Pegulis, Chapter 2

[Seiji]

BARVELLE


Coul spun on his heel as soon as he had been dismissed by the Archon. His bearing was different. Before, he had been aloof and reserved. Now his shoulders were squared, he stood at full height; he looked regal, and every bit the man that was used to giving commands.

"If you have any recommendations for who you'd rather journey with, I will defer to your expertise. If not, send word to me in the coming hours if I do not send word to you first." He spoke formally, but was careful not to be too commanding of the man. It probably just made him sound worse.

Nodding to himself, Coul turned on Siris and ventured down the hall. He was approached then by the Animus, Ethelwen. Coul had wondered what he had been doing at the meeting, what his contribution was or had been or would be to them all. It seemed he was nothing more than a simple scribe and scholar.

"I will be in the Barvelle Guard Headquarters. It is as good a place as any to set up; a central location, easy to find, and the obvious place to go for those wishing to enlist. Additionally, it has training facilities. As to what the bulletin should say..." He tapped his chin, looking away. A small smile slowly crept over his lips.

"Poetry," he said finally, his words airy and excited. "I want you speak with the voice of a warrior-poet, rousing the men on the eve of battle. Inspire Pegulis; let them know we face dark times, an age of ignorance, and that only by our hand shall illumination persevere." He nodded, satisfied, and turned to walk away. "Be a poet."

Coul paused after a step and turned back to face the Animus. His once-gentle eyes were now cold, calculating. "Did you have any other questions?"

 

[4everDifferent]

Barvelle

Despite exhaustion, Telra couldn't help but dance wildly about Darin. One could have easily mistaken it for celebration, but it was quite the opposite. The little wisp had always dreaded the day that Darin discover those responsible for the death of his brothers and sisters in arms, and his wife. Telra's motions were panic manifested in a desire to draw his attention to reason and not let emotion dictate his reaction.

Darin was motionless save for the twirling of the blade in his hands. Had this been the very weapon that had been plunged through his wife's heart? Could it have been the one that butchered his order? Surely it was impossible for one man to do so much damage alone, especially if he was but a squire. Despite the questions that raged through his mind and the desire to take out his frustration on the old man who had fathered the very man who may have murdered his entire life, Darin remained surprisingly calm.

"Meister Suvius," Darin placed the blade onto the table in front of him, reverently despite it being a murderer's tool of choice, "You did nothing for days. Despite knowing of the butcher of my brothers and sisters. You had purposed to melt down the only evidence that could provide justice apart from a sword and desired to bury it," Darin rose to his feet after scooping up his helmet. He settled it into the crook of his arm, "My wife's murderer," his arm that had the locket chained to it rose into the air, "roamed free because what? You feared that your son died?"

Reason and calm were slipping quickly from Darin. Even after years of training and being a man that represented justice, he was still very human. Every scar that had begun to heal in his heart in regards to that massacre was torn wide open in a matter of one conversation. Darin wanted nothing more than to send the old man through the window he now stood at.

"Darin!" Telra's voice rang out as the paladin took one clanked step toward Suvius, "You mustn't do this. The Meister is mourning just as you are. Did you not hear his words? He believed is son dead, and now that that has changed, he is asking you to carry out the one thing you have always desired. Justice."

Darin stopped and looked at Telra, his eyes stung with tears and his face reflected his inner turmoil, "Selphia.." He spoke the name of his wife reverently. Telra shook vertically as if she had nodded. Telra understood his heartache, for she shared it. She had loved Selphia just as deeply but differently because it was the love that Darin had with her.

Darin sighed heavily. As angry as he was, Telra had once again managed to help him see reason and truth. Selphia would be displeased if she had known he killed Suvius in a vengeful rage. Only those responsible deserved the blade, and they would get it.

"I can do this, Suvius. I will avenge the deaths of everyone who had ever been important to me and restore honor to your family name if it was indeed your son. But he could not have acted alone, so I must not. I will need help." Darin stood tall though his heart ached within his chest. This was the one thing he wanted more than anything and he was well on his way to obtaining it.

 

[Voices of Nerat]

Dane Myros ― Aldus, gold

Billowing smoke loomed in the distance, over the shoulder of a dishelved rider that fled the scene for dear life. As his horse sped off across the endless plains of snow, the smell of burning and cries of mercy quickly grew faint to his senses, so focused on his escape that the gravity of the situation had yet to sink in. He didn't have time to think, he could only do one thing; Run.

For days he rode, through the freezing rain and the relentless wind, knowing no other way to proceed other than forward. He rode and rode, and when he was unable to ride anymore he ran, ran, ran. Time soon lost all meaning to him, his mind became so dull that he'd soon forgotten why it was he was running in the first place, just that he had to keep moving.

He didn't even remember making it to Aldus; though he'd long seen the towering spires in the distance, he'd lost a large gap of time between spotting the city and waking within its walls. Some kindly apothecary had apparently taken him in and nursed him back to health, after he'd been found outside the walls by a group of masons checking for structural damage.

That had been just barely a fortnight ago, and within that timespan he'd been conscripted into the Aldus Watch, dressed in a set of armor that was probably worth more than anything he'd ever owned in his life, combined... and while he'd taken to the training he received rather well, most of the other watchmen had written him off as essentially another brainless country bumpkin. As a result, he was often delegated to jobs that even the simplest of simpletons could do, such as his current assignment watching over the front entrance to the city's granary.

Dane sighed warily, slumping against the wooden outside wall of his current post. One arm wrapped around his shoddy spear, he idly took a bite from some hard piece of jerky that he could only hope was elk. His gaze shifted to the side, falling on the assorted townsfolk who were gathered in the square, going about their business. As much as he wanted to abandon his duty and seek out some fun, he knew it wouldn't be right to up and leave like that, monotonous as his task was.

He'dve been out there fighting the good fight with the caravan to Barvelle, but when he made his way to the gate and offered to help, the captain had politely declined, saying they'd need men to stay behind to keep the city secure. Whether she truly meant that or she just thought he'd be a liability, Dane was unsure, but he wasn't about to argue; the decisive tone she'd taken left little room for protest. He supposed she knew better than him, but still, it would've been a nice opportunity to prove himself... of course, it also would've been a nice opportunity to become a corpse, according to reports he'd heard of the caravan's fate.

