Pegulis, Chapter 2

[ReaperOfFlames]

Ruins Beneath Fissura Pass, Cadetblue

Things seemed to be getting colder than normal, even considering the group was surrounded by ice and snow. It wasn't a large change in temperature, so it wasn't anything that set off alarms for Castigarian, but it was enough for him to take notice of it, though only for a moment. He had other things to worry about right now, specifically finding a way out of here. His breath misted in the air as he continued his slow exploration of the cavern; everything here seemed older than time, preserved by the harsh Pegulian climate and whatever powerful magic that still lingered here. It was truly a moment caught in time, a still shot of the past as if nothing had changed from then till now.

Castigarian stopped for a moment to kneel down and examine a shield on the ground, hoping to perhaps find some sort of bearing on the timeframe they were dealing with here...but finding something more interesting instead. He reached out a hand to pick it up, only to find that it separated into a half as the light layer of snow that had covered it had hidden the fact that it had been split in two. He brought it closer to his face so he could more keenly inspect it; his first thought was that perhaps there had been some sort of battle here and someone with frightening power had done this...but things weren't adding up to that conclusion. A small ring of green tarnish around the edges was enough to tell the hunter that this shield was nothing short of pure bronze, a wholly useless material in the making of a spear considering how soft a metal it was on its own, but then why make a shield of it? An even closer look revealed that however it had come to pass that the shield had been split, the edges were too clean and straight to have been caused by any weapon in the heat of battle...there would have been jagged markings around the sliced area from the force applied.

Putting those pieces together, Castigarian came to the conclusion that this shield had been made for the sole purpose of being destroyed and left here...perhaps as some sort of offering? This, however, was Pegulian territory and those sort of votive rituals were more in the vein of those hailing from Viridos. It gave the large man a lot to think about as he stood back up and continued forward, only to be beset by a smaller forest kin as he was informed that Arcantos had found something big. With no further explanation, Castigarian watched him shuffle off to find the others as he turned back towards the way the Forest Kin had came and followed its tracks to see what all the fuss was about.

As it turned out, the fuss was quite worth making as the minute he stepped into the chamber, his eyes fell upon the giant, frozen visage of an ancient beast of lore...a dragon. "Gods alive..." he muttered under his breath as he restrung his bow around his chest and began to climb up towards where he'd seen Arcantos standing. It wasn't a long climb, but it was enough time for him to think, to think on things such as how such a thing could have gone unnoticed by the scholars of Pegulis for so long and what all of this meant for the caravan that was currently trying to make their way through all of this. He shook those from his mind in order to focus on the task at hand as he finally reached the top of his climb and pulled himself up onto the platform above, taking long strides until he was side by side with Arcantos, his eyes locked on the sarcophagus resting before him. "Th'ins 'ere jus' keep gettin' stranger 'n stranger, eh? Wha' d'ye reckon all this s'fer? Some kinda king's bur'al or somethin' like tha?"

 

[Lord Wraith]

M'VAE DON - TAVARK, blue

aving helped himself to several hearty bowls of the stew while confirming he was indeed alone, M'vae decided it was likely best to move on. Finding a basin of cool water, M'Vae cleaned his wounds before reapplying the bandages and dressing himself. Looking upon his torn jacket in disgust, he none the less slid into it as he hoisted his pack onto his back, grimacing as its weight settled upon his injured shoulder. Securing his bow's quiver on the back of his waist, M'Vae examined the sharpness of each of his blades, using some more of the water to rinse off any remnants of the wolf blood from the night before. Drying the weapons and testing their edges once more, the satisfied hunter tucked them back into their sheaths before exiting the small cabin.

The night wind chilled M'Vae to the bone as he stepped out into the fresh snow. Tavark had been ravaged in recent days, the telling signs of battle were barely hidden by the thick blanket of snow. It had been quite some time since he had come this far into the city, the scars beneath his fur almost seemed to ache as the ghosts began to haunt his mind. His feet easily retraced the steps that had taken nearly six seasons ago, the night he was betrayed and left for dead. The faint smell of smoke caused M'Vae to come to a halt as he looked upon the familiar cabin, the shapes of four men within reflected in the window as the shadows danced along with the crackling flames in the hearth. Crouching down, M'Vae silently moved through the snow, coming up to the house, he peeked into the window as he looked up the familar faces, smiling sadistically at the long jagged scars across the one man's face. Slowly drawing his bow, M'Vae notched an arrow quietly to the string as he drew it back. Listening through the walls and thin glass, M'Vae isolated the voice of the man he wanted alive before jumping back from the wall and loosing the shaft. The crash of glass and final cry of anguish filled the cabin with noise as the men scrambled away from the table. The smell of alcohol as it split onto the ground flooded M'Vae's nostrils as he leaped through the shattered window pane.

Releasing another arrow, he downed another man as he sheathed his bow, removing the broad hunting cleaver from it's resting place as he flourished it in his hand. Storming onwards into the home, M'Vae rounded a corner only for a wooden chair to collided with his chest. Stumbling backwards, he growled in agony as the impact had primarily been delivered to his wounded shoulder. Catching the next blow of the chair with his injured arm, M'Vae grunted as he struggled against the man, but in the end the much bigger Anima won out as he tossed the chair aside before placing a claw hand around the man's neck as M'Vae dragged the man onto his blade. Kicking the lifeless body onto the ground, M'Vae growled as he sniffed the air for his target.

"Where are you Alaisdair? What have you done with her?" The Sabertooth roared barely realizing Alaisdair had gotten behind as he tried to dodge the halbred as the pike tip scraped his side before it ripped into his coat and pinned M'Vae to the wall.

A cold laugh filled the room as Alaisdair paced in front of M'Vae. Walking over to the wall, the man reached up as he removed a long sword from its extravagant plague atop the fire filled hearth.
"My sister is far from here." He answered, giving the blade a swing as M'Vae placed his hands on the halbred, starting to pull it away from the wall.

"You had her raped, beaten and nearly left for dead, you scum!" M'Vae roared as he tossed the halbred to the ground, drawing Godric from his belt, he swung the axe above his head as he charged forward. Alaisdair raised his blade as metal bit into wood, keeping the axe head from falling any further. Standing well over a head taller than Alaisdair, M'Vae growled as he put more force into his weapon, as the man beneath him slowly began to buckle.

"My sister needed to learn what a real man was again, instead of the beast she claimed to love." Alaisdair's voice strained as he summoned all his strength to keep the axe from severing his head from his body. "I had no choice but to have such pain inflicted upon her!" He cried, "She was with your child! I could never allow my family to be tarnished by such filth."

