Pegulis, Chapter 3

[unanun]

Meanwhile - the meeting gathers ...

The system of governance in Pegulis was the second of the Northern Archon's great achievements. In fact, it might as well have been the first, for uniting the scattered tribes of wizards and witches was only possible through representation. Each major city sent an Inner Council sage to represent its ideals and hopes. The inner council ensured that elected governors stayed true to their beliefs. The governors, in turn, were sent from each city, town and hamlet. They represented the wishes of the people who sent them there. A governors life was not an idle one full of corruption and bribery. They were required to make regular trips back to their home town, to answer to audits of their people. To be a governor was to make a sacrifice.

The Northern Archon rewarded membership in the Pegulis Nation in three primary ways. First, she rescued the decaying bloodlines of the scattered Northern mages. By finding one another, they could intermarry and renew the strength of their lineage, which had grown weak through inbreeding. Secondly, she offered all the miracle of thermic gems. Coming in many shapes and sizes, they emitted a steady and comfortable heat for months on end, before needing to recharge at Barvelle. Finally, she offered them Barvelle itself - a city almost built solely for the purpose of storing and disseminating knowledge. Arcane arts, natural philosophy, and ethics and morals were freely dispensed to anyone who could claim to be a citizen of Pegulis.

The General Assembly hall of Barvelle, the embodiment of all that was Pegulis. The deepest, largest cavern in the Barvelle mountains was not even half the required size, and had been enlarged over many years, carved around four great pillars as support. In the center was the speaking circle, an enchanted piece of stone that magnified the speaker in height and sound with illusion magic. Stars - or natural gem veins - glittered along the walls.

Governers from all over Pegulis hurriedly moved in to take their seats. They awaited the Aldus caravan: Ilsa, Castigarian, Vrein. They awaited those survivors from Medwick's doomed journey. And they awaited those who had issued the summons: the three Inner Sages.

 

[Wolfsin]

Barvelle

Wolfsin wasn't too fond of all of this, something just didn't seem to settle right with him being here in the safety of this city. Barvelle held nothing but scholars, and politicians it seemed, though recently a fair share of warriors had shown up. One such warrior was the lady Ilsa; she seemed to have a strong head on her shoulders, though he knew little outside her name. It had been a while since he'd met anyone that he thought might be able to hold their own in a fight with him so this above most things interested him, not that it mattered.

The Sage's still seemed to be conversing ahead of them, and some of the other guards were at it as well; this whole thing must have been a really big deal for all of them and it Made the large silver haired man feel very much like an Alien here. "A little bothersome I have to say, to be so far out of the loop but I expect that is what I should expect aye?" he spoke up targeting any of them that might hear him; it would probably get him some form of repercussion but at this point he didn't really care that much, this was not the place for him to be not when so much chaos was going on. "I hear things of ghouls, and sages, Dragons, War at our door step, and it should all be quite black and white but I am more confused than ever. its like when you give someone more information than necessary, but only in bits and pieces." A growl settled at his lips as he stepped after the Archon. She didn't seem to talk very much, and unless provoked his new Anima friend, Ethelwyn didn't have much to say either, the extent of the travel from one place to another was mainly composed to the silly bickering back and forth of the Elders and anyone else who followed. Still after saying what he needed to Wolfsin went silent again and continued on.

The thought of back when, how he had fought in small un-precedent-ed tournaments and gotten to test steel against stronger men, with less skill. The idea of fighting large creatures from unsuspecting travelers, the muse and thrill of combat, of battle the freedom of the forest, and the snowy highlands. These were all things that called to him, but duty was what held him stoic, and planted in his current position. The Archon had a great many things to deal with, and he knew that, but these others spent so much time just walking about, talking things over when they should have been more accurately chasing these troubles out of their snowy home land. Wolfsin would lead the charge himself given the right information and an able party of warriors with steel hearts.

