Dark Ambitions

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Torack

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The morning sun glistened against Luther's bare chest as he started slowing down from his jog around the island, his chest heaving with every breath as he made his way through the market to buy the supplies he would need to bring to the cook as it was his turn this week. After getting the supplies, he made his way back to the Black Towers, eight large, pure black towers named after their geometrical shapes aligned in a large octagon, with a black marble courtyard where he found a few of his brothers and sisters sparring.

"Luther!" One of them called out, a man by the name of Erenheel, as he ran towards him moving stray golden strands of hair from his face as he did so. "How good of you to finally come out of your hut, we haven't seen you in ages!"

"You've clearly gone blind, Erenheel," Luther smiled. "How is it you haven't seen the only hulking northman in all Sunderland prancing about like he owns the place. Your godly powers of foresight are evidently wasted on you."

"The brutish northman has learned a three syllable word!" Erenheel lightly mocked.

"Aye, indeed. Keep it up, brother, and you might taste what it feels like to have a cleft skull," he laughed shoving the other member of his order away as he went to deliver the goods to the kitchen.
 
They thrashed back and forth, swinging their swords in unison. The lightweight sword in Riley's hand was a lot easier to swing, and his strength gave him an edge on his sister. She was fast, but his speed was improved by the lack of weight, pinning them at about the same caliber. He hacked and slashed, and Reyla very annoyingly dodged and deflected. The fight seemed to have been going on forever before her brother's stronger muscles began to win over her stringy build, and before long, she held up her hands in defeat, setting the sword on the ground with shaking arms. She sat down and panted, letting the air rush back into her lungs. The sun made it harder for them to adjust, but they managed. At worst, it nulled their abilities - but not their natural-born human ones. He sat down in the grass next to her and chuckled.

"You need to work on your form. You're too dodgy, and you're wearing yourself out way too fast. Take your time and it won't beat you," he said, and sheathed the blades properly where they belonged in their scabbards. "And stop leaving it out of it's sheath, it's bad for the blade."

"I'm trying," she panted breathlessly, and chuckled half-heartedly. "You hit so hard that I have to dodge. I'd be ruined trying to fight you by strength."

"That's just it though," he chided with criticism. "If you'd fight me hard like you should, the pain would stop eventually, and those spongy little armlets of yours would toughen up and get better at what they're supposed to be doing. Tomorrow, I'm going to fight you, and you're going to handle me properly." He rose to his feet, and held out his hand. "Come on, we should head to the dining hall. We need our pouches for the day. Especially in the sun, and especially after I thrashed you so hard today."

Seyla glowered at him for his smart remark, grabbed his hand, and rose to her feet to reluctantly follow him.
 
"About time ye got 'ere," the cook said giving him a look that bespoke his annoyance. The man was rather skinny for a cook, but at a closer look one would notice the thick sinewy muscles under his skinny arms and his hard, calloused hands. A man from the Fahiran deserts who found his way to the Black Swords and became their cook once his strange powers drove him on the brink of madness, or so the rumors said about him.

"Apologies, Zelizan," Luther said with an apologetic smile placing the sack of items on the floor and helping the cook with placing the various vegetables and supplies in their designated places. Once he was done with that he took a seat on a bench and watched as Zelizan began preparing breakfast.

"Aye, the Grand Commander wanted to see ya," Zelizan said idly as he chopped some onions. "Somethin' about an important mission of some sort. And he wants those damn vampire siblings as well."

"I'll be sure to pass it on," Luther nodded and stood from the bench and made his way out of the dining hall and began walking towards his room and noticed the siblings off in the distance. Forcefully pushing down his resentment and putting on a smile, Luther approached them. "I see you two are hard at work!"
 
Seyla smiled as widely as she could, genuinely proud. "Indeed! Riley told me I'm weaker than sponge, so I've been trying my hand at swinging a sword more often." She pressed a fist jokingly into Riley's shoulder, but retracted it and chuckled awkwardly at his piercing glare afterward.

Riley smiled at him, something of a sense of sarcasm hidden underneath, and flashed both fangs. "Don't we all? It'd be a waste to not put everyone to work, especially in our line of business. Besides, she truly is a disgrace with a sword." Seyla gaped, and clamped her mouth shut to hide her anger. "When this is all said and done, she shouldn't have to rely in tricking gods with silly illusory dragons and fake caverns of gold and jewels."

"That works," she said pointedly and shrugged. "Dragons enjoy hoarding treasure. It's like bait on a fishing hook."
 
"It does, indeed," Luther agreed with Seyla. "I would much rather be fighting a confused and delusional god rather than one fully enraged trying to protect it's own life. Speaking of which, the Grand Commander wishes to see us. Now, I must be off and get ready, I'm sure it wouldn't appropriate to go see our superior in my current state." He nodded at the siblings and made his way to the fifth tower, his boots snapping against the marble under his feet.

Once inside the pentagon shaped tower, he went to his left and entered a door that brought him to the middle of the hall that belonged to the fourth floor and entered the third door to his right. Almost immediately after he set foot into his room he stripped from his dirty trousers and put on a lightly padded one-piece pair of tights and began putting on his mythril armour afterwards, a set of heavy armour that sparkled as though a hundred tiny stars were smelted into it.