Grimacing, he tried to dig a stray piece of meat out of his teeth, to no avail. As he craned his head back upwards, his eyes caught sight of a petite blonde-headed girl passing by, bounding down the street with pigtails swaying in the breeze. His first instinct was to just let her go on by, not thinking much of it... but his good nature got the better of him, convincing him otherwise.

"Little girl!" He called out, the sudden outcry stopping her in her tracks. He blanked for a second, having not really thought it out further than that. After a short moment of awkward silence, he cleared his throat, straightening himself. "Er... ahem." He approached slowly, armor shifting audibly as he did so. "Y'know, uh, y'really shouldn't be runnin' about alone n' all. Crazy stuff been happenin' lately... ain't safe fer kids to be goin' all over the place when ya don't got yer parents 'round."

As soon as he got close, he'd squat down to her level, balancing himself with the shaft of his spear and offering a friendly smile. "Where ya goin' in such a hurry, anyway? If it ain't far I'll walk with ya." He glanced back at the granary behind him, shrugging. "Not particularly busy nohow." He figured the animal feed could survive a few minutes without his constant vigil. "Just don't walk too fast, imma bit slow in this armor."

Standing back up, he'd nod down the street in the direction she'd been running, indicating that they should proceed. As they walked the path in tandem, Dane scratched the tuft of hair on his chin, the glimmering gem band that adorned his finger coming into clear view. He tilted his head curiously at her, finally deciding to ask the question that was nagging at his mind. "Y'know, you seem familiar. I seen you before? You summin' important's kid, or what?"

 

[Jack Shade]

"Do we intend to travel around the rim of the Prosperos to Hosia?"

Medwick called up to Glyph, coaxing his horse into a canter to catch the bouncing sage, "Since our arrival I've been patient, but I need to know how we're proceeding."


Glyph smiled before waving a gnarled hand dismissively and pointing ahead of them. "You think we are lost, Nudnik? Go, look into the eye of the cliff if you are impatient." Frowning, Medwick spurred his horse ahead, dismounting where stone hugged the curving coast save for a hole worn by water and wind through the sheer-face.

The rest of the party found him beside the hole, sitting quietly on the wet sand and shaking his head. "The Dreadcove," Medwick said when Glyph and the rest had finally caught him, "You've brought us to the Dreadcove?"


"Yes, my curious digger. How else do we sail to Hosia?"


"I didn't mean in slave shackles," Medwick hissed, "What I've heard about the Dreadcove..."


"You believe in such bobbemyseh?"


"What is the Dreadcove?" Caohime asked quietly, peering through the hole.


"Do not fret, Vilda Chaya," Glyph said, "Medwick would frighten you with stories."


"All stories have truth to them," Medwick returned, crossing his arms, "The Dreadcove is a den of smugglers, slavers, and thieves. The worst of Viridos and Kaustir fester here. Our guide believes we can broker passage from them."


"Easier than parlaying with poison forests or the Kaustrians." Aerie shrugged, but a tremor in her wings betrayed her nerves.


Medwick looked back through the hole and to the long trail of fading hoof tracks in the sand behind them. He hadn't left the frozen north to be turned around so easily now, especially when the guide who'd brought them here had already disappeared back into the Pegulian foothills. The birds were gone now, but their omen was fresh. Medwick sighed and shrugged defeat. "You'd better know what you're doing."


"Ease yourself, Medwick," Glyph murmured, pointing through the eye of the cliff to a large white galleon anchored in the bay, "Fortune is with us."

The Dreadcove was a relic of different times. Once, enterprising pirates packed their ships with twice too many crews and set out to the shipping routes of Kaustir and Viridos. When they took a ship, half the crew would pilot the stolen vessel back to the Chersonese. Twice as many ships meant more opportunity. Unfortunately, command of the vessels often got confused after they made port and violence inevitably followed. The Dreadcove was a graveyard of bodies the scavengers refused to fix. Damage was treated like an execution in many profiteering circles and the DreadCove grew as more and more degenerates flocked to the flag of blood and sea-water. This was a town of betrayals and memories…a thousand nooks and crannies to hide a former friend or lover. Places only the crabs and rats would find.


The Drunken Draken was a favorite tavern of the DreadCove. Not the only of its kind, but certainly the most reputable. The Drunken Draken himself, Zok, earned his name in a hundred revelries and to the crunch of too many pewter beer skeins crushed on his skull. Moreso, he'd shown no aversion to blood and the price of it to keep the peace in his home. Successful captains dined in the Drunken Draken, legends of brutality and conniving…the seadogs too old to die and too young to graft their ship to the Dreadcove.


Tullius Tapp was dubious when the sun-stained elder requested an audience with a guest of the Drunken Draken, but had been trained well enough by Zok to know better than to question. Rapping twice at the double door of the Admiral room the willowy Tapp ushered the travelers inside. "Apologies for my interruption," he announced, his voice a surprising boom for such a slight frame, "A man named Glyph and his compatriots seek an audience with you." He waited no longer than it took to make the announcement, swiftly closing the doors behind them.




The wide table in front of them sat thirteen of a crew, dressed in the garb of their mixed homelands. Several empty chairs roughly pushed into the table suggested that there had been more at one time. Polished apples and steaming meat were stacked on gleaming silver trays and two decanters of wine sat full, accompanied by three empty. But the Nocturne at the head of the table sought no wine, instead bent the neck of a lovely Kaustrian girl over a goblet. One hand, tangled in her auburn hair, held her aloft while the other pressed a delicate funnel to her skin. Blush had left her skin pale, but the goblet was fresh filled. Gently, the Nocturne sat her back up on his lap, removing the funnel and dabbing a finger against his tongue before pressing the saliva to her cut. Glyph kept quiet while the Nocturne stood, helped the girl to an empty chair at the table, and pressed three golden coins into her palm.