"Where is she now you sickening worm!"

"Where she'll never forgot what it's like to be with a man. A wonderful gentleman came by and offered to nurse her back to health. Said he had a lovely place back in Avarath where she'd be taken care of. He even paid me a tidy sum for her."

M'Vae let out a roar of anguish and rage as he reversed his pull on the axe. Taking a step back, as he allowed Alaisdair to fall forward, M'Vae raised the axe above his head as he swung it down with all the force he could muster. The spray of a warm liquid coated his exposed fur as Alaisdair's head rolled across the floor. With a might heave, M'Vae picked the body off the floor as he walked towards the front door, kicking it open before hosting the body above the door frame as the hunter's did with their freshest trophies.

Slinking away into the night, M'Vae found shelter amongst a log pile before he collapsed to the ground and wept bitterly.

 

[fatalrendezvous]

Ilsa Lisbon ― Ruins Beneath Fissura Pass, Indigo

"It's nice to see you again."

A knowing smirk tugged at one corner of Ilsa's lips as she took the ancient weapon from Vrein's hands, briefly studying the intricate, though foreign, words that appeared to be engraved on its blade. Setting the weapon down, she released it and let the sword fall back against the snow with a soft thud. "It's good to see you too, Vrein. I'm glad you're alive." Her eyes met his, if only for a moment.

Within that moment, pleasant memories flashed by in Ilsa's head, of life as it was before: steady and routine. Simpler. A life where she knew what to expect from the next day, the next week, the next month. She'd bring new Watch recruits to Vrein to have them outfitted, get them proper equipment, then bring the equipment back in when inevitably they eventually yielded to wear, training, and exercise. It wasn't a glamorous life by any means, but it was stable; as sure as the ringing of hammer against anvil. Their convoy had only departed for Barvelle several days ago, and already Ilsa could be sure of nothing. The unpredictability of it all was maddening. Ice golems? Avalanches? The Ghoul Sage? Deep within the hazel hues of her eyes in that moment was a vulnerability, a silent longing that she could undo it all and go back to life as it was.

But the moment was fleeting. Ilsa broke the glance to look at the Forest Kin quickly approaching them.

"Captain Ilsa. You must come see this," the Forest-Kin insisted cautiously.

Exchanging another glance with Vrein, Ilsa nodded to the Forest-Kin, taking in a deep a breath as if to remind herself of her responsibility. She and Vrein followed quickly, the sound of their boots crunching in the snow alerting several other exploring parties and causing them to follow. It wasn't long before they reached the inner chambers, and Ilsa's feet shuffled to a stop, as well as the boots of each of the others following behind.

The chambers emanated an uncomfortable calm. With the towering stone statues prior in the caverns still fresh in her memory, Ilsa took in the sight of this enormous ice sculpture dragon before them. Questions raced through her mind, more quickly than she could find answers for.

Willing herself to continue moving forward, she followed Castigarian up the climb, followed closely behind by Vrein and several others daring enough to follow. Reaching the perch, she stood next to Castigarian, shaking her head at his question as she stared up at the ice dragon's vicious maw. "I've no idea..."

Her eyes drifted down before settling on the sarcophagus before them, at the base of the dragon's neck. She approached it warily, examining it at the same time. Entombed in the sarcophagus were skeletal remains, twice the size of a large man and perhaps thrice the size of an average person. Embellished around the sarcophagus were numerous runes of what appeared to be different languages; some she recognized, but the vast majority of them were unfamiliar.

Now standing next to the sarcophagus, Ilsa crouched down to examine it more closely. Near each of the corners of its walls were small, raised hexagonal panels, engraved with different glyphs. The engravings spread out, sometimes in strict, patterned linear grooves, others more organically flowing across the body of the tomb.

Ilsa reached out, sliding her hand across the intricate engravings, when her hand brushed against the hexagon panel. To her surprise, the glyph began to pulsate with a soft blue glow, and the hexagonal switch sank into the sarcophagus with an audible click. The glow seeped through the grooves like some kind of liquid, inching closer to the other switches before flickering and disappearing; when it did, the switch clicked back out into its original resting state.

Standing up, she waved towards Arcantos, Castigarian and Vrein to come. There were four switches, one on each corner of the sarcophagus, and there were four of them. They approached, albeit cautiously. "We press on three. Ready? One, two..."

"Three." They pressed, the same soft glow emanating from each of the glyphs, spreading through the grooves in the sarcophagus, reaching for each other as the strange magical light desperately tried to connect in a full circuit. Slowly, in a matter of minutes that felt like days, the glow fully encircled the granite tomb. Faintly, the sound of gears cranking became apparent within as an ancient magic stirred. Despite being in a mostly enclosed cavern, winds howled. Something whirred. Slowly at first, then menacingly increasing in volume and pitch, until the noise was almost unbearable. The members of the caravan braced for the worst, faces grimacing and contorted with the pain of the noise, barely stifled by gloves over ears.

Then it dissipated into silence. Dazed and confused, the members of the caravan all looked at each other, as if to question whether they had all experienced the same thing, only to be rocked to their hands and knees by a sensory explosion. The sarcophagus emitted a light so bright that it was deafening; a ringing so loud it was blinding. Beneath it all was a booming, deep basso voice that was not heard, but rather felt:

म तपाईंलाई यो प्राप्त समय सम्म मरिसकेको हुनेछ। यो चिसो चिहानमा गाडे।

हाम्रो कुञ्जीहरू अहिले पनि अस्तित्वमा। जाओ र तिनीहरूलाई पत्ता। तिनीहरूले ढोका खोल्न हुनेछ। तर खतराबारे होसियार हुनुहोस्। चाबी वाहकहरु अक्सर पागल जाने। चाबियाँ समाधान छैनन्। तिनीहरूले उपकरण हो। तिनीहरूले समाधान बनाउन सक्छ। अथवा तिनीहरू दैवीप्रकोप सिर्जना गर्न सक्नुहुन्छ।

एकता तपाईं यस ज्ञान प्राप्त कसरी छ। एकजुट, र तपाईं कुञ्जी प्राप्त हुनेछ। एकता तपाईं कुञ्जी राख्नुपर्छ छ। तिमी यो गर्न चाहनुहुन्छ भने, तपाईं जानुपर्छ ...​

A soft chime tone abruptly quieted the voice, stopped the ringing, quelled the light. But the tone was softer, quieter, closer; unlike any noise the sarcophagus had made before.

It came from Castigarian's pocket.

His red facial hair was suddenly whipped into his face as the glowing winds began to swirl and encircle him, before rushing into his pocket with so much force it seemed like the pocket itself might tear loose. The winds quickly died and silence filled the chambers as all eyes in the room looked to Castigarian.

