, this was the beginning of something new. A chance for the Companions and Harbingers to come together and defy the Starline Fate that have long ordained their destinies. Sylvia's gloved hand was firm. She gazed on, as she drew a sharp breath. The two souls became one at that moment, albeit with different initiatives.
"We can never go back." Sylvia and Sertek muttered beneath their breaths.
Perhaps the Aerilian sanctuary may shed a vision or wisdom for these fugitives to reflect upon before dawn comes. The night may prove to be long, especially when old enemies share a tattered roof in destitution.
"Fates be damned. I will not see her treading the dark path she mustn't. I have decided, Hassan. I ask of you now to lend me your knowledge. Train me in combat. What good is a renowned Daemon Lord if I can't protect my Harbingers? A husband must be able to protect his most dearest. Eleven and Five will be brought to justice. I will not lose anyone else. I will not lose you. I will not lose Sylvia."
Sertek reflected on Irelia's coarse remarks. She spoke some truth. It is inevitable that this shaky coalition would soon come to an end. Until then, he had to be ready. By training with Hassan, he will be able to protect Sylvia, even if she may say otherwise. He must prove himself worthy to lead the Harbingers and be there for Sylvia. This was a chance for him to action what he could not do before. No matter how arduous the road may be, he will prove himself via his actions. The past will not hold him back, he resolved.
Sertek was caught off-guard by the foreign lady, of whom had presumed their nonchalant induction to be none other than another Harbinger. Sertek gave Hassan an inquiring look, before turning towards her again. As much as he dislike the idea of having to abide by the formalities of his past self, Sertek had little choice but to speak for himself.
"Forgive me, but my memories are in scattered. By definition and figure of speech. May I inquire of your name, miss...?" he simply replied.
When Preston finally concluded his general examination for Hershey, Sertek tuned in to what the doctor had to say.
"Thank you, Preston. I would like to hear more of your details once we have arrive at the church. Go ahead and mount up." Sertek nodded with a grateful expression.
"I'm sure Hassan will catch you up with the details en-route. Let us catch the wind, lest troubles come our way." Sertek said to white-haired Astrian. He had little else to say with his limited memory under pressing time. Aside from his wariness of incoming strangers, Sertek adherence to Hassan's acknowledgement was more than enough.
Sylvia eyed Irelia as the latter went forward. A part of her wanted to belay Irelia's keen hands, lest blood be spilled. But it seems that she did not need to. A conflicting feeling crept over her. Knowing her old self, she would not hesitate to draw the blade for Irelia. Yet here she was, indecisively staying her hand with hopes that the Daemon Lord would remain unharmed. She wanted to believe that Sertek was nothing more than the Creator's pawn like she was. All those times that they had spent together seem to pass by much slower than the fleeting days upon the Valley. Has she truly been corrupted by Sertek's words? Even when her crimson eyes were fixed on their destination, her head was filled with Sertek's face. She knew better than to wallow in sadness, yet here she was, trying to blame herself for Laure's death. Parts of her wanted to pin all that pain on Sertek. A target, like many other times she had done before during the War. Vengeance was always her attempt at coping with the pain. Was she truly worthy of the title of the Angel of Verdan? She was not a hero. She knew this. Perhaps it was time to relinquish the illusion that she was the icon of hope for Grozny. What hurt her the most was having to live with the thoughts of Laure's demise. The latter deserved a proper burial upon the sea of grass, not in the sewers. What did Laure meant to say with her last smile?
In time, perhaps Sylvia would come to understand Laure's unspoken words. Until then, it was time for the Angel of Verdan to shed her broken wings. So long as they could carry out their mission, Laure's death would not be in vain. Sylvia finally made her decision, as she made her way towards the Conestoga. Picking up on Eryn's fatigued state, Sylvia found herself a detail to attend to. A busy hand should keep her agony at bay.
"On your feet, gunslinger. We'll find you a warm pew to cozy up to soon enough. Come." she said to Eryn, shouldering the man, as she helped him up into the wagon.
She eyed Sertek briefly, having reviewed their headcounts. The latter shook their head slightly, as a powerful surge of memories passed him by in a flash. The way Sylvia shouldered Eryn was reminiscent of the Havenite long march to Mount Hornet. The last wintry days of the Aquila Campaign. Their eyes interlocked, and the two were back on those snowy peaks on Saarema. It was as if they never left that island in the first place.