His molten eyes never left Glyph and the others and as he returned to his seat, he spoke, swift and sharp. "Das vajik, Tes'wa ovo."


"You cannot possibly still be sore." Glyph chided, "It was strictly business."


The Nocturne smashed his fist onto the table, drawing silence taut in the room. Medwick glanced at Shardis who had instinctively placed her hands on her blades. He shook his head once.


Silence lasted only a moment before the nocturne burst out laughing, relaxing against his chair and waving the new guests to find a seat along the large table. "Come then," the Nocturne boomed, "You smell like too much dirt and sweat. Travelers I'd wager and…" he paused, closing his eyes and taking in a deep breath, "Pegulians…but I suppose that's not fair of me. You have the shadow of frost on you, all the North has it."


Glyph sat first, followed by the others and the Nocturne held his hands out over the feast, "A rare day to see an old friend, so I'll thank your destination by offering what I have."

"Captain?" A woman treeling with thorns on her branch-like hair whispered, "Introductions?"


The host clapped his hands together and stood, pounding one hand against the wood to gather their attention again. "My sincere apologies. Decorum fails me in this far from illustrious locale. I am Admiral Kessel Cole of the Hosian navy." Glyph busied himself cutting a bleeding hunk of meat from the selection and Medwick stared, shocked. "Ah. Yes, but you are thinking perhaps he lies, yes? What would an Admiral of the Hosian navy be doing in the Dreadcove? Well, you would be right to question me…but as I count no Viridian among you, I feel my brief dalliance here will continue unreported." He grinned wolfishly at Shardis , pulling a scroll from his coat and brandishing it at Medwick "To be truthful, I've been forced to..err…renew my less than clandestine contacts to complete a personal project." Kessel sat with a shrug and speared the piece of meat Glyph had been carefully cutting, slinging it onto his plate. Medwick unrolled the parchment, noting the seal of Ilium on Kessel's registration papers. Frowning, he handed them back.


"But we are all out of place then. Yes, yes…except perhaps your guide." The rest of the crew had begun to devour the feast as well. Kessel pointed to each member of the travelers before folding his hands together. "Tell me of your journey…or…" he coughed politely and sipped from his golden goblet, "At least what part of it necessitated a visit to this ghastly place."

 

[Navras]

Aldus - Azareth Searching

Azareth hadn't noticed the little girl going into the Council building as he left it, she'd gone in after he had gone out and he had begun to mingle with the crowd... though, admittedly, he was a bit directionless. That wasn't to say he wasn't without a goal, but it was to say that he didn't know where to go. His days were usually spent at A Way's Away, and now that he no longer had the appropriate sum of money to shop there, he wasn't sure where to go. The morning crowds rushed past him in all directions, and Azareth stopped dead in his tracks. Where was he to go?

As he was thinking this, standing perfectly still and being without expression, even under his mask of bandages, a boy moved through the crowd. A street urchin, this boy looked to scrape a few gems from this person and that by picking their pockets and taking what he could find. He saw the cloaked and bandaged man standing perfectly still and thought him a perfect target. He moved in, quiet as could be with the roar of the crowd buzzing in the morning cold. When he got within eyesight, he stood up straight and walked normally, heading directly for the man who didn't seem to move at all.

Bumping into him, the urchin reached into his cloak and quickly felt around for anything of value. What he felt was something cold and... moving? He couldn't tell, didn't have time to just stand and examine with his hands. With a hard tug of his young hands and a harsh step back away from the man, the boy rushed through the crowd holding his prize - only to be stopped by a strong, firm grip on his shoulder. Looking behind him, the boy's eyes' widened as the black cloaked man stood just inches away from him, looking down with his painted eyes directly at him. He'd been caught! He tried to wriggle free but only earned a rough and sudden shaking for his efforts. Now the boy was scared, he'd never been caught before. Those who were caught were punished, and the punishments, though fair for the crime, were usually harsh and well enforced. He didn't want to get punished, he just wanted to eat!

"Give that to me," the man growled, removing his hand from his shoulder and holding it out in front of him. "Now."

The boy couldn't believe what he was hearing... was he... being let go? In exchange for whatever it was he'd taken? It was better than being punished, there were other people to steal from, and now that he was looking at the man up close he felt... something akin to fear of him, though he didn't know why. Holding up his little hands, he placed the objected into the bandaged grip of the man he'd stolen from and actually took a second to look at what he'd grasped. It was then that he realized his hands were still tingling, as if something had been shaking in them violently. And the bottle... in the shape of a skull... it looked empty. But why would someone carry empty bottles around with them?

"Run along," Azareth ordered, tucking his skull bottle back into his cloak and standing up straight. he watched the urchin run away and took note of his face. Perhaps it would prove useful to him later... Looking back through the crowd, Azareth saw the shape of a young, blond girl talking to a man in armor that looked too big for him. A member of the Aldus Watch. Was he perhaps scolding her for stealing as he had just done? Was she asking him for some sort of favor? Who could say? Not he, and so after but a few moments of standing still again he moved back into the crowd, heading southward and towards the Rusty Tankard. If he could not spend his day shopping, he would do so studying instead while he waited for the Council's summoning.

 

[Peregrine]

ETHELWEN-BARVELLE, royalblue

The General might have been a very respected member of Pegulis, but he was certainly rather intimidating. Ethelwen was afraid to embarrass himself in front of the Archon because he desperately wanted to impress her, but he was afraid of embarrassing himself in front of Coul because he honestly wasn't quite certain what the man would do to him should he mess up or disappoint.

Therefore, when the man asked his final question, eyes cold and judgmental, Ethelwen lowered his head deferentially. "No," he replied. "I'll get to work on the bulletin immediately." It was clear that the old general didn't think much of Ethelwen, and he was wondering, nearly as much as Ethelwen was, why the Archon had sent for him. A part of him believed that it was just for the purposes of a scribe, but there were many scholars who would be honored to create a marvelous work of art and language for the Archon. And there were scholars who would certainly make much better warrior-poets, as the general had called it.