The marble in his pocket rattled gently and let off another soft, content chime. If Ilsa didn't know any better, it almost... sounded like a belch.

 

[E.T.]

Talk that night had been interesting if odd, once again Caoimhe had been struck by just how strange the lands outside of snowy realm were. The conversation was almost los upon her when Glyph told them that they could be severely punished if they hunted and killed in these strange lands. Did they stop the falcon, the wolf, the cat, from hunting because they wished to see no lower creatures killed. For her to hunt was to accept death, either you would hunt and kill and survive, or you would die either from injury or starvation. And when you died the earth would in turn swallow your body, the only disruption was if there was needless slaughter, the whole and little care for the one.

But she did not let it bother her for very long, there was food to be eaten and the night was clear of the storms that had plagued them for much of their travels.

________________________________________​

Morning came early on frightened wings. A Light sleep was part of her inheritance from the wolves and Caoimhe jolted awake as the first birds flew by, screaming their displeasure at the heavens. Never in all her days had she seen so many birds rising together, not even when she used to sneak into the mountain rookery to steal eggs sending the parents reeling into the sky. The very sight set her on edge, all she could think was that some giant predator was lurking off in the distance. She could not think of anything else that could possibly scare such a large number of birds all at once.

Shardis and Aerie were quick to join her in watching and for a long while they just stared into the churning sky. It was as though a storm tossed sea had been lifted from its cradle and affixed above their heads. Well apparently whoever had been given such a great task had stretched it far to tight letting the blue sky emerge from the holes. It was not long before Medwick was also awake and their party had to break camp. But even then there were several long moments were she remained in that same crouched position, watching the sky with the same intensity as a dog watching a butcher wield a knife in one hand and a steak in the other.

With a shake that could have almost been mistaken for a shiver Caoimhe busied herself with the task of saddling up her own mount. The birds were long gone by the time they were ready to move but the memory of their shrieking calls still unsettled the wild woman enough that she choose to walk rather than ride. Securing her bag to the pony's back she tied back the reins so that they would not drag. Between Medwick's plow horse, Glyph's mule, and her own pony the pace was not bad, they could not afford to push their mounts to much, there was no telling for how much longer they would need them.

When the sea finally appeared as they crested the top of the hill Caoimhe was fascinated. On a clear day the edge of the Kaikas could be seen but this, this body of water was far vaster than anything she had ever encountered. Like a river it was in constant motion, the edge surging forward before receding back, and yet beneath the gentle swells it was still. When they reached the bottom she shocked to see so much sand stretching from the bottom the hill to where the water broke. There were many smaller pools around and wandering a bit away from the group she knelt near one and cupping her hands she brought some of the water to her lips. The next moment she gagged as she furiously spit the water back out. Salty, it was salty. Why was it salty? Treating the small pool to a indifferent snort she moved off again heading towards the waters edge.

As she neared the edge an object caught her attention, a brightly colored shell lying half in and half out of the sand she crouched down to gently pull it from its resting place. However as she did so a crab scuttled out from under the shell and she jumped back in surprise. Fascinated she watched as it moved sideways across the sand, stalking it until she built up enough courage she reached out a hand to swipe at the small creature. There was a yelp as the crab latched onto her hand holding on until it was shook free. Furious Caoimhe pounced forward shifting her weight forward to pin the creature to the sand. Hearing a crack she removed her hands to find that she had crushed the poor critter. With a mixed expression of surprise and concern she nudged at one of the splayed legs before glancing back at the group and then back at the crab. After a few long moments she gently pried the crab from the sand before heading back over to where the shell was.

Upon returning to the group she held her hand out to Glyph, palm up with the dead crab nestled in the center.

"I...It's...hmm" She said the last sound a soft whine. There was a confused tilt to her head, she had zero ideas as to what she was supposed to do with this strange creature and, while she suspected that some of it was not true, there was a part of her that was worried that she had just broken one of those stupid hunting rules Grandfather had spoke of.

 

[Asmodeus]

Arcantos shifted, uncurling from an all-fours position. Like a chameleon he had clung to the ground as the light flared, as the voice boomed. Snow and ice-flakes rained in the wake of the event. He stood slowly, and craned his head low to peer at Castagarian.

"We leav' now."

The words were hissed lowly, a prelude to sudden action. The Draken pushed past Ilsa, crossed to the edge of the icy headland, yelled down to the main group. "Ropes! Bringgg ropes. We climb outtt now!"

The Draken arched back and stuck his tongue towards the fissures in the cavern ceiling, where daylight came in shafts. "Pitonssss, grapp'l-hookss! We climb."

The others still stirred from their shock. Some had fallen to their knees. Some had triggered Advents of protection. Some had lost their Aux to panicked circling. When their response was not immediate Arcantos clanged his swords together and shouted louder.

"DO AS S'I SAYYY! WE LEAV' NOW!"

Behind the Draken, his white dragon aux remained curled up. Its stillness was at odds with the panic in Arcantos.

"ROPES. NOW!"

 

[fatalrendezvous]

Karissa Lisbon ― Aldus, Royalblue

Karissa fled from the school fields, chased away by the shouts and the laughter of boys teasing her. She knew it was wrong to leave during teaching hours, but her schoolmates were being intolerable. They blamed her mother for causing their parents not to come home, and they took it out on her. Likely because they'd heard it from their own parents, or they'd heard it from their friends who had in turn heard it from their parents anyway. They never thought for themselves. They said it was Ilsa's fault their parents would die, Ilsa's fault that Ilsa herself would die.

But they were wrong; her mother was alive, and she knew it. She felt it. How could the boys be so cruel? She suffered with them, not against them. Perhaps, Karissa thought, perhaps they just weren't as familiar with loss as she was.

As she ran off the school grounds and into the busy town square, her Aux, Fina, a small white snow leopard cub with black spots, tailed closely behind. Tears rolled off Karissa's cheeks, spotting her clothes and disappearing into the snow on the ground. She and the snow leopard cub vanished into the crowd, navigating the moving forest made up of the legs and feet of shoppers and gossipers.

She found herself before the Aldus Council building, staring up at the doors as she wiped the tears from her face with her coat sleeve, her Aux circling itself between and around her legs in anxiety. Fists clenched in determination, Karissa pressed forward into the council building, wandering its expansive interior; she'd been by the building before, but never inside. Fortunately, it wasn't long before she noticed a man in the halls whom she recognized as the Mayor, talking with another councilwoman.