It's left pauldron was larger and more significant than the right, crafted to be used with a shield, no doubt, with a pair of lobstered gauntlets that ended with claw like fingers. The piece was crafted for him after he completed his initiation mission as a sort of welcoming gift for not only becoming part of the brotherhood, but also surviving and killing his first god. He admitted freely that the piece was magnificent and he cared for it as if it were his own child, cleaning and polishing it every chance he got. Some even went to say that it looked better than the day he had gotten it; a testament to his obsession.

After putting on the armour he grabbed his amethyst-bladed bastard from it's rack and felt a powerful surge rush through him, as if an angry, emblazed, boar ran through his veins, burning him from the inside, a feeling that made him feel like he drank a half gallon of boiled spiced wine without the drunken effects. The feeling soon died out, fading away while it's fiery claws clung to insides as long as it could. Feeling the power of the gods within him again, it seemed as if the world grew brighter by several hundred folds, like some invisible man came and removed a pair of foggy spectacles from his nose. Luther experienced this every time, and every time it always felt as invigorating. Shaking the feeling off, he clasped a silver cloak around his back, sheathed his sword at his side, and walked out of the tower, his helmet under his arms.

One might ask why he even bothered to put on the armour in the first place as the Grand Commander only wished to speak to him, but it had been a while since he'd been on a mission, and he had a gut feeling a mission would be coming his way once he started speaking with the Grand Commander; after all, he seldom spoke to anyone except when he was handing them a mission or if they were being disciplined, and last he checked he hadn't done anything wrong, so it really only came down to one conclusion.

As he took the first few steps outside, he felt the weight of his armour crushing him and made it a few tons lighter, mentally face-palming himself for not doing it sooner, and began making his way
 
"Well, we better do this first before we head off to eat, Riley. We can't make him wait," Seyla said with a shrug, and then grinned cheekily at her brother. "I guess that means my spongy arms will just have to wait for their protein."

"I'm hoping he gives you a hard mission," Riley said with a serious face and tone, and he frowned at her joking responses. "You really need the practice. Whatever is is he's going to tell us to fight this time, I hope you can handle it. Your illusions are good for distractions, little sister, but one day they will be the end of you when your mana runs out, and the only thing in your hand is a piece of metal."

She was quiet for a long time, and stared at him, speechless. There was no response for that. Illusions did take mana... but not a whole lot, given what she made had no physical manifestation, and therefore was mostly just appearance. There was no way she could explain that to him though. He wouldn't listen. It was bad enough he didn't understand how it worked enough to trust her judgment, and she bit her lip bitterly, keeping herself silent. "One day, I will prove to you that I can handle myself just fine, and I don't need a weapon like yours."

Riley looked at her from the corner of his eyes, and then took her by the arm, heading toward the office shaking his head at her ignorance.
 
Luther walked into the large circular tower, his cloak dragging behind him with a casual hand on his blade. The building had no stairs, unlike all the others, and only had a single door at the far back that opened into the Grand Commander's room, other than that, nothing else was built into the giant structure. Just an empty building, with a large multi-coloured rug in the centre, and in the centre of that was a large wooden table littered with books from the shelves that lined the walls, and dozens of pieces of paper spread around haphazardly. Behind the desk was a man with short blond hair, a thick beard, and a moderate build, with sharp, icy blue eyes that held wisdom far beyond his age.

"Grand Commander," Luther said formerly as he walked in, noticing superior was wearing simple clothing and shining silver cloak of their order. Once he was at an acceptable distance from the table he stopped and stood to attention.

"Welcome, Luther, Riley, Seyla," Jameson said, nodding to each in turn. "We've got reports of a god, that should be fairly familiar to one of you, that's been dealing too harshly with the people, demanding child sacrifices every other year and causing the climate in that region to turn frigid on the years where no children are to be sacrificed among other more... heinous things.

"We've warned this god, or rather goddess, several times with no evident response. For the safety of the people of the Norvarin Kingdom, I want you all to slay Nyltasha; but be careful, as Luther will gladly tell you, she's a fierce one."

Luther couldn't quite believe what he was hearing. Did the Grand Commander just order him to kill the goddess of his people? As part of Black Sword they were required to forsake all the worship of the gods, but this was different, he grew up worshiping Nyltasha, and although he no longer cared for the higher being, he couldn't exactly do what he was asked of, not because he grew up worshiping her, but because he was a northman.

He realized he was put in between a rock and a hard place by his superior. If he went and killed his goddess, the people of the north would disown him and shun him for life, not to mention they would shun his family back home and his father would possibly be stripped of all his titles and lands. But if he didn't, he would be a disgrace to himself foremost, then to his kingdom; they would cause a ruckus asking why they couldn't have the dignity of having a northman kill Nyltasha instead of a foreigner.

Seeing no good way out of this, Luther tensed his jaws and shrugged in defeat. "Very well," he said and stormed out of the building, his smile gone sour and replaced with a deep frown.
 
