FateGuard

Silence came from behind the door for quite some time while the man half-shrouded in shadows held her captive with a restraint neither magical nor physical. Choices of how to handle the situation raced through his mind. Quite obvious to anyone witnessing their conversation, Erilyn had just invited him to join her in attending the celebration. Behind the door the fingers of his left hand started to tremble in the slightest out of longing. Memories of the days before his disfigurement haunted him more ferociously than any monster the FateGuard had ever faced. Days when he received specific invitations rather than an unnamed inclusive sort. Ones that came from him belonging to the FateGuard rather than for who he was on his own.

". . . Alright. If you truly desire a cursed countenance such as my own to accompany you milady, I cannot refuse your wishes. Let me go get. . . ready."

Candlelight moved away from behind the door to the sound of footsteps fading off into the house. Erilyn would find herself waiting for some time as he clothed himself in attire appropriate for a royal celebration. Fine robes that he wore in service to the city while fighting countless perils were donned once more. . . with a few additions. Boots slipped onto his feet which were leather underneath while the outside was plated in fine silver that were not meant for combat at all. Gloves of fine fabric covered his grotesque hands with the grandest of deception. From the neck down he had the appearance of a high ranking religious figure rather than a man who brutalized demons in the dark with a cross meant for combat.

Yet the reflection cast in his mirror undid all of that finery.

Eyes of a distinct blue niceness looked upon the haunting guise that brought to one's mind the image of those condemned and tortured in hell. Only for this man it occurred while he still walked in the land of the living. Skin replaced by scars from both burns and claws that had healed just enough for him to survive. Just around his left eye and left cheek had a patch of skin been left unscathed somehow from the tortures he had endured during a night nothing short of hell on earth. Bandages were wrapped with care around every inch of his head from the neck up in a way that displayed just how skilled he had grown in doing it on his own. Loose enough to avoid restriction of movement and yet tight enough to not allow any slippage during the most extreme combat. Golden hair escaped from the top of the bandages, some of it hanging at eye height at the current length.

Vanity indulged in at last, he started to approach the door he had left Erilyn standing outside all this time.
 
At last, something that he knew how to .. do.

His reaction to the unfolding events was slow. Blood fountained up from wounds, and time slowed where he gazed at the drops of blood as they were split out from the stream of blood, landing in a fine mist over another fellow's face. The man with the lizard eyes, the culprit, used the confusion provided by the redness to slip away, pushing his way through the crowd and into a side chamber. His movements were swift, his body flowing like a leaf on a rocky stream, easily twisting and turning through the confused and panicked people.

Time accelerated, and the motions of the lizard man become a blur as he whipped through the crowd. Tahan's eyes lazily tracked the motion. His brain was still a few seconds behind.

Without motions or commands from anyone else, he dropped into a crouch and sprang at the nearest wall. The bricks were rough and not evenly set, and he climbed the wall with ease, using the momentum from the jump to propel him onto the rafters. Arms trailing his body, he leaped along the wooden beams, bypassing the viscous crowd of people that would have slowed him down. Just as the lizard threw the door open, Tahan landed with a crash behind him. He shook both of his arms and two glistening white spikes fell from his sleeves into his waiting fists. He held them, one of them oriented down in his hands, the other up.

Both knew that there would be no negotiations. They flew at each other, testing their agility. The lizard man's hands morphed into the grasping claws of a dragon, deadly pointed nails seeking to gouge holes in Tahan's body. For his part, he either deflected the advances of the claws with the spikes, or ducked the stabs that they made. There was a haunting absence of the sounds of metal on metal, instead hollow ringing similar to bashing wood against wood, a drum beat replacing the ringing sounds of sword combat.

Tahan dropped into a low crouch and sprung forward, driving one spike deep into the lizard's shoulders with both hands. This did not seem to faze the assassin in the slightest, for the lizard raised his leg and delivered a mighty blow to the boy's chest, sending him flying back into the opposite wall. The shock of the impact winded Tahan, his eyes becoming glassy and unfocused, spit pooling in the corner of his slack mouth as his head tilted to one side. The lizard approached him, tearing the spike out of his shoulder. One glance at it elicited a wide grin from the assassin; his teeth were also sharp, tilted backwards in the fashion of a snake.

"Little legionnare .. you are still incomplete without your armour!"


 

Surprised in her own skills of persuasion, or maybe he had truly wanted to go all along, Erilyn stepped a pace back from the door when he agreed, to allow him to change and open it. If he'd been woken so late at night, she assumed that he would need to spend several minutes getting ready for a royal party and in this estimate, she was not disappointed. She did feel rather silly standing out alone in the dark, however, and edged slightly nearer to the door without realizing it. A breeze rustled the skirts of her dress and she shivered slightly, looking up at the castle which seemed to loom not far in the distance.

When at last Leonardo approached the door, Erilyn was unsure of what she had expected. Had she truly thought that he would not be wearing the enigmatic bandages that generally hid his visage? If this was perhaps the thought that she had entertained in some subconscious space of her mind, it was not what she was met with. The wrappings were still quite firmly in place and his attire was at least not too deviated from normal. Leo wore his robes and Erilyn wondered what else she had expected from him, a dress? Still, the gloves on his hands were beautiful and his boots were quite obviously different, it wasn't as if no effort had been made. Standing in a radically different attire herself, however, she felt a little embarrassed to greet him now that he was ready.

Biting her lip, Erilyn turned in the direction of the castle. They were running late, though the party was likely to carry on well into the early hours of the morning and it was not yet so late that they would have by any means missed out on the festivities. Still, eager to spend as little time in the potentially dangerous dark streets as possible while so ill-suited for combat, Erilyn had a mind to hurry. As she would have ordinarily done on a night when defending the city, she reached for Leo's hand to drag him along behind her but thought better of it nearly instantly. With some reluctant recognition for the different tone of the evening, she fell back to walking alongside Leo and instead linked arms with him.

"We ought to hurry some, though. Don't want to draw more attention to ourselves by being too late. I assume neither of us particularly likes the attention."

Not too far away to walk, the entrance to the castle was soon clearly visible, though something seemed wrong. There would ordinarily be guards at the outside of the door sleepily waiting through the festivities and admitting latecomers. At least from what she could see, these men appeared to have gone inside and abandoned their post out front of the doors. Peculiar indeed, she thought, her wariness piqued already.

She turned to look at Leo's face and then reminded herself that she would not be able to glean any expression from his features to confirm whether he had noticed or not and if he was thinking the same things that she was. Cautiously, the pair approached the door, Erilyn strongly wishing she had more dangerous accessories on her right at this moment. Foolishly, she had trusted in the safety of the castle and had not so much as brought a dagger with her.