Cheeks still flushed from crying, the girl approached them. Their conversation gradually quieted as they noticed the girl's presence, and Mayor Valeckis turned and knelt down to look at Karissa.

"Well, good afternoon, young one. Shouldn't you be at home? The Council Halls aren't very interesting for children your age. In fact, they're not even very interesting for folks our age," he quipped, sharing a chuckle with his colleague before looking back at Karissa. "Now what can we help you with, youngling? What's your name? Are you lost?"

"I am Karissa, daughter of Callen and Ilsa Lisbon, of Aldus," the girl recited, a script she'd been taught hundreds of times already. On the mention of her name, the smiles evaporated from the adults' faces, replaced with concern.

The mayor straightened. "Ah, the Lisbon daughter. What can we help you wi--"

"Can we find my mother?" Karissa interrupted anxiously. "And the others we haven't heard from?"

When she realized she had just interrupted the Mayor of Aldus, she immediately withdrew and clasped her hands in front of her, her head hanging in embarrassment. "I'm sorry for interrupting."

The Mayor, unoffended and clearly impressed by the girl's mature behavior for so young, managed to crack a smile again as he reassuringly placed a hand on her shoulder. "We have sent scouts already. Once we hear anything, we will let your family know. Some survivors have already made their way home, so I'm sure your mother should not be far behind. Now, run along and get back home."

Karissa nodded, but was unsatisfied with that answer. Knowing she wouldn't get more out the adults though, she sighed and thanked them, bowing graciously. "I'm not going home, I'm going back to school," she said as she left.

The Mayor looked at his colleague quizzically. "Ser Ilsa sends her daughter to school?"

The councilwoman shrugged, offering the mayor a knowing smile. "Would you expect any less from the Captain of the Guard? She doesn't stay at home to cook and clean, why would she expect her daughter to?"

 

[PigIron]

Proditius - Fissura caverns, lightblue

Proditius looked upon the magical field of light and knowledge as a hungry wolf looks upon a freshly stuck pig carcass. The construct mindlessly slurped it up, devouring the magic before it had a chance to uncoil and slither into the minds of the party, almost shaking with contentment as he regained an almost impossibly large amount of magic from the old spell.
It took all of a second for the golem to realise that it had made a mistake; Proditius shook with confusion and surprise as a ring of runes inside the oversized marble stretched and snapped, colouring himself with the black ice of dismay as others stretched inside him and unraveled.
A haze in proditius' mind, one that he had never even noticed before now, cleared. Thoughts exploded back and forth. The emotions, kept so far under control, unfurled like bears rising from a long winter's hibernation, grumpy and ragged, thumping about and generally making a mess of things.
Proditius' first free thought was that of confusion. "W-What?" Came a slow murmur from Castigarian's pocket.
Proditius' second free thought was that of excitement "I-I'm... Free?" Came a stuttering whisper.
Proditius paused, his thoughts stewing in his mind: Wondering how he gained this new found freedom from the ghoul sage's magic, Wondering where he came from, Regretting the awful things he had done, and finally, reflecting on what to do next.

Castigarian's pocket froze and inside the dark ice surrounding the orb shattered, shredding apart the cloth prison and freeing Proditius' heart. Around the party, snow whirled up and was sucked in in a sudden implosion of frigid aura. Castigarian found himself in the middle of a maelstrom of motes of magic and crystals of ice. In front of him, the marble floated, shining like a star, magic flowing from it in palpable waves, just within reach...

 

[guygombaa]

SIRIS - BARVELLE, purple

A few seconds after Coul finishs, Siris speaks. "Fair enough I suppose." He decides to keep to himself with his thoughts on the bodyguard and Coul's command, not that he would have particularly argued with his choices. No point in starting battles within Pegulis.

It wasn't that he hated Coul any, but the man was arrogant, despite his years. A smile crept upon Siris lips as he realized that Coul probably thought he too was arrogant. And he was probably right, too. AH!, But the matter at hand. "I'll need one or two men who can ride, a week's worth of bread and butter, canteens, and four heat crystals for each."

"Once I have these provisions, I can leave immediately, lady Archon."

 

[Ai]

Vrein Bealithar - The Ruins Beneath Fissura Pass, #285bd2

Vrein watched Ilsa's familiar smirk fade from her features, revealing a sense of fragility in her that he'd never seen in her before. Entranced by the nostalgia of Ilsa's fleeting gaze, he met her with kind eyes as he stood, perplexed by her distress. But the distraction only lasted so long; reality finally sank itself back into motion, as they both turned to address the unrelenting calls of the Forest-kin. Lingering, their eyes met once more before their journey ensued; once more he gave her a gentle smile.

Fatigue plagued Vrein's mind, as images of dancing shadows played across his peripherals, encroaching on his paranoia. 'Why the urgency?' he eyed the Forest-kin questioningly.

What felt like moments ago, valiant people- No… friends, had died to the treacherous crumbling of the snow, yet they still pressed onward. Gritting his teeth, Vrein felt hot anger rise through his body. This was why he refused to join the militia; he refused to treat the people he cared about like that. Burdened by the heavy loss of his fallen comrade, he grudgingly stepped forth unto the large altar.

Scanning his eyes across the eerie structure, he finally noticed the sarcophagus that had become the center of everyone's attention. Curiosity took its hold as he felt the urge to peer downward, only to find an over sized strange skeleton surrounded by foreign markings. Shooting Ilsa an uncertain look, he took one of the corners; assisting to lift the case of the ancient tomb.

All of a sudden a shrill whaling of howling wind made Vrein fall to his knees, the sound ringing through his ears as it bounced off the walls. Ardently, he fought against the pain that burned through his body, until a moment of salvation finally came, the sound of silence.

A strange warm, wet sensation rested against his cheek, easing him out of a daze when he realized Ion was licking his face. "What are you doing?" he pushed the polar bear's jaw away from him. "Pay attention." It replied with a low growl, starring up toward Arcantos. Swine, you do know something we don't.

Rampant with fury, adrenaline finally kicked in. Rising, Vrein purposefully walked toward the Lizard. Having finally been pushed over the edge, he directed a strong hand to grab Arcantos' scaly neck "What are you playing at?" he roared, glaring at the stranger with raging dark eyes.

 

[Diana]

BARVELLE: THE ARCHON'S CHAMBERS, royalblue

Eirene's first thought was to protest that she needed no guardian to protect her, whether he was hired by her stewards or a trusted old friend. She wasn't impressed by Wolfin's flowery introduction, and it took a great deal of restraint to refrain from rolling her eyes and shooting the elderly steward a dark glare for her choice.