But she had asked him to return when he had finished with the bulletins, and that made him hope that she had some other purpose for him. Maybe she really did want to take him on as an assistant? But, in the end, his purpose did not change whether the Archon wanted to recognize him or not. He wanted the recognition, wanted the respect that would come along with it, but he did not need it. The city of Barvelle, its tunnels and passages and little secrets, would not treat him any differently if he was a trash-hauler or the Archon's assistant.

But that did not mean he had time to waste. The creation of these bulletins was going to be a major effort, and the longer he stood around thinking the longer it would take to get them done. And he needed time to get them done well. "Excuse me sir," he murmured to Coul, before taking off down the hallway. He was heading towards the offices of Feneri, his mentor and master. Ethelwen had the supplies to complete the bulletin himself, but he wished for the aid of his friend. After all, he had to convince a nation of scholars that it was time to prepare for war, and that would be no easy task.

 

[Asmodeus]

Barvelle

Meister Suvius had shrunk against the window sill, his body hunched and waiting for the blow, the sword-strike, the punishment that roared in Darin. But when the Paladin's own soul interceded, the old man was left in tears. He had not been spared his shame. And his pain had not transcended to the physical.

He could only nod as Darin calmed and spoke with new resolve.

"This is a city of old men, Darin. Old and foolish men. Take who you can from Barvelle, but in Tavark you will find warriors. I assure you."

He straightened slightly, and trod a slow circle around the knight before returning to the desk. A pot of feathered quills, one incorporeal and Aux-like, the other physical, sat atop of a stack of papers. He fetched the latter and dipped in ink before writing shakily. "When I was still strong enough to cross the eastlands, I made acquaintances in Tavark. Fine hunters and trackers. M'Vae Don of the cliff woods. Amara Desini, youngest of the tri-blood hunters. And Ture Longspur, a scout in the employ of my cousin. They may not serve the Light as you do, Sir Darin. But they serve Pegulis. You can trust them."

Suvius turned and held out the parchment to Darin, the inked names still drying. And a moment before he handed it over he remembered a fourth.

"Oh, and my old friend: Castigarian Gredihm. He is a good man to have in a fight."

Utandis Cavern

Castigarian Gredihm was knocked flat on his face, inches from the drop. A shower of ice had struck his back, skimmed along his head and arms, and bounced over the edge of the ice ledge. Not just any ice shards. The ones that had fallen from his pocket. The remains of the Ice Golem Proditius. They moved as if with a mind of their own.

But down below, Ilsa saw the truth of it. The ice shards were being drawn into the beast, as was the blood of Vrein which had splattered the snow. The gore lifted in stringy tendrils and leapt towards the monster's core. It was consuming organic matter, sucking up the pieces of the injured. Where its arm had severed she saw new life, putrid and virulent.

It came again, vaulting over Vrein to seek fresh matter. Spears and arrows struck it. It bucked yet did not relent. Two men had taken Ilsa's place and were first to meet it. The Forest Kin with pine cone skin was shoved clear aside, and crashed to the lower floor with a groan. His partner, a fledgling Nocturne, buried an axe into the monster's flank, but came too close to the arm wound of the creature. The pulsing, whipping cords of gore latched across his face and made fusion with the skin. The Nocturne twisted and the monster kept going. Strips of flesh were ripped from the boy's features, and he fell against the ice wall while clutching ruined cheeks.

His cry broke Ilsa's focus. She made her swing too soon as the creature rammed her. Other troops were knocked like skittles and the Captain slammed onto her back, sword slipping from her grip, creature atop her. Arteries and entrails sloughed onto her arms. She was entangled. Now it was not the gaping chest that came for her, but instead the head. With a sickening crunch the face of Arcantos tipped back upright and sagged towards her on a boneless neck. His tongue extended, hardening into bone, a jagged implement that would pierce her skull.

The braver soldiers fell upon it, driving swords and axes into its back. But it would not let up. A moan exuded, horrible and tremulous.

And up above, knowledge burned in Castigarian. The insight, placed there by Proditius, came in agonized flashes. He felt love and heartache, a longing that had lasted centuries, the chill of long sleep. He felt the walls of that coffin behind him, the press of the exoskeleton, metal filling airways, stone fusing with skin. He felt the pain of something going wrong, a cancer of malfunction.

He felt the creature. He knew the sleep it had suffered... and the abomination it had become.

He had to free it.

He had to give it death.

 

[lynzy]

The Dreadcove, Shardis had heard of the place before but only in rumors and snippets of conversations overheard. None of it was good and all of it made her nervous. She wished they didn't have to go there, that they had stayed home but she also knew that no one could accomplish this feet better than her brother. The Snow Leopard Anima also knew she would kill, or die trying, anyone that would even touch Galain, let alone harm him.

Upon entering the Drunken Draken Shar's nerves were completely on edge and it showed in her tel of jingling earrings. Her ears switched this way and that and then down flat and then up again and more switching. Also her tail almost kept time with the noisy ear bobs. Shardis wanted to shove Medwick behind her and take a defensive stance but she knew he would be furious with her if she did that, so Shar stayed as close to him as she could.

Once they reached the table and the group of 'people' sitting at it she just about jumped out of her skin and almost went for her knife and sword when the Nocturne slammed his fists on it. She caught Medwick's head shake out of the corner of her eye and relented, backing down slightly.

There were words spoken, mostly by the Nocturne, a Admiral Kessel Cole of the Hosian navy, so he said... Shardis was doubtful but watched the others there and they seemed to confirm it, especially Medwick's reaction. Then everyone started eating the wonderful food in front of them. Shar was hungry but too nervous to eat much at the moment so only nibbled at the bloody meat. At all times she had a hand on her knife ready to throw it between that Nocturne's eyes if the need arose.

 

[4everDifferent]

Barvelle

Darin Estrigg looked down at the scroll he had tied to his belt the moment he took it from Meister Suvius' trembling hand. Parts of him still wished he had killed the man. Like doing such a thing would have provided him with some form of peace, but he knew Telra was right. To kill the old man would have done no one any good and it would have more definitely made him a murderer. Something that would have shamed the order and the memory of his beloved Selphia.