Up close now, and pulling open the door, the sound of a commotion inside was clearly audible. Stepping through, she heard louder than anything Corben's voice, instructing that the castle be sealed. Glancing to the door behind herself and Leo, Erilyn slammed it shut and pulled the heavy locking mechanisms into place. They would need to find out what was amiss so that they could properly deal with the conversation, but before they could go in search of Corben, a breathless maid came running through the hall, stumbling over her own garments and screaming about assassins in the castle halls.

"Leo, if there are assassins, we must search for them. They might be out to harm the king." A flash of red caught Erilyn's eye as she spoke, a cloak disappearing down a nearby hall. Without hesitation, she grabbed her loose skirt with her hands and tugged them up, not caring about exposing the bare calf beneath. There were none who, in the face of an assassin, would care the she showed a bit of her unclothed leg. With this minor adjustment to make running at least somewhat easier on herself, Erilyn gave chase to the billow of red cloth she had seen.

"Halt now! If you do not, I will have no choice but to apprehend you by force!"
​
 
God dammit. Arkavenn really wished that he had brought his mace along at the very ease. First Tahan (he almost had to smack that boy with a giant plate) and then now this! This time things were serious, and he was pretty sure not every heavy thing would do against these assailants. Arkavenn briskly moved after Derek, pushing servants and party-goers alike out of the way and he caught the large battle axe in one meaty fist. Normally a weapon that was only there for decoration and impractical on the battlefield, the battle axe felt more like a light sword than anything to the giant. "Go! I'll take care of things here!" Arkavenn called out to Derek's back as the man, wielding Alondite dashed through the crowd. Arkavenn's attention was immediately drawn to a spot in the crowd where the guards were being pushed back rapidly, their circle stretching and almost breaking in some places. He could hear a loud cry of pain as one guard fell, his helmet crushed with a mighty blow.

There was his opponent.

The crowd quickly parted before his bulk as he let out an earthshaking bellow and ran towards the strong man who was, at a single time forcing so many guards back. When he pushed past the circle of guards, he found himself face to face with a warhammer, which he barely managed to deflect with the flat of the axe's blade. The man before him was large - Not as large as he was, but still large by the standards of others and covered from head to toe in a mottled cloak that performed illusions with the shadows cast by the chandelier above. The shadows danced and writhed, making it difficult to anticipate the man's actions as you had no idea which creases were real, caused by movement of limbs or actually created by the dancing shadows. Arkavenn swung his axe through the air, the metal blade sparking along the ground where the man once was; strong, and fast. This was going to be difficult.

Arkavenn had to swerve aside, in order to avoid getting his arm crushed by the warhammer but then he found his opponent already running off, bashing two guards out of the way with two savage blows of his hammer. The giant thundered after his rival, darting into the corridors of the castle but soon he lost his opponent in the darkness. He looked around the area and he found every candlestand blown out, and he pulled his lips behind his teeth in a snarl. He had just walked into a trap and with the person's special cloak, he was going to be in trouble. The giant heard movement behind him, relying entirely on his instincts and years of experience in battle to dodge the mace that barely missed his head, replying his opponent with a wide swing of his axe.

There was a grunt of pain, and Arkavenn felt a rush of satisfaction knowing that he had managed to injure his opponent, even though it had all been down to dumb luck. There was the sound of footsteps and Arkavenn could see movement out of the corner of his eye, a dark shape darting underneath a curtain to go into another corridor. He could briefly see the dark shape open the door, light entering the area for a moment before the door closed and Arkavenn barreled through the door, splintering the wood inwards in multiple directions without any care. However, once he went in he felt a flash of pain surge through his back, causing him to stumble and lose his balance for a moment. Hot blood ran down his back, soaking the shirt slightly - it was not a deep wound, barely more than a scratch but it had cut many of the surface nerves, causing much pain.

The giant managed to turn around, only to widen his eyes in surprise as the man now was wielding a scythe in his hands and standing at the side of the door, instead of a warhammer and there was no sign of any injury. Arkavenn was sure that he had hit the man. Was the man able to heal, too ... ? No, that couldn't be. No part of his clothing was ripped. He grit his teeth, and did not allow himself to feel any demoralized by the fact that he had been cheated.

Ignoring the pain in his back, Arkavenn charged forward to feint at his opponent, who surprisingly fell forward and raised the sickle to deflect the axe, only to find that Arkavenn didn't stop at all and instead threw his shoulder into him, bashing him into the wall. The next thing Arkavenn knew, the entire room was plunged into darkness as the candles were blown out and the windows were closed.

How?

A stab of pain erupted in his left arm, the sickle blade burying itself inside it. Arkavenn swung out wildly, catching his opponent in the side with the flat side of the axe and he quickly stretched his arm a little, glad that none of the tendons or muscles were cut. Normally, in such a situation he would have been told to run but no. He wasn't going to run. The FateGuard did not run. If he were to die here, carved into bits he would go down fighting, swinging this god damned axe that just wasn't his mace until the very end. Backing away, Arkavenn could feel his breathing speed up. Was that fear he was feeling? In near complete darkness, with a fast and strong assailant anywhere ... Was this fear? Fear he had not felt in so long?

"Are you going afraid now, Berserker of the FateGuard?"

The voice came from his side, and as he moved Arkavenn sent an arcing swing of his axe in that direction, hoping to hit it but only met clean air, and followed up by a set of giggles.

"Panicking already, are we, Giant of the FateGuard?"

This time the voice came from his other side, and slightly deeper than the one before. His fist lunged out, feeling the rush of fabric before he once again met clean air.

"Do you fear death, Hammer of the FateGuard?"

The front.

Before Arkavenn could attack, he found himself backed to the window and he threw his axe back, smashing the window open and letting the bright moonlight flood into the room.

Three dark figures stood before him.

Oh fuck.

Together, they chorused, "You die tonight, Arkavenn of the FateGuard."
 
Following her with hurried footsteps on the way to the castle, Leonardo still wondered how he had allowed himself to come along with Erilyn to a party at which he still felt unwelcome. Keeping an impressive pace up with the young woman, he found himself thankful that the silver of his boots did not hinder his swiftness with their ornate decoration. Part of this due to the fact he did not have boots of solid silver. Leather made flexible through the work of a fine craftsman helped his feet move with ease along their journey. On the other hand he had no intention of wearing such fine footwear into battle.

Fate, however, paid no heed to fashion.

Upon arriving at the gates, bandages hid the look of suspicion on his face at the lack of guards. Though one could blame it on the King himself wanting to have all celebrate him and forgo protection. Many held faith in the King's personal guard. Even then it still came off as unwise. . . the decision of a man drunk on more than just mead. Yet the further within they went the more obvious it became that this was no poor judgment call. Instead they found themselves in the middle of a serious breach with no less than assassins running loose in the castle after an attempt on the King's very life!