The woman cleared her throat even louder, taking introductions and explanations in to her own hands. "Wolfsin Silvermoon is reputed for his skill of sword mastery. Where magic wains, a sword will never fail. Sir, you will be the protector of our Lady Eirene, Archon of Pegulis, tamer of the Wild Winters. Though I am sure Master Coul would be the top choice for her lady's safety, in this The Tower feels someone younger-"

"It seems the Tower believes you are a useless old man, Coul." Eirene commented with amusement. "I hope giving you the care of all Barvelle wasn't a mistake, if you're not trusted to protect me, I can't imagine the peril our city will be in when your brittle old bones are broken in the first fight." It wasn't kind of her to tease the elder woman, but it did bring a wicked satisfaction when her wrinkled face flushed red and she sputtered to protest.

The white wolf aux, still lying at the foot of Eirene's bed, was now thumping it's tail weakly on the mattress.

Eirene turned her focus back to the real problem at hand. "We shall kill two birds with one stone. Ethelwen," she made no comment about him being late or his apologies, merely gestured to the anima to come closer. "You will write the bulletins and post them across the city. Make sure that all volunteering parties are sent straight to our General. From there, Coul, I'm sure you will find someone capable enough to send with Siris."

Sighing heavily, she finally stole a glance at her new personal keeper. "As for you..." Eirene entertained thoughts of sending Wolfsin Silvermoon away with Siris, but she knew The Tower would just replace him with another. "If you are not trouble for me, then I will consider," she stated very pointedly at her steward, "keeping a personal guard. For now."

Eirene was suddenly feeling tired, and it showed across her pale features. A short conversation shouldn't take so much from her, and her frustration with the situation returned. She ignored it and pressed on. "If there are no further questions or requests... Ethelwen, return to me as soon as every bulletin has been posted. And I would like word from you, Coul, once Siris and his party have left Barvelle. You may all go."

 

[PigIron]

Proditius - Closing post, lightblue

As Proditius gathered up energy to form a body, he realised something had... changed.
The ice fell to the cavern floor. The growing magic left him. There was a panicked moment in which Proditius struggled to regain his form-
And then the orb holding him broke.
Where the orb once was stood an aux. It was a light blue winter fox, panting and looking around with an incorporeal confusion.
The old magic had freed Proditius. It had broken the magical chains holding it to it's orders, and had let it go free.
The little fox turned to Castigarian, bowing a little bow, and spat up the information the old spell had been trying to convey, implanting it in Castigarian's mind. Then, in a flash, Proditius ran on his familiar legs like a bolt of blue-white lightning, leaping up and flying from the cavern, out one of the holes in it's ceiling.


Proditius didn't know how the magic had done it, but it had.
At long last, he was free.

 

[Peregrine]

ETHELWEN-BARVELLE, royalblue

Ethelwen stood quietly in the back of the room, his hands clasped neatly behind his back. There was a drop of water on the inside of his ear, and he longed to shake his head to get it out. He quickly reminded himself, however, that he was in polite company, and it would not be good to splash anyone or anything important with the tiny beads of water that still clung to his fur. He watched everyone in the room attentively, but most of his attention was on Wolfsin. This was the man who was going to be guarding the Archon? A stab of something between jealousy and anger bit through him, and he felt his claws suddenly dig into the softer skin on his wrist. However, he repressed the swell of emotions quickly enough, and when the Archon began talking again he quickly turned his attention back to her.

As soon as she said his name he stepped forward eagerly, happily settling in beside her. He listened attentively to her request, before nodding his head, murmuring a soft, "Yes, my lady." He stepped back from her bed, his mind already running wild. Coul had said "morale-boosting language." He could do that. And it would be nearly as much of a treat to get an opportunity to explore more of Barvelle. He knew many of the outskirt passages very well, as that was where some of his more disgusting work took him, but spreading the posters would give him a chance to familiarize himself residential and market areas he didn't normally visit. He looked forward to the task eagerly.

When they were dismissed he allowed Siris and Coul to depart before him. However, he had only taken a couple of steps outside of the Archon's chamber when another thought struck him. He sped off down the corridor, quickly catching up to the retired general. "Sir?" he asked politely, before addressing the concern that had struck him. "The Archon said to send potential recruits to you, but where should I say you will be? And would you like to review the bulletin before I spread them over the city?"

 

[Torsty]

Mahavir was standing next to his horse. Outside in the freezing wind waiting for his guide to finish his morning ritual. They stayed the night at a local tavern, out in nowhere just north of Lake Kaikas.

They had been travelling for weeks through Pegulis keeping a low profile. Mahavir Tiwari was here on unofficial business on the behalf of Avaraths mayor, Gulzar Ganguly.

Find Barvelle, the secret city, and arrange a meeting with the Northern Archon. That was his mission.

The risks were high, so was his reward were he to succeed. A promotion that would keep him away from dangerous adventures such as this and closer to his wife and two daughters back home.

He did not like Pegulis. The weather was cold and harsh, and so were the people. Nothing like the way the mayor had described them.

His guide attracted people with a similar hobby of his – drinking. His morning ritual? Drinking.

"COME ON YOU DRUNK FUCK! LETS GO ALREADY!" Mahavirs cry was of no use. The strong wind silenced his frustration.

The guide almost stumbled in the snow as he exited the tavern, stinking of rotgut and sweat. Àrni should have retired by now, but he had his alcoholism that always kept him going. A Pegulian himself who had emigrated to Avarath years ago to find his luck. Seeing him like this presumed that he had not achieved it.

"Not many days left before we're there, sir." He said as he climbed onto his horse wildly, lucky not to get a kick in the gut from his steed while doing so.

Mahavir grunted as a reply, they moved on into the blindingly white landscape.

 

[Asmodeus]

The snow whirl conspired with the shockwave of Proditius's release. Arcantos was dazed. He did not see Vrein coming. Anger and shock collided as the Draken was pushed to the edge of the ice ledge, his throat seized by the blacksmith's hand.

No... not his throat. For where Vrein was expecting scale and muscle, he found only dissolution. As if no more than a phantom, the body broke in Vrein's grip, a frail dermal layer giving way to blood and sodden tissue. The Draken's head fell back, the throat splitting, the mouth gaping wide to spill out tongue and gums in a gory collapse. Arcantos bent double till his spine was snapped, and his heaving chest burst open. Vrein's arms were coiled in entrails and whipping veins, and the arms that gripped him were twisted bone.

​

Screams cut through the expedition, torches dropped and weapons drew. Some turned and fled. Aux whimpered. The cries found answer in a chittering, tearing groan that cut from Arcantos's ruptured lungs. His ribcage was opening, the bones snapping off in jagged teeth that sought only to devour the blacksmith. Arteries whipped around Vrein's shoulders, neck and head, and pulled him toward the bloody darkness.