Maybe... that was the point though, maybe they were about as lost as he was, and perhaps these damned meetings were MEANT for the purpose of information gathering. Still there wasn't much to do at the time, God's be scorned the moment he left to actually do something, would be the moment that the Archon met an untimely demise. Like hell Ethelwyn could fight; he expected and these book keepers and scholars? if something happened now he was the only one here that would stop it. That realization helped to calm his war born, burning blood at least. Wolfsin was crucial, a point that would mean the Archon's life and death in these rough times, and perhaps that was enough to keep him from following his instinct even if they were a relentless beast writhing within. A certain level of pride came with the fact.

"For this meeting lady Eirene... Will i be inside with you or sitting outside again. i know its not my place but I feel i have things to offer to your council. I know these lands and I know how to train soldiers. I would not ask to leave your service.. but I feel that if things are becoming as drastic as I am lead to believe, then allowing me a chance to pass some warriors wisdom along might help us in the long run."

Their pace continued to where they were going but Wolfsin made his point as clear as possible. he wanted to help obviously, but elders and the like all had their policies and Wolfsin likely wouldn't fall into them. His job was to guard her, but if it became that the only way to keep her alive was to trust his gut and leave someone else in charge of the task, so that he could help where he was TRULY needed.. then in a round about way he would just HAVE to justify 'abandoning' his duty. "I am asking you milady to please speak on my behalf and let me help where I can. that is all."

Of course leaving it at that. They continued.

Before long the party found themselves at the base of the innermost Mountain that comprised the city. The base made the damned thing look like it was built for a God to sit upon; it was a structure that dwarfed some of the other Mountains surrounding and making up Barvelle. Wolfsin took it all in and noted the gleam of some of the crystaline surface before they pushed through some chamber doors and found themselves winding down a Long and dark; yet well crafted tunnel network.

Eventually a shimmer of blue light could be seen, as well as the presence of a cold feeling of heat. The collaborated sound of whispers were easily present with Wolfsins unique sense of hearing and of course they were not anything he could decipher. he was getting used to things like that in the city of secrets. "I suppose this is it then?" The cave ceased and with it a gaping coliseum like fortress was seen. More robes and figures, and books and magic apparent... but it was still beautiful... for a damned library without books...

 

[fatalrendezvous]

Karissa Lisbon ― Aldus, Royalblue

Artorius had counted on Karissa being less observant than she actually was. Being a small child offered her the unique advantage of having a different viewing angle than most grown adults: Artorius' pockets seemed noticeably full.

Her eyes narrowed at the single coin that was passed back to Dane as she listened to the thief's story. As much as she wanted to believe him, she could sense something amiss. Something about his manner of dress, his hair, his voice, his accent (or lack thereof). She couldn't quite place it, but deep down she knew that story couldn't be true. The man, caught red-handed, continued to plead his case, speaking of falling upon hard times. Poor family, a passed mother, and a drunk for a father. Karissa had actually lost a parent, and found the idea that someone might use the excuse for pity to be absolutely disgusting.

The girl looked up at Dane, expectantly waiting to hear him chastise the man for stealing, then lying about stealing. But on the contrary, he seemed saddened, and... were those tears welling in his eyes? Staring in disbelief, Karissa wanted to say something but was shocked speechless. Dane believed him!

"Jeez, I'm sorry ta hear 'bout yer parents. Y'know what, go on ahead and keep the coin. Reckon yer family needs it a whole lot more 'n I do."

And he was apologizing! Karissa wanted to scream. But still, the catch in Karissa's throat prevented her from speaking. Instead, she tugged hard at Dane's arm, though he didn't seem to notice.

The thief bowed in false gratitude, words lined with saccharine. "Thank you so much, sir! Bless you!" The thief concealed a smirk before turning to leave. Dane reached up to scratch the back of his head as Artorius quietly skittered away. "Poor guy," he muttered. Finally, Karissa found her voice, practically shouting at Dane in frustration. "He's lying! And he stole more than just that coin!"