Darin left Suvius not long after and with a very short farewell. He didn't trust himself the longer he spent in the old man's presence. Telra had been very pleased when the left. Both the Advent as well as stopping Darin from becoming a murderer had worn heavy on the light wisp who once again shone duller than normal. She rested wearily on his plated shoulder.

Darin spent the remainder of the day in preparations to set off on his quest. Suvius had told him where to find help, and he would need plenty of supplies for the three day journey on horseback. He had secured a horse, a gift from a family who's son he had saved the day before. Food was just as easy to come across. Whatever he couldn't pay for was given to him for healing the baker's stricken wife. They were perks of healing but not ones he enjoyed collecting on. But these were trying times, and justice demanded it.

Now, the paladin, his helmet on his head, his shield strapped to his back and his Aux recooperating on his shoulder, was riding into the snowy fields outside of Barvelle on his route to Tavark. He had chosen to take the quickest route, unwilling to waste any time. Telra had readily agreed but Darin believed her motivation was to put this whole thing behind them so that Darin could once more focus on the good of his order.

Darin had collected one more thing from Suvius. It would be the took that would be used to deliver justice and restore Suvius' family honor. Wrapped tightly in a red clothe, the Orden custom concerning weapons that would deliver justice, was the dagger that belonged to Suvius' son. It would find its final resting place in the body of the man who had taken part in the destruction of his order and the murder of his wife.

One day down, three more to go.

 

[Noctis the Devious]

Tavark

[imga]http://media-cache-ec0.pinimg.com/236x/bd/c8/6c/bdc86cef03be646d65a1660005a589ce.jpg[/imga]"Hey," Amara greeted once she caught her breath, straightening up with that grin still plastered across her face. "Hi, I need your help. I need to--" She jumped back when Ture suddenly sneezed and quirked an eyebrow. "Bless you? You're not sick or something are you? No wonder your voice sounded so funny, must of caught something during that nightmare of a storm. Hey, if it turns out to be fatal, can I have your maps?" Whatever distance was put between them was quickly recovered and Ture consequently found his personal space invaded by an ever so eager huntress and her furry aux friend.

[drop]A[/drop]ll the while, the mounted body didn't go unnoticed for long and cries of fear and anguish filled the streets of Tavark and all able body men and women went mobile. The people at the front gate didn't waste any time in reporting the anima they had seen and even aided in escorting to Aurormi's cabin. A description of appearance was passed around and the hunters set out to find the blood thirsty beast.

 

[Wolfsin]

Barvelle~ Archons Chambers

Perhaps Wolfsin had overdone it with his boisterous introduction. It wasn't meant to be so pristine and pompous, but when you went from having a good paying subject and Lord; to living off the comfort of barmaids with a lustful disposition; it only seemed right he would choose to approach things in a professional way. Wolfsin could already tell that this old weasel that stood by the lady Eirene had judged him harshly. it didn't matter as it wasn't the first time and so long as the payment was there, and the person he was meant to protect was even slightly bearable, he could give a rats ass what any of the others thought, including those that hired. A quick glance to the mistress and it was easily decided she was more than bearable to deal with, by looks alone, though her attitude would set a quick fire beneath him if he got out of hand. It would be careful work from here.

"Thank you for your welcome elders, it is certainly my honor."

Wolfsin turned first to eye the others around the room and then Coul where he lingered for a moment. A smart comment came to mind but he settled with a simple smirk, one that would allow the man to know he wasn't afraid of him at all. He then faced lady Eirene and nodded. "I will do what I can to stay out of your hair, but I feel you are asking a lot of me for our first day together, your hair is quite long after all.." it was a subtle joke, a poke at her to show he wasn't just some armored Goliath with a sword arm, he had a personality as well, and perhaps she might learn to enjoy it some day, but as the rest of the party escorted themselves out he found it in his best to stand offside and watch the happenings silently.

For being a Lady she certainly had a mouth on her, it was amusing to say the least, and watching the higher ups light up always was enjoyment. of course now he wondered, what would be next, she had dismissed him, but that wasn't exactly how this job worked, he wouldn't bother her in her chambers or disrupt her privacy obviously but if she were anywhere that held potential of her being harmed he would be there. After all the death of a charge did not do well on a traveling mercenaries record. "Milady I hope to acquire a map of the area, entrances and such, and if possible I would ask that we have enough able men to guard all entry ways. it might appear troublesome but i only ask in your best interest, big as I am i can not be everywhere at once, I will train the men chosen personally and take full responsibility for their lives if you would allow this." He stopped after that watching her as the rest departed, he didn't plan to depart, not until things were squared away he had to be sure that he had control over this job and if he could get her attention he planned to set some ground rules as well.

 

[4everDifferent]

The road to Tavark

Darin rode through the day, stopping long enough to eat and allow the horse to drink. It had been a silent ride with Telra recuperating and Darin mulling over the ever nearing completion of his vengeance. He purposed it under the guise of justice and though it would be served, vengeance was his motivator and his own violation to Orden's Code. A paladin was to only serve justice, not be ruled by vengeance. Vengeance turned men's hearts against what was right, it made them struggle with who they were. Such were Darin's thoughts during the silent ride of day one.

Darin set up camp late in the evening choosing a small overlook to find shelter beneath. A small fire burned to provide the heat he so desperately needed. His armor was piled not far from the horse and a thick blanket wrapped around his form as he huddled closely, but safely, by the fire. Taken by sleep, Darin found himself caught up in a dream.

He tossed and turned as the nightmare that plagued him for so long once again plagued his rest. The taunting form of Selphia's colorless corpse both pleading for him to save her and accusing him of being too weak to save anyone since he could not even safe the most important person in his life. Her eyes would burn with helplessness one moment and then seething hatred the next. Each nightmare ending with him once more watching her slip into oblivion.

"Darin..."

The paladin shot up from his nightmare, his sword clearing its sheath with a ring that filled the air. Telra hovered close by, her light back to its original brightness and casing light in every direction. His sword lowered when he realized he had been alone. His shirt and leather pants stuck to his sweat slick form despite it being as cold as it always was in Pegulis. Telra lowered to his eye level and dimmed.