Down below, near the base of the statue, the illusion of Arcantos's dragon Aux fell apart into ice crystals. The creature's moan was sickening and loud...

"किल्ल मे"​

 

[ReaperOfFlames]

Castigarian - Ruins Beneath Fissura Pass, Cadetblue

To say that Castigarian had some concerns about fiddling with ancient magics that were beyond his understanding was a bit of an understatement; the large man for the first time since he'd woken up in this ice cavern let a look of deep concern play across his features. However, he remained silent about his reservations. If there was any chance they could learn something from this contraption, no matter how slim that chance was...wasn't it worth the risks? He paused for only a few moments, contemplating and weighing the potential risks against the rewards before he stepped forward with a nod and placed his hand atop the rune carved stone he was pointed towards.

After a short count, the four pressed their individual stones and at first, nothing happened. The hunter stpped back from the machine and placed a hand pensively against his bearded chin, stroking the long, amber strands of hair in thought as he stared at the sarcophagus.
"Per'aps t'thing's too old y'think? 'S been down 'ere gods only know how long...maybe 's power source's all drawn. Was worth'a try tho..." he said, more to himself than anyone else before he was abruptly silenced by the sudden sounds of activity from the ancient machine.

What started as the grating sound of rusted gears and worn metal grinding against one another turned into a deafening roar of wind as Castigarian was pushed backwards by an unknown force stronger than anything he'd ever known. No matter how hard he clasped his hands against his ears, the sound shot straight through to his very core, shaking the hunter to his knees as he felt himself began to shake violently. The magic in the air came to a violent crescendo as the large man was lifted from his kneeling position as if an invisible giant had taken hold of him and his eyes began to flicker wildly around the room. Inside of him, he could feel not his blood, but his bloodline flowing like white hot metal through his veins. Years of ancestral knowledge gained and forgotten in a blink of time that felt like an eternity as Castigarian lived through not only the eyes of his family line, but those of his Pegulian ancestors. He knew everything, but at the same time could recall nothing; everything was and was not in the same fold of time.

Eventually whatever magic had a hold of him freed the hunter from its grasp as he hit the floor on his hands and knees, his gloved fingers digging hard into the small layer of ice dust that had accumulated on the floor around him; his eyes wide and searching as he stared intently at the floor beneath him. His breath came sharp and ragged, as if he had only just remembered the function and his entire body shook with the same frailty as a newborn babe as he slowly came back to the reality he occupied. As his mind began to piece itself back together, he vaguely recalled seeing a small fox in front of him, imparting knowledge of something unknown to him, though all he could recall from his ordeal was something to the effect of their being keys and that they weren't necessarily a solution to a problem.

Castigarian shook his head slowly as he finally managed to work his way back up to his feet, taking note that he'd actually been back a good deal from where the sarcophagus was during the whole event. With his senses back about him, he could finally make out the noises in the background around him...someone was shouting in a panicked tone...Arcantos? Why was he so afraid...and then it was cut short by an explosion of anger, causing the hunter to turn on his heel in time to see the young blacksmith take the lizard man by the throat as he demanded answers.

Were it so easy, Castigarian would have moved forward to call a truce between the two, to settle the tension enough that they could focus on their next course of action at the very least; but then again, when had anything on this expedition been quite that easy? No sooner had he raised a hand to begin speaking, did Arcantos began to act oddly. First he began to jerk, subtly at first, but soon his twitches became violent and erratic as his skin and scales began to melt away from his muscles. To Castigarian's horror, the Draken began to twist and contort into an abomination so foul even he found himself hard pressed to keep his eyes locked on the creature. Perhaps on instinct, he drew his bow back and quickly nocked an arrow as he began to quickly move forward, the blacksmith now in danger as what used to be Arcantos began to draw the struggling man into its newly formed gaping maw.

Closing his left eye, Castigarian took long, steady steps as he drew his shoulder back and his bowstring along with it, holding it until string began to quiver before loosing the arrow. The shot flew past the blacksmith's right ear, the hawk feathers fitted on the end for stability tickling his ear lobe as the projectile found its mark in the center of the creature's face, causing it to release its captive with a pained roar. The second arrow skimmed the top of the smith's head as he fell, the tip of the arrow parting some of his hair before passing harmlessly above and planting itself firmly in the creatures chest where its new mouth now lay. With the power put behind the shot and the less than solid ground beneath his feet, the creature had only time enough to let out one final roar before its feet slipped on the ice and it was sent plummeting backwards off the ledge onto the hard ice floor below with a sickening thud.

The hunter let loose a small exhalation of air, his breath having been held for both shots to ensure their steady aim as he lowered his bow, the threat now gone...or so he hoped. Thinking on that, Castigarian moved quickly towards the smith who sat besides the edge of the ledge and placed a large hand on his shoulder as he helped the man back up to his feet, his gaze casting itself around wearily as he scanned for anything...or anyone who might suddenly become a threat. "Les getcha 'way from this edge 'ere, eh? Y'ain't hurt none, are ya?" he said, his eyes looking over the edge of the ice at the creature below; it wasn't moving...but that didn't mean it was safe to ignore just yet.

 

[Tegan]

Glyph's response to the offered crustacean was as an upturned nose and a grunt of disgust. Usually, the skinny old bard accepted gifts of food graciously and readily. "Dreck! Unclean for Vilda Chaya to eat." With great care, he plucked the crab from the wolf girl's palm and tossed it towards a flock of squawking gulls. "Gey gezunterheyt..."
Quill's tiny head appeared from within Glyph's robes, whispering to Caoimhe. "This zhlub doesn't eat anything that eats its own shit and yentzs its own mother."

Glyph shook his head at Caoimhe, muttered something, before urging his mule onward. "Come along my friends! We journey into the mouth of madness!" He sang as he rode along, more cheerful at these lower altitudes.

 

[Asmodeus]

Meister Suvius shut the door of the Alchemist's chamber and shook his head. There was no reasoning with the Northern Archon. Never had been. She had refused a second cup of sage tea, just as she had refused every magical infusion in the eighteen winters he had known her. From the day that little girl had walked into the village of Tatewurth and proposed an alliance with the village of Undergrith, she had been nothing but a stubborn girl, too concerned with nation-building to think about her nutrition. The foolishness of youth! In the Meister's day little girls had paid attention to their elders and drunk their tea when they were told. And that was before the sage grew properly. Back then they didn't have the fancy tea, and the water wasn't as hot. Not like now, with the fangle-dangled water boiling systems. The Archon didn't even know what she was missing, turning her nose up at something that Suvius would have killed for back in his day.