Dane, quickly coming to the realization that she was right after another check of the pockets, bolted off after the thief, with Karissa following close behind. The ensuing chase sent them down streets and alleyways, weaving around pedestrians, knocking over peddlers' wares. Artorius, knowing he'd be unable to lose his pursuers, decided instead to climb as he neared a dead end in an alleyway, with only a wall separating him from freedom.

Artorius scaled the wall quickly, but just as he was about to cross over, Dane managed to catch up. Dane's hand grabbed a hold of Artorius' ankle, pulling him down and off the wall as the thief came crashing back to the pavement with a satisfying thud. Karissa and her snow leopard Aux caught up shortly after, as all three took a moment to catch their breath.

Lifting Artorius by the collar and keeping a firm hold of him, Dane brought the thief in to the Aldus Watch headquarters, confident that his good deed might give Commander Marin some newfound faith in his abilities.

-----​

The raven-haired woman who was Ilsa's stand-in as Captain of the Guard was standing over a table, looking over some notes when Dane and Karissa entered, with Artorius in tow. "Ma'am! Caught this thief pickin' pockets out in the streets earlier." He released Artorius, dusting his hands off contentedly. "Guess his thievin' days are over now, huh?"

Marin looked up from her notes briefly, looking Artorius up and down as if to size him up. For a man whose jail time seemed imminent, Dane and Karissa couldn't help but notice that the thief remained strangely calm. No sob stories this time, no pleading.

Commander Marin looked back down at her papers without a word as her straight black hair slid down over in front of her shoulders. "You're free to go, Artorius. Tell Councilman Cale I said hello. And--" she looked up at the thief without lifting her head, dark chocolate eyes showing a hint of amusement. "Try to stay out of trouble."

A sly smile crept upon Artorius' lips. "Why thank you, Commander Marin. You know I do my best." He turned to leave, shooting a knowing smirk at Dane and Karissa, whose jaws may as well have been on the floor. Artorius strutted away cheekily, even with the gall to whistle as he strode off, a free man.

Marin, sensing the impending question, decided to preempt it. "You are both free to go."

 

[Porg]

Tavark

"It was a good plan."

"Yeah… right up until the point where both the dragon and the blacksmith were under heavy guard." Ture pointed out. It had been a hairy excursion for the Avian, he couldn't run very fast and was prone to hitting the metal cuff on things and making more noise than he wanted.

"Yeah well you could have tried to get something out of it."

"Yeah I also could have got my head cut off!"

"Details details."

"Well, worst case scenario, we now have a quiet escape route." Dion interjected, tilting his head towards the Aux-made hole hidden in the shadows in the back of the hall. It lead into a cellar of what had been a tavern before the occupation had claimed such items it would need to be considered as such.

Ture yanked grabbed a rock and brought it down against the iron bangled. It made a weak ringing and now bore a scratch but was otherwise completely untouched. Ture dropped the rock and slumped.

 

[Asmodeus]

Barvelle Governor's Assembly

"Miss Lysander!"

"Please answer the question."

Ethel was dizzy. In the illusion magics of the Speaker's Circle, her five-foot frame was magnified to three times its size, and likewise her voice. Every throat-clearing, sniff and stutter was broadcasted in exquisite detail. Being larger than the thronging audience of governors should have lent her confidence; yet in the space of enchantment their eyes kept scale. They felt huge, peering into her, examining her every nuance.

"I..." She cleared her throat again. "I believe the Ghoul Sage... is the greatest threat we have faced since the Cataclysm."

Murmurs orbited. On the remaining three cardinal points of the Speaker's Circle, in line with massive pillars supporting the chamber, the three High Sages gestured for calm. They were each their city's embodiment: Michel the hunched and twisted body of Aldus, clutching a heavy tome where the minutes of this forum were self-scribing. Helena in the ceremonial armour of Tavark, a bow slung across her shoulders as symbol of the eternal hunt. And Arktus, pale white and serene, arms folded in his sleeves, unshakeable as Barvelle itself.