Erilyn's words, though they fell upon ears covered in bandages, were not unheard by any means albeit perhaps a little muffled. A silent nod came in agreement toward her just before the young warrior girl raced off after something that he had not even seen. Chasing her without hesitation, he soon caught sight of the billowing red cloak. More than that. . . he noticed that this strange figure leaped rather than flat out ran. Luck was on their side only in that the assassin had not yet escaped into the wide open expanse of the courtyard. Doors would slow the crimson figure down and the not so high halls would hinder the leaps it made. So long as this was not some sort of mist or smoke creature hidden underneath the rags there existed a chance of catching it.

Soon the chase went down a hallway with castle guards at the end of it.

"BAR THE DOOR! STOP THAT MAN!!!"

For once in came in handy that even in torchlight one could recognize the bandaged knight from any distance, as the two men sealed the door without haste and thus trapped the assassin within the hallway. And as a result trapped themselves with the assassin as well. Difficult to see in the dancing light were dozens of needles crafted from an indiscernible material flung from practiced hands with unbelievable speed. Blood red was the garb of the one who now made the guards bleed out and clutch their wounds in despair. Each needle had struck at a point where not only their armor was weak but would hinder their movements.

In the blink of an eye four men were sentenced to a slow death.

Leonardo dashed with utter disregard for his own life, outrunning Erilyn due to her fine feminine footwear, as he tried to catch the assassin. Clenched into a fist, he struck out at the back of a bald head the color of dried blood that belonged to the assassin. At the last possible moment the assassin leaped straight onto the ceiling and looked down upon the Combat Medic. Spectacular eyes of blueness widened in surprise at what he saw staring back. Ruby red eyes glittering bright by torchlight pierced him just as those needles had the soldiers, for there were so many of them. Dozens, even hundreds of tiny eyes all compounded together but each looking in a different direction.

"God in heaven. . ."

They were fighting a creature both insect and man!

Blurred as the next movement was, Leonardo still recognized this strange assassin was reaching for some sort of weapon and rolled toward the dying guards in anticipation of attack. A low hiss sounded along with the plink of four objects striking the floor where Saint had just stood. Though that failed to stop Leonardo kicking a sword across the ground to Erilyn's feet while also picking up an axe from one of the dying guards. While not his weapon of choice he would have to make due.

Now their foe leaped to the ground between them and gazed upon them both at the same time.
 
The lizard assassin picked Tahan up by the throat, the claws on his transformed hand digging into his flesh like an iron maiden. Spherical droplets of blood formed from five prints in his neck, and they shivered with his fear, unable to decide whether to stay put or accumulate more blood and roll down as rivulets of red.

For good measure, the lizard slammed the boy against the wall one more time. His head whipped back and forward, and no doubt the whiplash from the blow nearly blacked him out. His tongue lolled, and spit dripped freely from his mouth. But his eyes sharply snapped back into focus and he began to struggle desperately against the grip, causing the nails in his throat to dig in deeper. Trails of blood ran freely down his neck, lost amid the brown habit. The reason for his revival was rather clear:

"As interesting as you are, you will need to die here and now."

The assassin pressed the point of his other claw over Tahan's heart and slowly applied pressure. The terror that washed over the young boy was the inevitability of his death; tears streamed down his eyes and he gasped desperately, grasping the claw on his neck as he felt the keratin dig into his skin.

Oops, the nail glanced off a rib. Without any change in expression the lizard twisted the claw ever so slightly. Sinew and muscle parted as the claw wedged itself in between ribs, prying them apart as a fulcrum. The point drove ever deeper and deeper, tickling his heart. He could feel it beat now, wildly stuttering, trying to calm itself so it would not scratch on the nail ...

THUNK. The lizard's eyes rolled up into his head.

A dragon's tooth was sticking up through his skull. The entry point was from just below the chin, and two trembling hands were underneath it. Using the wall as a backing, Tahan placed both of his feet against the lizard's chest and pushed him off. The claw on his throat, now slack, gave way easily, and the lizard fell backwards, stiff in the rigors of death.

The boy collapsed into a heap on the ground. He crawled to the assassin, whose eyes were rolling in their head. Perhaps the pupils came into focus, one last time on his face, and maybe the tongue flickered in a ghastly, knowing rictus, but the eyes soon exploded in a gout of slimy green blood as he plunged another spike into them. Tahan's mouth was contorted in a mixture of fury and something else as he drove his spike into the beast's head, hoeing it like soil until a pockmarked skull was only visible.

He fell backwards, on his hands, gasping. He did not sob, but tears ran freely down his cheeks.

The bright red spot over his heart slowly spread.
 

The creature before them, could he truly be called a man? did not seem to be overtly threatening at first glance, lacking fangs or talons, but the eyes were enough to strike cold dread into Erilyn's heart. The needles, which seemed to come from all directions at once, did nothing to dampen her worry. It was through mostly luck that both Leo and Erilyn managed to evade the projectiles aimed in their direction after the guards had been dispatched. It seemed as thought Leo had the same general thought as she did, though - what was this monster?

Not that there was overmuch time to dwell on his species and how it was possible, as he was still hostile and appeared to be silently making his next decision for what to do next. From the guards, weapons were scavenged to arm the two Fateguard members and Erilyn made a note to honor them for their sacrifice when this was through, since they had trapped the assassin and blocked his exit. It was a shame that they had come to face so quickly with an enemy that they could not handle, as they had shown bravery and a good sense of duty. Villains would always take the opportunity to rid the world of that which was pure, though. Could that be why o much of the Fateguard was good, but tainted?

The assassin took position between Erilyn and Leo, now, having jumped from his previous position and both seemed to be equally uncertain of how to deal with him. Taking a defensive stance, ready to move at a moment's notice and with her sword held more as a comfort to herself than to intimidate, Erilyn considered the options. Thus far, they knew very little about this entire situation, only enough to know that Corben wanted them stopped and had deemed them assassins. It was enough for Erilyn to detain or even slay the man, but reasoning with him might end up being worhwhile, especially while formulating a plan. She knew little of the dragonflies or of their physiology, but she could tell that while it saw in all directions, its aim was less true with objects that tended toward being behind it. She stashed this observation for later use in the fight.

"If you let us secure you and come willingly, we may allow you to live. All you need to do is drop your weapons and allow my companion to restrain you while we determine what is amiss in the castle. I do not know who you claim to be, but there is no cause for uselessly laying down your life in a fight where you are outnumbered."

She doubted highly that an assassin would turn himself over, but it might give them more indications of his potential weaknesses. With Leo at the barred end of the hall, it was important that Erilyn hold her ground and not allow the abomination to escape. This was a contributing factor to her stance, though not the entire reason. She was also more than a little worried about fighting a foe whose strengths seemed readily apparent and whose weaknesses were not well-known. She hoped that Leo would take the opportunity to close the distance between himself and the dragonfly man.