"Another nightmare," he spoke quietly as he slid the blade back into its home. Telra stayed silent. She knew, he knew that but it helped him to say it. He knew she knew that as well. Darin sighed, "I've got to do this to make everything right," he spoke.

This time Telra spoke, "Just don't forget who you are, Darin. Selphia would want that more than justice for her death."

Darin nodded, Telra was right. Of all the things Selphia would want it was that he would be the man she had fallen in love with. He couldn't let vengeance twist him into something he was not. He was a Paladin. Justice and mercy flowed trough his veins. He could never forget that.

Since sleep would be far from him now, and seeing they were only an hour or two from sunrise, Darin decided to set out once more. He slid into his chain mail and plate shoulders before latching his shield over his back and his sword to his side. After rolling his blanket and bed, he mounted his horse to once again be on his journey.

Day two awaited him.

 

[fatalrendezvous]

Karissa Lisbon ― City Streets of Aldus, Royalblue

Karissa stopped to look towards the man who'd called out to her in the streets, ready to dash off at the first sign of trouble. But the sight of Aldus Watch armor and the mirror pendant around his neck put her at ease. She relaxed as he approached, looking up at the man whose face was unfamiliar, but whose accent gave him away. He must have been the new recruit that Karissa had overheard her mother talking about when she addressed some complaints from two Watch members who had come to their home to speak privately.

"He's jus' a dullard, Cap'n," the man insisted.

The black-haired woman sitting beside him nodded in agreement. "A simple backwoodsman," she added. They were being polite; had Karissa not been in the room they'd likely have used much harsher terms. "He's not fit to be part of the Watch."

Her mother adjusted restlessly in her seat, setting her cup of tea back against the table with an audible clink as her eyes bore into them both. "I'll not hear this from either of you again. Dane may not be the most sociable, but we wouldn't have recruited him if we didn't think him capable. Do not exclude him by assigning him the simplest tasks."

Ilsa's eyes rested on the circular Aldus Watch mirrors hanging from each guard's neck. "Do not forget what I've told you: we are a reflection of the events that shape us, and our actions reflect on others. Include him. After I leave for Barvelle, you both will be in charge in my absence. Set a good example and be leaders."

Karissa was shaken from the memory by the image of her own reflection staring back at her, framed by the embellishments of the Aldus Watch pendant dangling from Dane's neck as he crouched down to greet her. Karissa's eyes met her own in the mirror, before she glanced over Dane's shoulder at the granary behind him. Her mother's words reverberated in her head as she finally spoke, nodding in affirmation of his question that he recognized her. "I'm Karissa," she introduced, turning to walk back towards the school as he followed. "Ilsa's daughter. I'm just on my way back to school." She dropped the formal, recited introduction as she usually did among members of the Watch; they were like family to her. "You're... Dane, right? I remember hearing my mom talk about you."

She craned her head back up at him as they walked, deciding not to explain too many details about the conversation itself. "She says you're cay..." she struggled with the unfamiliar word. "Cay-pah-bul. Capable! And that you shouldn't get stuck doing the boring stuff," she added, motioning back at the granary behind them. "Hey!" she chirped, in a better mood than before now that she had some company, skipping forward a ways and turning around to face him as she walked backwards. "Can you beat up some of the boys who have been bullying me at school?"

 

[Voices of Nerat]

Dane Myros ― Aldus, gold

As they started their way down the street, Dane froze mid-stride, a sudden chill running up his spine. He had a strange feeling in his gut, like eyes had been watching him... but as his head shot back to look, there was nothing to be seen; nothing unusual, that is. Sighing, he shook his head, mentally scolding himself for being so jumpy. Maybe he was a little superstitious after all.

Removing any remaining thoughts on that subject from his mind, he refocused his attention on the little girl walking beside him, the worried look on his face quickly vanishing and returning to a pleasant smile. He nearly stumbled over his feet when she mentioned she was Ilsa's daughter, eyes widening just slightly. So that's why she seemed familiar... now that he thought about it, the two did look rather alike.

"Oh geez! Er... I 'pologize fer bein' so infernal, yer ladyship!" He gave the most gracious bow he was capable of in that heavy steel gear, clearly a bit confused on the Lisbon family's status in Aldus, or how the social hierarchy worked in the city... or the definition of the word 'infernal', for that matter. "Yer right, that's my name, miss! Good guess!"

The country boy was surprised to hear that the captain had spoken of him before; he had assumed himself to be so far under her level that he didn't even register, but maybe that wasn't so. "Gosh... the cap'n said that about me..?" He felt almost embarrassed now, cheeks turning just a tad flush and grin growing slightly wider. "W-Well, I don't mind it much, y'know, uh, summin's gotta do the borin' jobs, I reckon... Might s'well be me." Dane seemed a bit caught off guard by it all, so unused to hearing praise like that, much less from the ladyfolk.

Karissa's voice cut through his bumbling train of thought, mentioning a group of boys that had been harassing her. "Bullyin'? Little ol' you? That ain't right, pickin' on a girl, 'specially when her ma ain't here to do nothin' 'bout it. Cowardly, s'what I'd call it." He sighed, fiddling with the pendant draped around his neck. "Can't just beat 'em up though, that ain't right neither." He had a thoughtful look about him, thinking about what he could do to help her situation, without having to resort to violence.

-----------

Not much later, they'd arrive outside the schoolhouse, or at least what Dane assumed to be since there were dozens of rowdy children (mostly boys, it seemed) playing in the yard, while an instructor kept a loose eye on them. The two stopped just short of the school grounds, the country boy looking down to the city girl with a raised brow.

"Must be break time," Dane commented, turning to her and shrugging. He really had no idea how the school worked, lacking a formal education and all. "Alright, I got an idea... you go talk to summa' them boys what's been botherin' ya, and I'll be right here, lookin' all intimidatin' and whatnot. You tell 'em, they mess with ya again, yer friend over here's gonna tan their hides." He smirked at her, hoping she'll approve of his plan. "I won't really, a'course, but they don't gotta know that."