"Last one in." Sylvia called out, breaking Sertek from his trance.
Sertek nodded, as he activated the grozite ignition port. Cranking the levers swiftly, Sertek took a breather before releasing the clutch gradually - propelling the Conestoga forward. Sylvia covered the ramp, as she mounted the turret port and kept her eyes on their surrounding. The Conestoga cruised by, hitting a few bumps on the dirt path, with a couple of abrupt stops. Sertek shed a sweat as he finally cleared the gear. The Conestoga brushed its wheels along, humming gently in the night under the cover of darkness as its presence was masked by the howling wind. The wintry songs of woe carried the Coalition of Iris Companions and Harbingers towards the doors of the dark church. The building stood tall before them, left to its own devices a long time ago. While the stained glasses have yet to give in to the mossy invaders, the hole in the roof was evident of a stray artillery round. Could this be the landmark of their arduous journey?
The snow descended upon the weary travelers, beckoning them to seek refuge. It was there, the unlikely band of heroes and villains cast their gaze upon a mysterious figure, of whom was lurking about alone. Sylvia quickly dismounted the wagon, prompting Sertek to do the same. The lancer steadied her hands, channeling her aetherium subtly beneath her tranquil façade. Perhaps the stranger was simply seeking refuge as she and the band of the Conestoga was. Or perhaps the man was already there waiting for them. Either way, Sylvia deemed it best to stay vigilant. Who was she to judge, having picked up Senna while Sertek allowed the presence of another Harbinger aboard. Sylvia deemed it best to let Fate takes its course. She knew better than to simply deny one of their destiny.
"We are roamers of principles and honor, a band of displaced warriors and scholars, with no intentions of harming a fellow traveler. We seek only shelter from the snow, if the Prophet would have us in Her house. What say you, to share the pews by Aerilia's grace?" Sylvia raised her voice towards the mysterious man before them.
Sertek eyed the man, as he slowly unveiled the wagon's Axian tarp, nonverbally gesturing that they have arrived. Depending on the stranger's words, things may escalate and the band may need to be on their feet. This was the beginning of their journey, to break the bonds that shackled their lives - to bleed one another. In Sertek's eyes, this was the beginning of something new. A chance for the Companions and Harbingers to come together and defy the Starline Fate that have long ordained their destinies. Sylvia's gloved hand was firm. She gazed on, as she drew a sharp breath. The two souls became one at that moment, albeit with different initiatives.
"We can never go back." Sylvia and Sertek muttered beneath their breaths.
Perhaps the Aerilian sanctuary may shed a vision or wisdom for these fugitives to reflect upon before dawn comes. The night may prove to be long, especially when old enemies share a tattered roof in destitution.
LOCATION: Abandoned Church, Anthem
IRC & HAR PRIMARY OBJECTIVE: Rest and recuperate for the night.
SECONDARY OBJECTIVE(S): Explore the abandoned church for supplies.
EPISODE SPECIAL CONDITIONS:
- All Imperial forces are hostile and on high alert.
- Iris Company is disavowed. Iris Badges are obsolete and will alert authorities.
- Mercenaries and Bounty Hunters have been augmented to the Imperial manhunt.
- Degrakes may be persuaded to leak intelligence - for a price.
Worthlessplebian
Doctor Nope
Zariel
Larry
Celestial Speck
ElenaIsCool
Soviet Panda
Huntertabbysandshark3
xAlter
Funnier President
Nessi
Remembrance
Last edited:
Pilgrim59
👑 Exalted Monarch 👑
Under a tattered roof, by Aerilia's grace, the Iris Companions and Harbingers found refuge. The drifting snowstorm failed to wash away their own troubled bodies and souls. Yet, despite being outnumbered and demoralized, they hung onto their personal faith in their keepers. Torn between the blatant truth and the false detractions, what is worth of their shaky pact is yet to be seen. As a new morning dawns, their future awaited them. Upon that wagon resided their opportunity to right the wrongs not of their doing. Movement would become their lifeline.
The hero, having rediscovered her own zeal, decided to compartmentalize her personal grievances. By spilling her own sorrows to Sertek through the stormy night, Sylvia found her much-needed distraction. Even so, she kept her distance with the Daemon Lord. The Daemon Lord, on the other hand, found that he was short of everything expected of him. The once feared ruler of the void was now nothing more than an uncertain man, of whom was unsure of his place in this world.