The creature did not seem particularly willing to talk, however, and Erilyn's statement was met with more needles being flung at her position as she barely managed to jump backward enough to evade them. At least with the thing in their sights they could move with enough warning from the projectiles. Having one's back to this assassin was a mistake that could not be made twice. As Erilyn jumped to dodge the needles, her left shoe flew off of her foot and soared for the creature's face. Instead of rolling or sidestepping, the assassin once more jumped, this time placing him against the wall, still in between Erilyn and Leo. Erilyn frowned to herself and considered a perplexing possibility: was it possible that this man could not move by walking?

"Leo, notice how he only jumps" Erilyn warned, her eyes still trained on the dragonfly man. She and Leo would need to work together if they were going to dispatch such an agile adversary and to do that, both needed to be equally informed.
​
​
 
His throat and jaw still ached, from the chokehold Ferrick had inflicted the night before. But that was lost to adrenaline now. Like all the questions... questions of who these people were, how they had worked their way amongst the perfomers, what had passed between them and the King who even now hung between life and death in the chambers behind him.

Corben sprinted left and right, taking each twist of the castle passage, at times stumbling, at times colliding with the walls. His senses, awash with alcohol, played every trick they could. They brought him the echoes of the banquet cries, the roar of the writhing king, the smell of blood and smoke, the taste of repeating vomit, the rush of night air from the battlements. His quarry was ahead, glimpsed at every corner before he turned out of sight. Their footfalls made melody. All was visceral, violent and unrelenting.

A guard lay around the next corner, on hands and knees, clutching his head. The attacker had barged past him with force. Corben did likewise, vaulting the soldier and scrambling onwards. The open air lay ahead - a stone walkway that crossed the bailey. It was soaked by the falling rain. Corben ran at full speed. On the other side, an archway led to the north wing of the castle.

It was empty.

He realised in time that the assassin could not have cleared the corridor. Dropping, the marshall rolled forward, onto the walkway and beneath the swinging blade of the assassin, who had been waiting to the side of the first arch. He came up, spun, grabbed the man's knife-hand and slammed it to the wall. The weapon plunged to the courtyard below, landing behind Derek, who was fighting his own antagonist. The assassin's other hand slammed into Corben's nose. He staggered, twisted, jabbed the man in the ribs, but the assailant's second hand struck his throat. He seized the man's robes, teetering on the edge of the walkway, regaining his footing. Then, with a roar, he used his greater weight to slam the assassin against the arch.

The advantage was brief. The assassin's boot collapsed Corben's knee, and as he came down the assassin's elbow rammed into his face. Blood gushed from his nose and filled his airways. He thrust his own palm foward, shattering the man's knee, then rose with an uppercut. The assassin rocked back against the wall, his own blood mixing with Corben's.

Then it happened. As before, in the banquet hall, there was a flash of black. The assassin's leading wrist became like scale, the skin enforced with razor carapace. It slipped upwards, faster than human, and skinned the flesh from Corben's cheek and eye-socket. The marshall yelled and stumbled back. A kick from the assassin sent him crashing over the walkway's edge.

He fell between the corbels of the gantry, his hand finding a hold to dangle by. And there, in the streaming rain, he hung as the assassin loomed on the walkway above. His arms were acid pain, his eyes and throat choked with blood. He beheld the end. The assassin offered no words, only a moonlit scowl as he brought his foot down towards Corben's fingers.

There was a pulse, as if lightning had struck. The assassin's footing gave out. He twisted, arms flailing for support. Then the briefest cry as he tumbled over the edge and past Corben. With a sickening crunch he struck the courtyard, a few feet behind Derek.

His life spared, the marshall dangled, wincing as the rain mixed with his trickling blood. He felt his arm about to separate from the socket, the agony building, till finally a hand gripped his. He found purchase. The pain receded. He got his foot against the corbel and hauled himself up onto the gantry, slumping beside his saviour.

"Did I come too soon, Marshall? I would not wish to hinder you."

Half-blind, Corben squinted up into the face of Arch Mage Endleweiz, before rolling onto his back to gasp for breath.

 
Derek had lost track of the time that had passed since beginning his battle with the queen's assailant. Neither were making much head way. Derek was too physically powerful for the centaur man to fight in a straight battle and the centaur was too fast for Derek to catch. It ultimately turned into a match where the assassin would charge Derek and they would take individual swings at one another. What Derek hadn't counted on was...

"Too slow, Vermilion!!!"

Derek grunted as the assassin spun around on his next approach and slammed his back hooves into Derek's chest causing the knight to grunt in pain. His armor wasn't harmed in anyway, but the shockwave made Derek's chest go numb every time. It was beginning to affect his shoulders and making his blade harder to swing. Alondite's power hastened his recovery time, but if he kept letting the assassin hit him like this he wasn't going to be able to keep forever, "Dammit...need a plan!" Derek began surveying his surroundings more closely as the assassin began circling the courtyard again for more speed. The axe from before was still there, but Derek had already thrown it once. The assassin wouldn't fall for that again. There was however a crumbling stone pillar in the middle of the courtyard that gave Derek an idea. He quickly repositioned himself with his back to the pillar, "Ha...haha! Is that kick all you have? Your front leg is hurt. You can't possibly do that same trick forever!"

"No? Then perhaps I'll have to just end this here!" the assassin charged again. This time Derek was ready. When the assassin spun around to kick Derek's head off he lowered himself down and the kick landed instead into the pillar which shattered into pieces. Derek quickly thrust Alondite upwards towards the assassin's chest and forced him to disengage again. The assassin ran directly away and began circling for one last pass, "If my halberd can't pierce your armor then I guess I'll just kick your head off your fucking neck!" the assassin taunted and turned around for another kick...

"I have you now!"

...only to be slammed in the chest by a hunk of rock the size of a small cow. Derek used the strength from Alondite to throw large pieces of rubble. The assassin crumpled and coughed up blood. Victorious, Derek was about to charge in for the finishing blow only to hear a cry and a impact behind him. Derek looked and recognized the man as the assassin from before. The one whose attacks had passed through Corben to attack the king. He briefly thanked his lucky stars that that particular assassin hadn't been his opponent. An enemy that could bypass the Regalia of Ancient Kings entirely would have been an extremely grim situation. Looking up to the balcony where the assassin fell from his eyes widened to see the Marshall hanging by one hand, "Corben!!! Hang on! I'm com--"

"DIE VERMILION!"

The assassin had gotten up and made one last charge. Derek wouldn't make it. There was no way to dodge in time. But just when all hope seemed to be lost for him the assassin cried out in agony. Looking to the assassin's side the queen had awoken, taken the axe Derek initially threw, and had slashed into the assassin's side with all her might. His opening finally clear, Derek swung Alondite in a wide arc and decapitated the assassin. With the threat neutralized Derek looked back up to the balcony to see that Arch Mage Endleweiz had intervened. Looking back to the queen he laughed, "Thank you, your highness. I was about two seconds from certain death," the Queen shook her head and smiled.

"No, Lieutenant Vermilion, I'm sure you would have thought of something."