With a sly wink, he'd give her a pat on the head, then usher her towards the schoolhouse with a gentle push to the back. "Go on then, don't be scared. Ya gotta get back to yer booklearnin' soon nohow, right?" Resting his arm on the hilt of the sheathed blade at his side, he'd watch the Lisbon girl as she walked away, preparing to put on his meanest face when the time was right.

 

[Lord Wraith]

M'VAE DON - TAVARK, blue

he light of a new dawn woke M'Vae as he rose from the snow he had collasped into the night before. The sounds of loud cries echoing from the city's square consumed M'Vae's skull as he tried to clean any residual blood from his coat. Dusting the snow off with his paws, M'Vae lifted his hood above his head, doing his best to shield his face least the town have any idea of what they're looking for. Shouldering his pack of furs, M'Vae moved between houses, putting some distance between himself and Alasdair's house.

Slowing his movements say as not to draw any unnecessary attention, M'Vae allowed old instincts to take over as he leaned against a log cabin before stepping into the street and blending in with a passing crowd. It had been years since he had to escape the scene of a crime, but even now he felt perfectly calm about it. Not that his lust for revenge lightened his heart in anyway, he hadn't been expecting to learn that his Rose was still alive. That bastard Alasdair sold her, damned her to being reduced to nothing but a whore all because he couldn't stand the idea of her being with an Anima.

Steering away from the small group of people he had merged with, M'Vae bowed his head attempting to hide his great height as he headed towards the fur trader. Stopping outside the trader, he began to unfurl the finely tanned hides. If M'Vae was to head to Avarath, then he was going to need coin, and short of committing any more crimes while he was in Tavark this was the only way to go.

"What do you have there Sah?" The Trader called out cheerfully as he hobbled towards M'Vae, the old man had a bad limp as he supported himself with an odd looking cane.

"Elk, wolf, fox, goat and even some beaver from down the stream." M'Vae answered, keeping his rumbling voice low.

"Quite the variety." The man remarked as he held up a beaver hide. "Fine work, steady cuts. You've been taught well. Your master must of been quite proud when you finished apprenticing under him."

"He unfortunately passed away before I could finish."

"Ah, a shame then. How much would you like for these?" The man asked as a wind blew through the town square, the strong breeze lifting M'Vae's hood off his head as the man fell backwards suddenly paralyzed in fear as he looked upon the Anima's striped face and long fangs. "HALP!" The man called out as M'Vae suddenly launched himself over the kiosk, scrambling onto the small roof before leaping to the building nearby. "The killer! The killer is here!"

An arrow suddenly whizzed by M'Vae as a nearby guard opened fire without hesitation. Breaking into a run, M'Vae grunted as a arrow dug into his wounded shoulder causing him to stumbled. The tiled roof beneath him suddenly broke as M'Vae plummeted towards the ground. The sudden impact left him winded as the sound of multiple blades being drawn echoed from around him. A group of hunters and guards alike held out their weapons as M'Vae slowly stood up.

"There's been enough blood shed for one day. Don't do anything stupid and you might live to see trial." The Captain said, his sword leveled towards M'Vae's throat. The Sabertooth let out a low rumble from his throat as he sized up the party surrounding him. In his prime, M'Vae could have taken down enough of them to make a getaway, however it had been years since those days, ever since he had met Rose, M'Vae had tried to be a better person and that meant leaving his former career behind. Yet the temptation was still there as M'Vae's paw hovered over his axe handle. Something whizzed through the air as M'Vae let out a roar of anguish as his paw was pierced by an arrow. Reluctantly, the large Anima slumped to his knees as he admitted defeat realizing now that there was no way he was getting out of this one.

"Take him in boys!" The guard's rushed him as he was stripped of his weapons and he arms bound while several other ropes were wrapped around his torso and neck as M'Vae was lead off to Tavark's dungeon. The town cheered the guards on from all sides as M'Vae was pararded towards the dark stone building.

"You're lucky Pegulis is a civilized nation, if I had it my way you'd been gutted in the streets beast. You killed good men!" The Captain's voice rang out from behind M'Vae as he felt the pommel of a sword hit against his back as he pushed into the dingy cell. The door slammed behind M'Vae as he turned and rushed towards the iron bars. His feral roars echoed through the stone hallway before he turned and rested against the wall. One last roar rang out in through the complex as he ripped the arrow from his paw.

 

[Ai]

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

Tears trickled down Vrein's cheeks as his blood poured down from his freshly mauled body that tainted the pure white snow with crimson liquid. Falling to his knees, the blacksmith let out a loud guttural groan through the cracks of his teeth. Shit…so much flankin' red!

Flashes of the past ran through his mind, 'Will I die here?' his thoughts wandered into the deepest darkest corners of his subconscious. Guiding him through the faces of the people who had depended on him, the people he loved. "No…" The sound of his aux's voice rung through his ears as it began to hum a familiar tune. The song that was considered a taboo, only sung by those who had escaped the iron chains of Kraustir, by the slaves whom he once bled with; still held strong in Vrein's heart.

Wiping the blood from his eyes, he watched the creature's attention turn away from him over to Ilsa. I'll be damned if you get hurt!

This would be his final stand. "Fire and Hacking and Churning, Our friends are burning, We will all rise!" the song escaped him. Drawing his sword he rose from the ground "Iron is our will and we are its will, one day they'll die!" he roared, adrenaline pumping through him. Charging toward the abomination, Vrein pressed what remained of his strength down against the iron hilt. Veering the blade into the beast's organs that attached themselves to Ilsa, kicking her out of the way; he braced himself for the pain of the creature's blow.

 

[Torsty]

Outside Barvelle, brown

"Aaarniii!....Aaaaarni!!!"
Mahavir can't see his guide anymore. For the last few hours all he could see was the rough figure of his companion through the thick snow.

How much longer? How did Àrni know where to lead them? They had not encountered any settlements for days.

Is Barvelle a real city? The Mayor had guaranteed him so. Now he was starting to question everything he had been told. Maybe it was the pain, the aches, the chilling cold that gave his body no time to fully rest causing his moment of doubt. He is so cold, so very very cold, he can't feel his legs.