"I stood with Medwick in the Untoward Tower, in the peaks of the Norsigal Steps." Ethel raised her voice to calm the murmurs. "We saw it together - visions of what this man had done. The Dragon that attacked Barvelle was summoned by the Ghoul Sage, as was the one that struck Tavark. And the Golem that attacked Captain Ilsa..." She glanced beyond the circle, to the curve of seats where Ilsa waited to give testimony. "We fought the same golems at the Tower..."

"Miss Lysander," Michel spoke each word with emphasis, like a teacher bringing his class to order. He raised one wizened hand which was magnified to giant proportions by the circle. "You are an apprentice of the Ecologists Order. It is only natural that you look at things holistically. It is your creed. Yet your insistence that these events are connected is immature. Why, the people of the Blue Republic are subject to countless attacks by the beasts of the wild every day..."

"With respect," Ethel's hummingbird aux flapped its wings harder as she fought to hold her own in the conference. "It is precisely because I am a biologist that I see these times with clarity." Her stare flicked to Helena. "You know the Deppler Fish of Lake Kaikas? The mother works to distract larger prey by swimming into its eyeline. And meanwhile, the smaller fish - it's own spawn - deliver attacks to the fins and nervous system with their stinger barbs. This way a family of Deppler Fish work together to cripple other animals, and win enough food to last a month."

Laughter greeted the analogy in certain quarters. Ethel spun and pointed to the front row, where Captain Anders, the one-time leader of Medwick's expedition, sat in hooded robe with his hands atop a walking cane. "The plague contracted by Captain Anders and the other volunteers was tailor-made. It was designed to stop the expedition and make it turn back. And were it not for the intervention of Sir Darin Estrigg, that plague would still be contagious, and Barvelle would have been infected. The same systematic attacks have now separated us from Aldus and Tavark."

She practically shouted to eclipse the objections of the governors. "WE ARE BEING DESTROYED."

More uproar. This time it was Arktus, the Calm Sage, who unfurled his hands from his sleeves and lifted them for quiet. "Dear Child, no one is questioning the severity of these events. Nonetheless, it is a trait of youth to seek epitome. The apocalyptic holds fascination with the young-blooded. That is why we suffered the Cataclysm. But now..." He turned to encompass all the governors. "Now we are older and wiser. Nothing is to be gained from national panic. That is the very path we must avoid."

"Death to Pegulis."

The room fell silent. All eyes returned to Ethel.

"That is what the Ghoul Sage said, when he ripped Medwick's arm from its socket. The Ghoul Sage knows us. He has studied us, from the Untoward Tower and perhaps countless others scrying places. The magic of the golems and the magic Mister Castigarian found in the Utandis Cave - its is older and more powerful than anything we have known in our own bloodlines." She looked again to Arktus. "You speak of paths to avoid... yet he is leaving us none. He is severing the paths that we can choose, and herding us like cattle to one direction."

A tear broke. She shuddered and stopped. Now it was Helena who interceded and raised a hand before the subject could be pursued further.

"What of Medwick, Miss Lysander? What path will he follow?"

The forestkin sniffed and composed her giant form once more. "As I told the Archon, when the expedition first set out: the dragon that attacked Barvelle had traces of divine metal in its belly. These traces were mixed with the bones of a Sendris Whale. My hypothesis is that the dragon, before it was summoned, had subsisted on a diet of fish from the Southern Margin of the Prosperos, where the whales are prominent. The divine metal has a composition identical to the Shards of Libras - an arco-conductive metal found in Barvelle's own mountains and used in the crystallization of thermic gems."

"And as I told the Archon..." Michel interjected. "..when this whole affair began, we are making too many leaps in our reasoning. The slaughter-masters have been dissecting the dragon for six days, and there is no one conclusion about its dietary history. There are many compounds in the dragon's tract, but none in sufficient quantity to prove a definitive..."