A broad smile grew beneath Derek's helmet. Looking back up to the balcony he waved Alondite in the air using the holy aura of the sword to catch the attention of Corben and Endleweiz.

"Heeeeeey! Corben! Endleweiz! Down here! I have the queen! She's safe now!"

He would have never imagined the queen had something like that in her. Clearly a result of being Ganthor's wife.
 
Blue eyes watched with mistrust as Erilyn tried to reason with the humanoid creature which they had managed to keep from escaping. Mistrust for the revolting abomination that assimilated man with insect. Eyes beyond counting that stared back at him filled the combat medic with a dread for the unholy being. Even if this was just magic of some sort the appearance did not fail to have a terrifying impact. Though he was not dead or detained, at least the assassin still remained in one part on the castle grounds in a two on one fight. Odds were in their favor right now other than their foe having the advantage of surprise. The amount of tricks or needles up his sleeve just might exceed their expectations. Careless actions could turn the tide in his favor quicker than a needle hurled from those deft hands. For that reason alone the choices of how to engage him were limited on the off chance he pulled something unexpected.

"He is an assassin. To him life is worthless."

Which meant they had to expect it.

Leon commented with a blunt amount of righteousness in his voice to announce himself to the multi-eyed foe. He had indeed taken the chance to close in on their foe. But not in the way one might expect from one who had not been formally schooled in battle tactics. Everything right now came from experience gained on the battlefield in defense of the city he would protect until his last day on earth. Saint had realized, thanks to Erilyn's comment that indeed the creature seemed to only possess jumping as a means to move around. Perhaps it had something to do with the transformation into such a fearsome creature? Either way it lead to him staying at a distance, but in a key position that denied their foe an escape.

"Instead he shall get what he values most. . ."

Now the creature only had the deceased guards behind him, barring the door with their corpses that would require quite a feat of strength to move given the armor each one wore. Too much for a lone assassin meant to move quick on their feet. Pressured into action it leaped onto the door itself and all that barred it in the vain hope of breaking it down through inertia. No such luck came as the door held strong against the single attack against it. Plus the bodies stacked up against it absorbed some of the impact as well. Though if repeated jumping strikes came in the future it might actually give in if the creature was given half the chance.

". . . DEATH!"

Rather than reason with the disgusting devil, his words were meant to work up their foe into anticipating an attack. One which would come without fail at the right moment as Leon charged head on with his axe readied. Yet this attack had thought behind it and had been crafted with the sole purpose of throwing off the normal sensibilities of how a fight should happen. Just as the insect assassin jumped, Leon shouted to Erilyn while raising his own axe overhead.

"NOW!"


For now physics came into play since once airborne, most creatures cannot alter their trajectory without the aid of wings. Something that as far as they knew this foe lacked. Leon let his fine boots skid along the ground as he swung the axe with all his might while the creature passed overhead. He felt the blow connect as the weight of the weapon in his hands increased upon meeting mid-air resistance. But this was not the killing blow. . . meaning Erilyn could not afford to fail in following up his attack if they hoped to win. Even if it could stick to walls or the ceiling it had to land somewhere. Which left it open to attack while still in motion.

The exact kind of attack his fellow member of the FateGuard was likely about to land.
 
Derek and Corben were joined by Tahan, who was having difficulty dragging the corpse of the lizard man with him. Turmoil still prevailed in the castle, and along the way outside he was accosted by many a soldier who had advanced threateningly on him. However, the quick recognition of his pendant paved a path through the throng, and he moved through the crowd, a small invisible bubble repelling people as they shouted, organized search parties, or tended the wounded and the king.

It was raining outside.

Tahan lifted his head and stared into the clouds, wincing every so often as a droplet hit at or near his eye. He released his grip on the pockmarked assassin and its head dropped to the ground with a hollow ring, the perforated skull a very good conductor of sound. As he looked upwards, his eyes wandered over the scene up top, with Corben and the mage. The pupils swiveled downwards, looking down his nose at Derek and the aftermath of his battle, Tahan's head still tilted upwards. Whether this gesture was born from simplicity or was a taunt, was unknown.

Apparently he had wizened up to be discrete, for the lizard had been thoroughly harvested and dissected in the privacy of the empty antechamber before being dragged out as a proof of kill. Later, leaners would discover discarded skin and tissue, but there would not be much; Tahan had instead cut into the stomach cavity and pre-sliced up all the parts into separated pieces, bleeding out the corpse (and he saved a vial as well) for later examination. The neatly butchered organs were stacked and the chest cavity was closed, the clothes rewrapped around the whole affair.
 
On the walkway above, a glance was all Corben needed to confirm the Queen was safe. Guards were arriving to support Derek, among them the boy Tahan, with his macabre trophies. The Marshall did not stop to see this. Turning, he dashed past Arch Mage Endleweiz and into the passageway. "The King!" The mage followed, the two of them hurrying back towards the inner chambers.

They had been gone only ten seconds when the next attack was made. A subtle whistle cut the courtyard. Derek was giving orders to the soldiers to clear the corpses, when he was struck. He had put his arm up, to indicate his kill, and by chance it had cut the line of sight to the Queen. When the arrow hit he felt two things: the initial thud of the arrowhead on his armour, and then the secondary, more insidious pressure.

Everyone saw it. The arrow was hovering, pushing against his arm, trying to punch through it and strike the Queen. Like a humming bird, floating and drilling at the armour. Derek snarled. The Queen gasped and backed away. He kept his arm up, knowing that if he dropped it the arrow would continue its trajectory.

The soldiers were dumbstruck. Tahan stared. Then another arrow shot from the battlements, impaling the thigh of a nearby soldier. Everyone scattered, taking cover amid the pillars and hay carts of the courtyard. There was only rain and darkness above. Whoever the archer was, he had perfect vision and was making shots from the cover of darkness.

And he would not leave until the Queen was dead.


* * * * *​


Skidding round a corner, Corben yelled at the guards to part. They got clear as he barrelled through the door and into the chaos of the King's drawing room. There were serving maids bringing water, Honour Guard shouting, apothecaries and priests squabbling. The King was being restrained on the bed, his barrel-like body thrashing and twisting. Every curse under the sun was being bellowed from his regal lungs - a good sign, if any, that there was still life in him. Lilith was there too, holding the King's left arm in place. She looked to her Marshall as he entered, eyes stern but dreading.

As Corben pushed to the bedside, he could see the peril that gripped the king. Ganthor's skin was pale and turning ever greyer as veins pumped black and purple. The poision was voracious. His eyes were bloodshot red. Yet he saw his Marshall sure enough and his hand shot out, gripping Corben's shoulder, pulling him closer. "Fuck it, Corben... I'm a fool... a damned fool."

Glances shot between the priests and apothecaries. Corben ignored them. "Be still, Sire. You'll live."

"I got so tired..."