As these two and their sympathetic compatriots fathom their disposition, the colorful banners of the nearby town of Troyes signaled the opening of the annual Frostival. Despite the attention cast upon the fugitives, even the most upstanding citizen must learn to abide by the festivities. For the heroes and villains, this was their opportunity to sneak past the lax patrols and be well on their way to Reisdorf. Low on supplies, whatever Sertek and Sylvia could salvage from the church was scant at best. Meanwhile, the Harbinger Hershey has yet to awaken from her deep slumber, while Companion Eryn's treatment became limited due to their dwindling inventories. Troubled over these developments, Sylvia and Sertek devised a plan to move on and forage what they can along the way.
Worthlessplebian
Doctor Nope
Zariel
Larry
Celestial Speck
ElenaIsCool
Soviet Panda
Huntertabbysandshark3
xAlter
Funnier President
Nessi
Remembrance
Sertek
Abandoned Church, Anthem County
Sylvia
Abandoned Church, Anthem County
Interacted:
Remembrance
Mentioned: N/A
What seemed like a heartful exchange of intricate minutiae from the night before had vanished, as Sylvia finally got on her feet. Her eyes were as frigid as the hallowed ground around her. The last thing she recalled was her discussion of Morthorian flightless birds with Sertek before her fatigue finally took a hold of her. What was certain, however, was a particular blanket upon her shoulders. She reckoned there was only person to have done so, and that very person had emerged from the backside of the church with a closed pan in his hands. The fruity aroma invited the curious hero over. Under the drowsy twilight of the 'morrow dawn, the hero gathered her strength.
"Aren't you up early." Sylvia remarked as they stumbled upon one another.
"I can say the same about you." Sertek replied.
An awkward silence prolonged, before Sertek lifted his occupied hands slight upwards.
"Well, breakfast's about to be done. Granola and whatever the woods got to offer."
"Sounds good. Hey-... I..." she hesitated.
"Yes?"
"It's nothing. Carry on." she concluded, shifting the door slightly.
Sertek smiled slightly, as he carried the pan inside.
Within the confines of the church, where it was absent of the frigid wind, Sertek settled down his recipe. When he uncovered the lid, the pan unveiled several rolled-up bars of oats and berries, held together by honey. Sylvia gave Sertek a look, curious as to how he could procure such a treat.
"Go ahead. Try one. Rise and shine, folks. Breakfast is served." he replied, before she could even ask, then invited the others. As he did, Sertek simultaneously procured a kettle of tea to complement their meal.
Sylvia took the first bite, even if her body was used to running on an empty stomach for days during the war. Much to her delight, the warm granola melted in her mouth - permeating a sharp sweetness with a hint of roasted berries. While the hero was fighting the urge to gobble it all down, Sertek, on the hand, was glad the hero enjoyed his recipe.
"So, what is the plan this day? Eryn won't be able to make it to Reisdorf at this stage. Hershey is also out cold. We need medical and rations." Sertek inquired, prompting Sylvia to open up the map she had found last night.
"Immediately, yes. I can't have the Companions waltzing into a town without alerting the entire county."
"They have yet to identify the Harbingers by face thus far. The Companions should stay with the Conestoga. The Harbingers will gather from the surrounding population."
"There is a lumbermill south of here. Maybe they'll have something for us."
"Maybe. It is Frostival, I'm sure they'll be generous enough to spare some bread."
"We will also need to disguise ourselves."
"Even so, without identification, even the common troopers are equipped with grozite lens. Those checkpoints will be troublesome. Especially this town here. Last I heard before we left Dragonsreach, a regiment is reeling back from the Ortolan to Bussy-Sezanne." Sertek noted, as he brushed over the map.
"Then I suppose we should head directly for the Traveller's Camp. Hopefully, they'll have what we need." Sylvia pointed out their next destination.
Being an iconic figure of the war, however, had its adverse expectations. Both Sylvia and Sertek knew this. While they did not say it, the Hero and the Daemon Lord nonverbally agreed on one thing. They cannot afford to be divided now, especially when they have two companions out of commission. The Traveller's Camp beyond the southern woods seemed to be their best bet. Perhaps they could even trade some information without alerting the local law enforcements. Once they have finished breakfast, they would be on the road once again.