Still no sign of the drunkard, Mahavir can barely keep his eyes open due to the storm. Time to hop off the horse and get the blood circulation back into his lower body.

"Aaaghh!" Mahavir's feet collapses under him as they touch the ground. They disappear from sight under the snow, he slips and instinctively shoot his arms out behind him to protect the fall of his derriere.

But Mahavir's body is tired and weak, he falls backwards into the snow, lying flat out. Still awake, he can't find the strength to get back up from the cold.

 

[4everDifferent]

The road to Tavark

Darin had been riding for a little over half the day when he noticed Telra's mood lighten. The wisp flew quicker and shone brighter than she had the past couple of days. Darin was going to write it off as her just feeling better, but then curiosity stole him. A smile slipped across his lips as his eyes followed her when she whipped in front of him and then around his body before launching high into the air. When she returned, Darin spoke, "Aren't we feeling better today!"

Telra giggled, "Much. I'm also very excited." Telra spun quickly around his forearm before moving to his eye level and calming.

"Why?" Darin asked. He was rather enjoying her little show and pouted ever so slightly when she chose to stop.

"I can sense that today will be a grand day, Darin. We're one day closer to justice and one day closer to being done with all of this misery," Telra replied and Darin nodded in agreement. He had always felt that once this was over, he would get a chance to move on. Maybe he could even fulfill the promises his wife had made him make in case of her death. He had promised her to be happy and to be willing to love again. Hard promises to keep, but maybe when this was all over he could keep them.

"Yes, Telra, we will get a chance to-" his eyes caught sight of something through the falling snow. Telra sensed his curiosity and shone brighter to cast some light. It was not much, but shadows were drawing near at a slow pace. Darin's hand moved to his sword and Telra dimmed to give Darin the advantage if it was an enemy. But neither of them could be prepared for what emerged. It tore at Darin's heart and made him gasp in horror.

"Oh, Darin," Telra whispered in disbelief.

 

[Diana]

THE ARCHON'S CHAMBERS - BARVELLE, royalblue

Eirene didn't immediately reply to Wolfsin. Her hands clasped together in front of her, as her head tilted slightly to the side. Her clear blue eyes examining him without apology or explanation. One could almost see the wheels turning in her head, and get a faint glimpse of her thoughts as she decided what she thought of the man. And as always, once her mind was made, she gave no inclination of what conclusion she came to. There was only a slight displeased twist of her mouth.

"You may have your maps, but we are not wasting men in the halls and doorways of Barvelle on the off chance I might walk through them. After all, you don't need to be everywhere, you only need to be where I am." And she was already moving to claim a heavy pair of fur-lined boots to tug them on her feet, despite the whimpering of her aux on her bed, and the incessant throat clearing of the elderly steward still lingering in the room.

"Marta, stop grinding your teeth, I am only going to walk. I can't think while lying idle in a bed." Eirene stood straight again, smoothing her hands over the fabric of her tunic dress. Her eyes were on Wolfsin again, narrowing as she stepped aside to grab her cloak and throw it around her shoulder. "We'll get your maps and discuss this... arrangement."

 

[Asmodeus]

​

The road was taken and the high ground clustered with shambling men and horses. Darin had no choice but to slow his steed and lead it off the path side. The flag of Pegulis was sailing high in tired arms. These were no bandits. Ice winds mauled the tunics of the Barvelle Guard, and militia armour clinked, dull and dirt-stained. The fewer walked while many more lay on stretchers and wagon planks. Their only warmth was from a coal-fired carriage that belched pale, red-blue smoke around them.

He saw it first in the horses. They were lame, blotches on their flanks, eyes clouded. And on the wagons, amid the bedridden, the stiller shapes of bodies wrapped in cloth. No single man or woman had a vivid Aux. Their spirit animals trudged alongside them, faded and silent.

He had seen these things before.

Plague.

At the column head, a black-clad horseman spied the Paladin and urged his mount to canter. And as if his leadership alone had kept them in motion, the remainder slumped to a halt and rested weakly in the snow. Darin kept his weapon hand ready and his reins tight as the horseman descended the slope towards him. But as he drew closer, the bearded, boil-ridden face of the man dispelled all fear. There would be no threat from his soldier.

The horseman stopped a distance from the Paladin, and raised a frail hand in greeting. "Traveller... please... if there is mercy in you, tell me... does this road lead to Barvelle?"

It was a plea as painful as any Darin had heard in the last few days - the tone of mothers and lepers seeking miracles. He nodded once and the horseman sagged in his saddle, a tearful relief as he clung to life. "Thank the gods. Our trackers died three nights ago. The Aux could not navigate." He lifted his head again. "I am Captain Anders of Barvelle. If I might borrow your horse... I swear you will have the gratitude of the Republic's Treasury."

Darin's mind whirled. The vengeance in his blood met the pity in his heart. He tightened his hand on the reins, and looked for words. But he was spared when another figure broke away from the convoy. It was a Forest Kin, no bigger than a human girl, borne on fairy wings which took her a short way before she fell into the snow. Getting up, dusting down her ragged pink dress, the woman rushed up to the pair.

"Oh really?!" the Forest Kin said to Captain Anders, as if she had heard the conversation perfectly from a distance. "You're going to take this man's horse and ride alone to Barvelle? You'll be dead before you reach the Marker Stone."

Of all the victims in the convoy, she seemed the healthiest. A hummingbird Aux darted between her wings, lit by the faint glow of white magic. She pointed a finger up at the captain. "I told you no more heroics. Stay close to the coal wagon. Those incenses I prepared are the only thing stopping this plague becoming airborne."

The captain was too weak to argue. As he slumped in defeat the Forest Kin managed the briefest smile to Darin. "Ethel Lysander, Sage of Barvelle. We're sorry to keep you, Si--"

She stopped suddenly, as if sensing something. Her wings fluttered a little and her pupils dilated. Ethel took a step closer to the Paladin and studied him intently.

"You have the Light too." It started as a murmur, then became a shout of joy. "YOU'RE A HEALER!"