Endleweiz stepped from the shadows, not a bead of sweat on him to suggest he had been running like Corben. The wizard's coal-black eyes surveyed the King. "This is Outsider poison. It is moving against the pulse."

"CAN YOU STOP IT?" Corben yelled.

"Perhaps. I must consult the Guild."

"THEN DO IT!"

With a subtle bow, Endlewiez departed. Corben and Lilith, the two FateGuard entrusted with the King's protection, were holding him now. "...I needed a son, Corben..." Ganthor's voice was sandstorm thin, his face like alabaster. "...I needed him..."

"Who are these assassins?" Corben whispered back, his hand locked with Ganthor's. It was a bitter memory of their childhood - the arm wrestling matches the thuggish Prince would insist on. Ganthor had always won. But not now. His strength was failing.

"...they promised she would bear... the Queen would conceive..." He convulsed again, the black veins spreading beneath his skin. "...just a little price, they said... just some of the castle maids... I thought they wanted whores, that's all..."

Mutters leapt between the soldiers and courtiers. Corben shared their shock, but he knew he had to act. The King was about implicate himself - in what, Corben did not know - but it was the sense of something terrible, something that would shake the kingdom if it became public knowledge. He leaned over his friend. "Quiet, friend! Save your strength."

"...Then they asked for noble women... I expelled them from the palace... I thought it would all go away."

"HE IS FEVERISH!" Not knowing truly why he did so, Corben yelled above the King's confession, glaring at the servants. "BRING WATER!" As the goblet was passed he eased the water into the King's mouth, drowning any further truths.

But in Corben's mind, the words of the Assassin echoed.

Endleweiz appeared again, with other grey-cloaked sages of the Eldritch Guild. Corben waved the other servants aside. "GIVE THE MAGES ROOM!" And as the wizards laid their gnarled hands upon the King, the fight to stop the poison commenced.
 
Derek did not take to the arrival of Tahan well. He was still particularly angry about earlier. Dragging the body of the lizard man did nothing to help that. As city constable, Derek recognized a re-dressed body when he saw one. Without a second thought Derek told the arriving soldiers to dispose of and burn centaur man's body. He wouldn't let Tahan near a monster body if he could help it. He had to be sure that no monster parts were being taken. As he raised his arm to direct the troops and arrow slammed into the Regalia.

"ARCHER! TAKE COVER!"

Eyes darting about frantically Derek had to squint his eyes to see this new assassin in the rain. Finally spotting the archer Derek reached up to the arrow that was pressed against the Regalia and quickly snapped it in two. Like a marionette with its strings cut the splintered arrow fell to the ground, whatever magic fueling it having vanished with its vessel destroyed. His eyes on the archer Derek managed to make out the motion of nocking another arrow. He put himself between the queen and the assailant. The arrows had a magic powered velocity, but they were still just arrows and the Regalia of Ancient Kings couldn't be pierced by something like that. The problem now was that he couldn't move. The soldiers could take cover behind the bushes perhaps, but with the central pillar of the courtyard destroyed the only truly safe place was behind Derek. A quick motion had the queen kneel behind Derek, making it impossible to get a shot. A magic powered velocity was one thing, but the archer couldn't affect the trajectory any more than a normal archer. If he could the queen would be dead already, but as his new enemy had his bow string drawn back without firing it put Derek's mind at a minor ease. However with no way for him to fight there was only one thing to do: Command.

"One archer. Can't disregard the possibility of additional attackers. No reliable cover. The enemy is using magically enhanced arrows but he's still a normal man from what I can tell...he can't nock an arrow more than once every couple seconds. Unknown amount of ammunition...alright."

Derek made two firm motions in Tahan's direction. The first was pointing to him, the next pointing at the ground next to him. As the boy arrived Derek kept his eyes glued on the archer, "Alright. I don't like you, I don't think you like me, and frankly I have half a mind to break your scrawny neck for trying to stab me earlier, but for now we have to kill this guy," another arrow slammed into Derek's armor. It was as if the archer was confirming that he couldn't pierce it. Breaking the arrow Derek kept the face of his helmet affixed to the archer to give the illusion of him still watching. Between the rain and the shadows in his helmet the archer wouldn't be able to tell that Derek's eyes briefly darted to Tahan, spotting his wound, "I get that you're wounded but I need to know if you can still fight. If I give you an opening can you get up there and get him down here? We can't fight like this. He's got a height advantage and we have no cover at all."
 
Moving over was risking an arrow. If he was seen as high priority, the next one would have went for his heart. The arrow stuck on the knight's armour, wobbling and quivering like a compass needle, and it would have certainly found his heart this time had the archer taken an interest in his demise. Dragging the lizard out here suddenly didn't seem like a good idea - it was a perfect way of labeling himself as capable and dangerous. Furthermore, the rain was ruining the corpse! Surely Father Gregory would chew him out later, but Tahan was not nearly as concerned with these things as the father was.

"I don't dislike you." Tahan kept his eyes on the ground the entire time Derek gave him instructions, as if receiving a sermon from a priest. Immature in thoughts, yet puberty pushed the budding feelings of dominance and pecking order through his veins.

He waited until he heard the high pitched buzz of another arrow. In between draws there would be no way for another arrow to be loosed on Tahan's heart, and he sped away into the shadows. He threw off his cloak and pendent, the brown habit fluttering wildly in the rain and the laughing skull falling heavily to the ground. Underneath he wore cotton fastened tightly to his body by leather straps - not unlike the assassin who first confronted the King. The source of his weapons were bared for all to see: a ring of leather loops around his forearm, each one tightly gripping a marbley white spike, irregularly chiseled into a point. In total, there may have been about twenty; four or five were missing.
 
Once the three of them ended their lines, they leapt at the giant that stood backed against the window, with nowhere to run except for a death plunge to the cobbled stones of the castle courtyard below, where there was another scuffle going on. The third one that had just appeared wielded two curved daggers that glinted in the moonlight, and when he swung it the air whistled as a testament to its sharpness. Even before he could react, Arkavenn felt two blades sink into his side, a sharp pain surging through his body as the blades clove through flesh but luckily missed any vital organs, embedding itself in Arkavenn's hip bone.

The pain hit Arkavenn like a wave, but he managed to react as the assassin tried to pull out his stuck daggers - a blessing in disguise. The small daggers were painful, but had not done too much damage due to Arkavenn's size and Arkavenn swung out with all his might, his meaty fist slamming into the head of the one busily trying to free his daggers. There was the satisfying crack of bone as the man's nose shattered and he flew back, falling onto the ground.

Arkavenn did not have any time to celebrate his victory as the scythe whistled past his ear right after he narrowly dodged it, before he ignored the pain that plagued his body and swung his axe out in defence, batting the warhammer away and keeping the scythe wielder at bay as well. The warhammer came once again, its wielder leaping into the air and striking at Arkavenn from above, requiring Arkavenn to raise his axe and support it with both hands to stop the force.