The old man muttered as he crossed the room, brown robes dragging the dusty floor. He wiped a speck of dirt from the tower window and squinted through it. There was another storm over Lake Kaikas, and the Norsigal Mountains were steeped in mist. Down below, the blood of the great white dragon had soaked into the frozen planes where Barvelle's brave defenders had slain it. The carcass was now completely gone. The beast had been dissected and stored in the vaults of Barvelle.

Well... most of the dragon. Suvius had heard talk of a theft. Some of the dragon eggs from the belly of the beast had gone missing, and foul magics were suspected. The other sages were in uproar. But those young seventy year-old wizards had only themselves to blame, in Suvius's opinion. They didn't know what they were d--

The old man paused, suddenly remembering that he had left his guest in this room. "Aah..." He turned to Sir Darin, who had been sitting at one of the desks with a bowl of stew. "All's well, my boy. The Archon is healing splendidly." He hobbled over to the paladin and patted him on the shoulder. "Thank the gods you were here, Master Knight. She might not have woken from that coma without your magics." He moved around to the other side of the desk. "And don't worry, my boy, I'll let her know who to thank. Once she starts listening to me, that is. You young pups never stop dashing for one minute, do you? In my day there was value placed on stillness. Ice endures, as the saying goes. And well, I..."

He trailed off and forgot what his point was. Then he noticed the other chair and slowly, shakily, lowered himself into it. Across a mess of potion bottles, old books and stuffed owls, Meister Suvius eyed Darin and took in the details of his face.

"Such rumours I've heard, my boy, such rumours. They say you are a Paladin. One of the last. Tell me about your order, would you?"

He pushed a lukewarm cup of sage tea towards the healer.

 

[4everDifferent]

Darin spooned himself some of the stew into his maw. It didn't matter that it was not the best he had ever eaten, it didn't even matter that it had begun to lose its heat. He had worked up quite the appetite with all the healing that he had been doing. Any coin he had been given in thanks was used either to find a room or buy what little bread he could. Even then, he found himself giving the bread away. Telra would scold him. It made his weary face smile just to think of it. She would praise him for having such a big heart just moments before telling him it would do him no good if he died because of it. She was always the balance to his compassion with reason.

The paladin and his Aux had been leaving the city to find another that could use his services when news of the Archon's coma had reached him. Usually one more illness would have Telra urging him to move on to the next town where there were more who needed him, that he had done enough here and the healers could handle the others. But Telra agreed that waiting just a bit longer, for the Archon's sake, was the best move. Two days passed and still there was no change in the leader's condition. So Darin offered his services.

When he had finally been permitted to see the young Archon, he immediately knew there was only one thing he could do to save her. He would have to perform an Advent. He hated doing so, as it always drained Telra until the next day. It was the warmth of her light as she graced the top of his hand that settled it. Telra knew the importance the Archon was to the nation and to be without their young leader would leave them in disarray and vulnerable.

Darin had begun to heal the Archon, his hands hovering on both sides of her head. A faint yellow aura surrounded his hands and when Telra moved to his chest, he could feel her gift pour through him and into the Archon. When he had finished, the Archon still slept, but the taint had been driven away. Her injuries, were repaired. He left the Archon in the care of her people, joining Meister Suvius. It was his stew Darin had been eating while the Meister had been summoned when the Archon awoke later that day.

The old man reentered the room and seemed to go about his own routine before he remembered Darin was there. The late attention was fine to the young Paladin. He was more worried about Telra than he was for any thanks. Though he knew his Aux would be fine as time progressed, her dimmed light and mood always bothered him. His head hurt ever so slightly. Thanks to Telra's sacrifice, it was not as bad as it would have been.

When the Meister sat down across from him and asked about his order, Darin's mood lightened. He was always proud to speak of the order, despite supposedly being its last living Paladin. He pulled his helmet from the table and set it on the ground beside his chair. His gauntleted hand wrapped around the cup that was slid before him, while his other passed through his short messy brown hair.

"Grandmaster Orden called on a handful of valiant knights with the purest of hearts to study with him on how to harness the Light to be the protectors they felt they ought to be. It was the Grandmaster that was the first to harness the light within the order to restore the injured and sick. He passed this knowledge on to others who in turn did the same. We pride ourselves in aiding others wether with healing or with the sword."

Darin took a drink of his tea and smiled as the liquid poured down his throat. Telra rose into the air and moved to his shoulder where she kept her watchful eye on the old man, "My wife had been murdered, and in my absence, my order was butchered. As far as I know, I'm the only one left." He didn't bother telling the old man that he felt guilty. Both his wife and his order had been murdered. He suffered from a severe case of survivor's guilt which served as his motivation to do everything he did. He had to atone.

Telra moved up his shoulder in a gesture of comfort and Darin shrugged in thanks, "So the Archon is fine?" He was void of surprise, knowing he had healed her, but he needed to change the subject. Speaking of the loss in his life never did anything but put him in a foul mood. He finished his tea and folded his hands together on the table in front of him without disturbing any of vials and bottles, "These are dark days. Without her light and guidance, Pegulis would be in trouble."

 

[Asmodeus]

It were as if the words had cast enchantment. Sir Darin unveiled his story, and with each second Meister Suvius grew quieter and stiller. By the end he was pale, and the tremors in his fingers and lips were no longer marks of age, but heralds of despair.

He was stirred by Darin's question. "Hmm? Oh yes, she's fine. I just...." He trailed off, and in that moment Darin knew that any hope of changing the subject was dashed. The paladin's story had wounded the old man, and no amount of digression would move them from that mire.

Meister Suvius started weeping. It was sudden and unnerving, the tears breaking through his wrinkles like water through stone. It threatened awkwardness. Darin went to speak, then to rise; then settled on gripping the old man's wrist between the alchemical tomes. "What is it?"

The touch seemed to shatter him further. Suvius sank in his chair and grey wisps fell across his face. "I'm sorry, my boy. I..."

He pulled away and lifted one of the parchment sheets from the table. It trembled in his arthritic grip, and as it was displaced something glinted underneath. Darin sat back and felt as if a weight had struck him. What had been revealed was something he had never dreamed to see again.

On the table, speckled with rust and dried blood, was a dagger. And on its pommel, the rose cross of the Orden Brotherhood.

Seconds passed in the tower chamber, with only ice winds as punctuation. On the plains below, dog sleds were being loaded as another party set out in search of Captain Ilsa's lost expedition. The shouts of the beastmasters and sherpas were a world away from the alchemist and paladin.