Having squared away her share of the meal, Sylvia paced herself towards the altar. While she did not get on her knees, she showed her respect by restoring the broken crest to its proper facing. Having done so, she laid her hand over the altar and muttered to herself, before turning away. Sertek turned towards the comatose Dreamweaver, as he carried her towards the wagon. Rounding up their stay at the empty church, it was time for them to continue their journey. Perhaps their fateful sojourn was christened encouragement from Aerilia herself. Religious or not, they cannot deny the grace that Aerilia had shown them over the night.
Sylvia turned towards the All-Maker preacher, voicing their next destination while curious of his personal journey.
"Some higher power have let you to us, under Aerilia's shades. We will be heading southward towards the Traveller's Camp. We can give you a ride there, if you wish."
"Aren't you up early." Sylvia remarked as they stumbled upon one another.
"I can say the same about you." Sertek replied.
An awkward silence prolonged, before Sertek lifted his occupied hands slight upwards.
"Well, breakfast's about to be done. Granola and whatever the woods got to offer."
"Sounds good. Hey-... I..." she hesitated.
"Yes?"
"It's nothing. Carry on." she concluded, shifting the door slightly.
Sertek smiled slightly, as he carried the pan inside.
Within the confines of the church, where it was absent of the frigid wind, Sertek settled down his recipe. When he uncovered the lid, the pan unveiled several rolled-up bars of oats and berries, held together by honey. Sylvia gave Sertek a look, curious as to how he could procure such a treat.
"Go ahead. Try one. Rise and shine, folks. Breakfast is served." he replied, before she could even ask, then invited the others. As he did, Sertek simultaneously procured a kettle of tea to complement their meal.
Sylvia took the first bite, even if her body was used to running on an empty stomach for days during the war. Much to her delight, the warm granola melted in her mouth - permeating a sharp sweetness with a hint of roasted berries. While the hero was fighting the urge to gobble it all down, Sertek, on the hand, was glad the hero enjoyed his recipe.
"So, what is the plan this day? Eryn won't be able to make it to Reisdorf at this stage. Hershey is also out cold. We need medical and rations." Sertek inquired, prompting Sylvia to open up the map she had found last night.
"Immediately, yes. I can't have the Companions waltzing into a town without alerting the entire county."
"They have yet to identify the Harbingers by face thus far. The Companions should stay with the Conestoga. The Harbingers will gather from the surrounding population."
"There is a lumbermill south of here. Maybe they'll have something for us."
"Maybe. It is Frostival, I'm sure they'll be generous enough to spare some bread."
"We will also need to disguise ourselves."
"Even so, without identification, even the common troopers are equipped with grozite lens. Those checkpoints will be troublesome. Especially this town here. Last I heard before we left Dragonsreach, a regiment is reeling back from the Ortolan to Bussy-Sezanne." Sertek noted, as he brushed over the map.
"Then I suppose we should head directly for the Traveller's Camp. Hopefully, they'll have what we need." Sylvia pointed out their next destination.
Being an iconic figure of the war, however, had its adverse expectations. Both Sylvia and Sertek knew this. While they did not say it, the Hero and the Daemon Lord nonverbally agreed on one thing. They cannot afford to be divided now, especially when they have two companions out of commission. The Traveller's Camp beyond the southern woods seemed to be their best bet. Perhaps they could even trade some information without alerting the local law enforcements. Once they have finished breakfast, they would be on the road once again.
Having squared away her share of the meal, Sylvia paced herself towards the altar. While she did not get on her knees, she showed her respect by restoring the broken crest to its proper facing. Having done so, she laid her hand over the altar and muttered to herself, before turning away. Sertek turned towards the comatose Dreamweaver, as he carried her towards the wagon. Rounding up their stay at the empty church, it was time for them to continue their journey. Perhaps their fateful sojourn was christened encouragement from Aerilia herself. Religious or not, they cannot deny the grace that Aerilia had shown them over the night.
Sylvia turned towards the All-Maker preacher, voicing their next destination while curious of his personal journey.
"Some higher power have let you to us, under Aerilia's shades. We will be heading southward towards the Traveller's Camp. We can give you a ride there, if you wish."
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