The giant collapsed to a single knee as his right thigh exploded in a flash of burning pain, and he shoved forward to push the warhammer away before the blade of it hit the ground too, unable to focus enough to continue holding it up.

Something snapped inside him, as Arkavenn looked up to see two of his attackers stand before him, while the other one started to rouse. There was something about his position - being on one knee that he loathed, that he absolutely detested and would do anything to change. Rage rose within him, as the giant threw his head back and let out a roar - the battle cry of a cornered animal that held anger, love and hate in equal measure before he stood back up, despite the flaring protest of his injured leg. The one with the warhammer charged at Arkavenn, bringing the blunt implement up from the side to hit the giant but Arkavenn stepped forward, moving faster than he had ever done before in his berserker's rage, grabbing the man by the face and throwing him into the ground with a single hand.

Without a second thought, Arkavenn brought the heavy blade of the axe right down onto the man's chest. The metal sang as it sliced through the man's body, chorusing with his screams before they were abruptly cut off as Arkavenn felt the thud of the axe hitting the stone floor jar his arms.

Crying out in rage at the death of his comrade, the scythe-wielder rushed forward at Arkavenn, intending to impale Arkavenn in the chest. Gathering momentum by bringing the axe up from the ground, the sharp edge of the weapon cut through the wood of the scythe's handle, all but cutting the man behind it in half.

The last survivor, still groggy from being smashed in the face by the supernatural strength of Arkavenn stumbled like a drunk man at Arkavenn, only gathering speed at the last few moments and it was the easiest thing in the world to do for Arkavenn to step aside, letting the man's momentum carrying him forward a bit more before Arkavenn planted a foot in his behind and shoved him out of the window.

Moving over to the window, adrenaline still pumping through the veins of the berserker as he looked at the situation below. He could see the blur of an arrow fly from an adjacent wall, only to be stopped by Derek's Regalia, but instead of falling to the ground the arrow pressed against the armour.

Magic. Again.

Making the best out of the time he was still in an adrenaline rush, the big man ran out of the room and headed for the battlements of the adjacent wall. He didn't have much time. He could feel the pain slowly begin to return to his body, the hot blood running down his side ... And he knew that even for him, there was no way he was going to be able to fight anyone half-decent in this state.
 
castle_night.jpg


As Arkavenn emerged from the passageway onto the battlements, darkness shot across his vision. There was a crack. His nose seemed to leap back into his skull. The pain was a blinding spray inside his head and he dropped against the parapet and his attacker carried on running around the battlements. Blood and agony blinded Arkavenn.

The archer had heard the giant coming, and he had seemed to know exactly how high to jump... and exactly where to hit him...

The assassin slipped back into shadows. He looked down. Through the total darkness he saw Tahan, hiding in the shadows. His arrow flew. Luckily the boy had brought his arm across his chest, to view the spikes in their holsters. It was the only thing that stopped his heart getting skewered. Tahan dropped with the arrow embedded in his bicep and burrowing to get through and pierce his torso.

The archer changed positions again. His eyes were on Derek now, that shining bear who embraced the Queen in impervious metal. He loosed another arrow, then a second, then a third. Each one thudded into the backplate of Derek's armour and hovered there, drilling like hornets. The archer readied another. If Derek turned to snap the first three arrows, it would leave the Queen open.

Just an inch of target was all the archer would need.


* * * * * *​



"Hold on, Sire!" Corben gripped the King's hand tighter as the Eldritch Mages chanted and applied oils and salves to his black-veined flesh. Ganthor's thrashing had grown weaker. His eyes were glazed and staring at the ceiling. He was losing the fight.

Corben exchanged glances with Lilith, who held his other hand. They each feared the worse.

"Most strange..." muttered the Arch Mage Endleweiz, who stood at the foot of the bed as his students worked.

Corben's eyes shot to him. "What?"

"Our spells are killing the poison - of that there is no doubt. But... the poison is being replenished continually."

"THEN STOP IT!" The ponderous nature of the wizards was infuriating the marshall. The Arch Mage simply wagged a ring-encrusted finger and resumed scratching his chin.

"You must let me think, Marshall. Or we shall lose His Highness altogether."
 
Arkavenn was down. Tahan was down. This was only getting worse, "Goddammit. I'll have to think of something harsher than yelling at any of the FateGuard who didn't show up to the party tonight," Derek snarled as the next three arrows made metallic noises as they slammed into his back. The queen looked up at Derek with eyes filled with worry.

"Lieutenant, if you don't move--"

"And if I do move you're going to die and I can't let that happen...I fear we may need Ganthor's heir more than ever before this night is done," Derek's voice was troubled. This was nothing but a stalemate. The archer couldn't pierce the Regalia but Derek couldn't move and any FateGuard that entered the courtyard or moved was picked off. As the situation stood Derek was the only one who could safely fight the archer, but even if he could move he would be unable to reach the archer as is. His mind briefly flickered back to the armored red dress on the mannequin back home and he again cursed whatever made it traumatize his sister. If Ann had been here with the Tempest Garb none of this would have mattered. She'd have been able to move about freely; too fast for the archer to hit. And with that agility she'd be able to reach and deal with the assailant.

"Alright then. I'm on my own...I need to get an opening. I need to get the queen somewhere the archer can't hit her so I can take care of him..."

"Lieutenant. Have you no ideas?" Derek paused for a moment.

"There was one option, but it's too risky without the help of another FateGuard. Arkavenn is wounded and the boy is too stupid to wait till I give him an opening like I told him I would," Derek sighed in frustration, "No, you're highness. For now its just you and me. And I'm...well...stuck."
 

Alyss had left Derek and Arkavenn's company only for a while it had seemed, just to search for her lover.

When she came within earshot again, she heard commotion and chaos, her hackles rose and she went to where she had hit her weaponry inside of the castle. It was a good idea that she had fought to bring it with.... though, she hoped it wasn't too late.

She rushed in, seeking their leaders, the king and queen... her eyes narrowing on the scene that laid before her. There was no time to talk, or to think, though there was enough thought in her head to not take any stupid risks. Derek was pinned by some magically guided arrows, that obviously sought the queen. The king was... this did not look good.

She rushed to Derek, studying the arrows. "How can I help?" She asked, scouring the direction that the arrows might have originated from then found her target. Three arrows loosed from her bow in rapid-fire, but only one managed to graze the assailant, Alyss looked to Derek for a quick moment. "Tell me what to do, dammit!" She snapped loudly, while firing off two more arrows, one lodged in a bicep, but she knew it wouldn't slow him down- she needed a good shot to his chest. She felt driven by guilt that she wasn't back sooner. She had to do something.