"The order's possessions were buried with them," Darin spoke at last, and looked up at Meister Suvius.

"Not this one, my boy. I'd know it anywhere. It is the dagger of Ranjald Suvius. It is the dagger of my son."

A memory flashed in Darin: the image of a squire, stoney-faced and silent, saddling the grandmaster's horse. Then another: the squire ladelling soup, a black-haired silhouette above Darin's shoulder, circling the table of the great hall. Before him were the same eyes - brown and coal black. Like father, like son.

"Ranjald was my second. He was to join the sages, but..." The confession trickled with the tears. "There were things between us. We parted sorely. I heard only that he had left to join the Orden Brotherhood, far in the north. And when I heard of the massacre, I wept and lit a candle for him in the belfry, as I have done all these years. Until... seven days ago... when this arrived."

Darin lifted the dagger and turned it in the candlelight. It was a household dirk, one of many entrusted to the squires of the men-at-arms. The blade was dulled and the haft leather worn. It had either been neglected, or used too often. Plunged too harshly into flesh and bone.

Suvius watched the paladin wield it. "It was found in the throat of a Northman. He was a man of Tavark - a fisherman. His body lay tangled in the rocks of Marvas Cove, twelve leagues outside the city. My cousin was in the hunting party that found him, and the dagger was dispatched to me."

Shakily, the old man rose from his chair. It was as if he could no longer bear to show his face to the paladin. "For days I did nothing. I considered melting it down; burying it. But then you arrived in Barvelle." He hobbled to the window and stood there, looking out at the storm. "The first thing we are taught as sages is that nothing can survive in the cold. If we hold to pure logic, there is nothing to warm us, nothing to keep us alive. Coincidence is a fire we must kindle. Fate is a thing we must trust in."

He turned and looked at the paladin with tearful eyes. "I thought my son dead. Now I fear he is alive. If he had fled from the massacre - if he had simply run away - then he would have returned to his family. Of that I am sure. He resented us; but would not have been so cruel. So the only answer - the only conclusion - is the one I dread the most."

He took a breath, wheezing and frail, before he spoke the next words. They came with a weight of finality. "I believe my son had a hand in the massacre of the Orden Brotherhood. And I believe you have come to avenge that wrong, Sir Darin, and to restore the honour of my family."

"If my son lives... then he must face justice..."

 

[fatalrendezvous]

Ilsa Lisbon ― Ruins Beneath Fissura Pass, Indigo

The words from the sarcophagus echoed in Ilsa's head, although she barely understood any of it. The words themselves haunted her, leaving her with fleeting, phantasmal mental images like fragments of an old dream.

She stood groggily, forcing herself to concentrate, and the ringing in her ears subsided to the sounds of Vrein roaring at Arcantos. The Draken's behavior was out-of-character, certainly, but understandable. Confusion melted into anger as she began shouting at them to break it up and settle down; the anger dissolved into shock as she watched Arcantos' scaly hide tear apart from within. Vrein's arms were wrapped in twisting bone, bloody tendrils grasping at his flesh and beginning to tear it, prompting a pained roar from Vrein as he struggled with the creature.

No sooner had Ilsa drawn her sword and begun to approach did the creature rear back in pain from two well-placed arrows from Castigarian's bow. It fell to the floors of the cavern below, the crunch of its twisted body echoing against the ice walls. All was eerily quiet before Castigarian checked on the man, helping him to his feet. Ilsa rushed to his side, joining his polar bear Aux and Castigarian as she hovered over him, concern apparent on her face as she examined his wounds.

No one even noticed the fleshy tendrils creeping back up the ledge, quietly wrapping around Vrein's ankle. When it had secured its grip, the creature further down below that was once Arcantos let out an enraged hiss as it pulled Vrein back down, yanking his body from Castigarian's grip. Vrein collided back against the ice and slid further off, grabbing onto the icy ledge just as he was about to be pulled down below. He hung from the cliff for a moment, doing his best to resist being pulled down by whatever foul creature Arcantos had become.

A gasp escaped Ilsa's lips as she leaped into a dive after Vrein, only to watch his fingers slide off the ledge just as she was about to reach him. She watched helplessly from above as Vrein fell and landed against the abomination's body, and the two of them struggled fiercely for control - a battle that the wounded Vrein was not likely to win.

"Kill the beast!" Ilsa commanded forcefully as she stood up, breaking into a sprint as she raced against time. Castigarian and a handful of other archers perched over the cliffside, nocking arrows and drawing them tight against tensed bowstrings, but none loosed a shot. Vrein and Arcantos tumbled in a blur of flesh and scale, and it was too difficult to predict who would end up where. Ilsa drew closer, dropping down other, smaller ledges around the cavern, followed closely by a few other soldiers in the caravan.

Up above, Castigarian was trying to get a clear shot. The man let out a grunt in frustration as he lowered his bow, roaring out at the archers around him. "Move yer damn hides!" he bellowed, as the archers around him dispersed outwards, giving him more room. Closing one eye, Castigarian raised the bow again and drew the arrow taut against the strings, awaiting an opportunity. Down below, Arcantos - or whoever he was now - had pinned Vrein, and the abomination began to sink its teeth into Vrein's flesh, staining the man's white tunic with splotches of crimson.

Ilsa had finally reached the ground level. She rushed towards the scuffle, sword drawn and held in both hands. As she approached, one more of Castigarian's arrows finally whizzed through the air, striking the creature squarely between the shoulder blades as it released Vrein and reared back in pain. "In fluescere de fulmen," Ilsa's voice whispered, the crackle of lightning sparking around her blade as she followed Castigarian's well-placed shot with a two-handed downwards swing from above her head. She aimed at the creature's center, but it twisted in an attempt to evade, and instead her blade sheared off the beast's arm.

It released a grisly cry of pain as the bloodied limb fell to the ground, thrashing about as though it had a mind of its own before falling limp and appearing to freeze over from within, shattering into pieces and crumbling apart. The scattered pieces of the limb and its entrails then suddenly dissolved and seemed to vanish into the snow. Like some kind of illusion; but Vrein's injuries were real.

The creature took a brief moment to tend to its injuries before lashing out at Ilsa in retaliation. Even a one-armed swing held enough force to knock Ilsa off her feet, forcing her to slide backwards as she skidded against the ice and tumbled through the group of reinforcements that had been following behind. The creature sought cover under the cliff face to avoid any further arrow attacks from above, snarling in its standoff as it faced the group of warriors on the ground.

Between the caravan and the beast lay a severely injured Vrein.