Seyla watched him go, and noted the hard line of his jaw as he passed. She flicked her eyes to their commander, and bowed lightly. "As you order, sir, so shall we serve." She looked up to Riley, and then they passed from the room. As they traveled back down the hallway, she winced. "Do you think at one point we'll have to kill a god we once knew?"

"Why do you ask?"

"Well, given his response... I'd say he was pretty upset. He's from the north," she added, sympathy welling in the pit of her stomach. The vampires had no gods, not that she'd known anyway. When they were brought here, they were taught by their noble bloodline that it was what was expected of them. They'd been taught from the very beginning that they were expected to worship and pay homage to nothing, and no one but the Black Blades. They'd followed it every day since, understanding that it was just how things were. It wasn't anything she'd ever questioned, or even actually cared to. It simply... was. But the way Seyla looked at it now put it in a new light. If she had worshipped something once, and held it close to her heart at one time, she wouldn't wish to destroy it either. Perhaps why that's why it was never ingrained to them.

Riley nodded quietly, his red eyes softening a little as he nodded. He understood. "It's what we do," he said simply, and looked down at her, feeling her eyes boring into the side of his head. "There isn't much you can do about it, Seyla. Think what the goddess is doing. If you lived there... would you will that?"

"I don't know... Do they want her gone? Or is that just our order commanding us to do away with her?" Riley was silent while he chewed on that thought. It was a good question. If the Order wanted the goddess gone, it was duty. If the northerners themselves wanted her gone... what was it?
 
Luther stood outside the structure, waiting for the vampire twins to arrive. "I suppose you two need to get ready?" He asked once he got sight of them. "I'll head down into the docks and prepare a ship for us." With that he left the two and took flight into the air, allowing the wind pushing against his face to calm him. It took him several minutes to reach the large town south of the Black Towers, and landed a few hundred metres from the docks and began walking the rest of the way, his mind yet racing over the fact that he was just about to practically betray his own people.

As he walked, some of the newer folk around the city began eying him with a mix of wonder and intimidation; it wasn't everyday a man fell out of the sky wearing a full suit of armor that could potentially outshine the sun. However, Luther ignored the masses, his mind convoluted with how things would go down once he got back home. Perhaps the people want her gone, he tried to console himself, but he was quick to remember that no matter how bad things got, the northerners prided themselves in their strength and how they could stand strong against anything. It was a foolish way of thinking, especially when faced by a goddess that would wipe them out sooner or later.

The northman pushed the thoughts aside to ponder over for another time as he approached the harbour master. "We'd like to rent a ship," he said coolly, pushing a few locks of hair from his eyes.

"Anything for the Black Swords," the man said, his thick accent of stressing the vowels indicating he was from Rusvanian Empire. "But we are truly sorry, the last ship left only a few hours ago. Perhaps come back within a fortnight?"

"What? Who took all the ships?" Luther demanded, trying to keep his cool.

"Some nobleman from Cyropheren who came to visit for a few days demanded he takes it. I tried to convince him otherwise, but he did pay quite a sum."

This was ridiculous, Luther sighed to himself. Just how much worse can the day get? Heaving out yet another heavy sigh, Luther sat down on a bench a few yards from the dock master and rubbed his temples in defeat. He would just fly over to his people if it weren't for the fact eh would die from overexerting himself before he even got halfway there. He shrugged internally and leaned back on the bench, trying to boil the ocean water with his angry stare.
 
Seyla walked up behind him, having parted with Riley while he prepared for the travel. She'd had the same plan to bargain for a ship. She smiled wryly, already able to tell that this wasn't going to happen. "What do you want to do? Do you want to ask the captain if we can get a ship headed our way from across the sea, and then have it cross back with us on board? I'm sure sending a bird will do just fine for that. If not that, we could ask if we can travel down the shoreline to the next port city, and see if one of them has a ship."

The massive island was sure to have something close to them in order to go. Seyla contemplated asking Riley what he wanted to do, but he wasn't back yet from packing. She concluded she'd fill him in later. "I personally think we should head to the next port. It'd probably be a day's travel, maybe two, but it would be better than waiting two weeks, or for a bird to fly back with a written message."
 
Luther looked up at Seyla when he heard her voice and forced a smile. After hearing her proposal he gave a shrug and stood, her idea was far better than any he had going though his mind at that moment, and losing a day or two was far better than missing a whole two weeks waiting for a damn ship to return. Luther had also wanted to visit the other cities within the island, but never really got a chance to, and the chance presented itself at that moment.

"I suppose it's better than what I'm currently doing," he said with a light chuckle. "Aye, then. We'll go over to the next port and see if we can find a ship. But what of your brother? I don't see him, is he not coming?"

He hadn't noticed him with Seyla, unless vampires had some strange power he did not known about that allowed them to go invisible, which would explain a lot, though he doubted it. Although, glad he had support of his sworn brother and sister helping him through the quest, he still had his people's prejudice towards vampires, and controlling it around them would prove difficult when things got tough. He still harboured a mistrust for their kind and wasn't all too excited about having to kill his goddess with two vampires that could back stab him at any point, but he'd rather keep that worry to himself. For all he knew, things could turn out great and normal, like any other mission.
 
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