Her eyes her hard, dark, and cold, but it was easy to see that she was on edge. Her hand pulled another arrow back, aiming, while trying to move closer to Derek, trying to lessen his burden of shielding the queen. Unlike him, however, her armor was more lightweight. Hers was mostly thick leathers and chain mail in some areas- she was not used to being a stationary fighter, she was used to being constantly on the move, to shoot from different places, to escape any retorts from the enemy.

Her hands were shaking. Her breath showed in the air, yet it was not cold at all..... she was. She feared people seeing her like this... she didn't want people to see her like this... she was scared... old memories bubbled up and she tried to ignore it. She finally succeeded in calming herself, but at this point, it was easy to spot Alyss, her skin dotted with sweat, from the warmer air coming into contact with her. Vapors rose from her, and you could feel the chill from her easily.

"Tell me what to do, Derek.... I can't get a good shot on this man, but I can try to buy time for you to get the Queen away from here.....You're a better shield than I..." Alyss spoke, as a fog of cold air fell from her lips.... The FateGuard had never even seen her like this... frost was forming a thin film on her lips and her skin.

She looked to Derek, seeking direction. She feared dropping stance to try to break the arrows, yet, perhaps that was what she should do...
 
castle_night.jpg


The archer dropped back against the parapet, shielded there from the courtyard below. Alyss's arrow was lodged in his bicep. He exhaled, a soundless gasp, then snapped the shaft of the arrow. He was calm, even in pain, and even as he realised that he had failed. With his wound he could not draw his bowstring, and with no other weapon an attack on the queen would be suicide. Granted, he had known with the other assassins that death was near certain this night, but unlike the older acolytes he was no fool.

His masters would forgive him, or kill him later. He would lose nothing in retreat, except perhaps the choice of how painful that death would be.


* * * * * *​



"Well?" Corben could hold the silence no longer. His nose and cheek still bled from the assassin's attack and it stung his eye as he yelled at Endleweiz. The Mage, meanwhile, had one thumb pressed to his lips, perhaps in thought, perhaps in casting, as he beheld the thrashing King.

"The poison is entering his blood..." the Arch Mage muttered. Then his hand moved through the air, following the contours of the King's discoloured body. "The veins are darker on his left side... the pattern of haemorrhaging more..." His hand lowered, his ringed fingers tracing over Ganthor's heart then up to his shoulder, then along the bicep, to the forearm, then the wrist...

...where Lilith was restraining the King.

Corben's head turned. The Mage's eyes narrowed. He pulled the King's arm out of Lilith's grip, and as their flesh parted the bladed-ring on her thumb could be seen tearing free of the King's wrist. Blood and black poison dripped onto the sheets. Corben's eyes widened.

Then Lilith's other arm extended. And like a snake uncoiling her barbed whip unravelled from around her corset and beneath her dress. It lashed out, in a single sweeping arc, catching the chests and faces of the people around the bed. Endleweiz, two wizards, a priest and a serving girl - they all fell howling and bleeding from the attack.

Corben was at the other end of the arc, the last one at the bedside. He had a moment to react. A moment to comprehend the betrayal and confirm his duty.

His right arm lifted. The whip struck it and the barbed tip spun around and around, coiling the length of his forearm and piercing him in a dozen places. He screamed, but used the noise to drive himself forward. With the whip caught, he leapt across the bed and sent his full weight against Lilith, pinning her whip-arm to her chest and crashing with her to the floor.

There were shouts, drawing of blades, cries of injury. But all Corben could hear was his and Lilith's breath, racing as they struggled. Her had her face-down. He straddled her back, both hands on her whip arm. He was trying to disarm her. But her other hand was free and the poisoned blade-ring burrowed into his thigh. He felt the poison enter him. He screamed again. Rage and panic came in flood. He released her arm and drove both hands through her flowing red hair. Gripping the skull, he lifted, then slammed it down. He felt her nose break. Lilith released the briefest cry, neither the shriek of a woman nor the grunt of a man, but somewhere inbetween, as she had always lived.

He slammed her head down again. Spittle and mucus dashed the flagstones. Then a third time, and her teeth came loose.

A fourth time. And Lilith struggled no more.

Corben untangled his hands from the bloodied mess of her hair and then, with the whip snagged around his arm, collapsed to one side.


* * * * * *​


The archer slung his bow across his shoulders, the intricate woodwork of the Pilgrim's Thorn pulling snug to his back. With his arm wounded every motion was a prick of agony, but he made no sound to indicate it. Through the darkness his enchanted eyes made out every detail of the battlements, including the parapet where Arkavenn was nursing his bleeding nose. He would not be able to escape past the giant.

Turning the other way, Kael checked the passage to the east turret was clear. If he could make it to the royal orchard then his horse would be awaiting him. His day-job at the farrier's ranch had not been in vain. The purebred he had trained would be silent and swift.

He rose in the shadows, taking one last glance to the courtyard below. There was a flicker of a smile. Kael was glad it was Alyss who had wounded him. The trick of compensating for rainfall was one he had taught her himself. They were growing more alike each day. He could not begrudge her, and though he cared little for Derek or Arkavenn, or even the boy, he did not wish them dead.

Not by his hand, at least.

Cradling his arm, Kael slipped away into the eastern passage and was gone.
 
Musical Ambiance: Bittersweet Victory

Derek looked up again to the balcony where the archer had been and much to his surprise he was gone. Finally safe, he reached behind himself and snapped the last three arrows in his back as he and the queen stood. As the other soldiers began to rise the heavy rain that had been relentlessly falling on them began to lessen until it was nothing but a mild shower. The queen looked up to Derek, "Why do you think he fled?" Derek shook his head.

"I don't know. I'm just glad Alyss showed up when she did" Derek looked over to where Arkavenn tended to himself, ""Arkavenn! I can't believe I'm saying this but take care of Tahan, get that lizard body out of the rain, and make sure that centaur man's body is burned to ash! Alyss! Well don--" Derek cut his words short when he looked over to the archer, "My god, Alyss!" the knight sprinted over. He had never seen her in this bad of shape, "Oh my god. Um...um...somewhere warm...your highness! Is there anywhere with a fire!? A tub we can fill with warm water?! Anything!?" the queen paused for a moment and nodded, motioning for him to follow. Scooping up Alyss in his arms Derek followed the queen down the hall to a guest room where someone from the church had been staying before the party.

Motioning the queen to follow him in Derek quickly shut the door behind them and checked the room. He couldn't risk anymore assassins getting the drop on him. The church-goer's fire from earlier in the evening still barely going, Derek pulled a log off of the stack in the corner and threw it on. Rushing over to the bookshelf he searched the shelves for a newer book; one he knew he could still replace at the bookstore. Finally he opened it and tore several pages out before throwing them into the fireplace where they began to burn, catching the new log on fire. Finally he helped Alyss in front of the fireplace as he pulled the adamantite weave cape off his back and wrapped it around her, "Dammit, why is this all happening now!?"
 
You must log in or register to reply here.
Top Bottom
Back