"NONE IN SUFFICIENT QUANTITY, YES!" Ethel's shout was alarming. The Speaker's Circle was not a place for outbursts. The governors bristled as she became animated with anger. "It's almost as if that Dragon was a MOTHER, and was diverting the essential compounds to her EGGS! Of course, we won't be able to prove that because a GODS-DAMNED ICE GOLEM BROKE INTO BARVELLE, ATTACKED THE NORTHERN ARCHON, AND STOLE THE BLOODY BLOODY BLOODY EGGS BEFORE WE COULD PROVE ANYTHING!"

The chamber was in uproar again. Jeers and laughter took the audience in waves, and Ethel's closing comments were lost in the din.

"I await the day that Medwick returns with a Divine Weapon and saves us all. I just hope the Ghoul Sage hasn't turned you all into icicles by then!"

The forestkin's form twisted and shrunk to its normal proportion as she stormed from the Speaker's Circle and flung herself into a seat between Ilsa and Captain Anders.

 

[Navras]

Aldus - Azareth Searching

Bowing his head to the council members, Azareth turned and headed towards the door. The five of them hadn't had anything important to say, merely a check up on how he was adjusting to his position and a few orders on how to spend his time. Nothing of interest, nothing of importance. Moving on. He needed to get back to the library as quickly as possible, but first he needed to talk to the assistant Nathaniel...

Walking the halls of the council building was becoming less and less of an ordeal the more time he spent there. Its wide halls and high ceilings becoming more and more familiar to him, he was beginning to form a mental map of the place. He made a note to find the blue prints to the building if he could so that he could memorize them. As he made his ways through the halls, a young man with a cocky and confident look on his face as if he'd just gotten away with something came walking towards him. Doubtless it was to go past him, the bandaged scholar paid him no mind as he made his way along.

*************​

"You have it then I take it?"

"Y-yes... I have it right here." Azareth held out his hand and the red headed assistant to the mayor, Nathaniel, passed the scroll he was holding out to the bandaged scholar. They were not far from the library, only a few corridors away but it had taken the scholar some time to track down the boy. It would seem the mayor kept him quite busy, which was good in a way but bad in another. He would need to be more available in the future. Another note was made to make sure that happened... "Why could you not come and get this yourself though?"

"Ah, it would seem that my new position keeps me more occupied than I could have anticipated. Finding the time to do things of my own accord is a rare treat these past couple of days. Aldus must be run by someone though, do you not agree?" Azareth told the boy, a smile in his voice even if none could be seen through his mask. "I suppose..." he said, nibbling on the corner of his lip nervously.

It happened in an instant.

Stepping forward, Azareth touched Nathaniel's shoulder and the boy's eyes went wide in sudden shock and fear. What images must have been racing through his mind, what sounds, what myriad of unseen truths? It lasted only for a moment, long enough for the eye to blink and then it was severed. Azareth walked past the boy, leaving him shaking on his feet. Turning around on the spot, dizzy and woozy, Nathaniel called out, "What did you do to me just now!?"

The court scholar stopped, the scroll now under his cloak, and turned to look at the boy. "Whatever do you mean?" he asked innocently. The assistant pointed an accusing finger at the cloaked scholar, his hand shaking from the mental shock and saying, "When you touched me, just now, I saw... I-I heard... by the dead gods, what has been put into my mind!?"

A twitch of the aux. Silky, soft words that floated through the air to meet with the boy; "What are you saying lad? You must be tired beyond belief, as I am. I've done nothing to you in the slightest, and you look oh so pale. You should go lay down and rest, forget about what's happened today. Tomorrow is just around the corner after all..."

Bowing his head again, Azareth turned and headed down the hall, leaving the assistant to shiver and walk away, believing that he was too tired and that he needed to rest. Far form it. The seed had been planted, now all that was needed was a bit of nurturing. Yes, it was in motion now and picking up speed. Reaching into his cloak as he turned a corner, Azareth untied the twine that bound the scroll Nathaniel had given him and looked over the contents of the thing. Just as he had asked for: A list of the members of the city watch and their regular routines while on duty. This would be useful to him...

 

[Diana]

Barvelle Governor's Assembly, royalblue

The Grand Assembly Hall may have been Eirene's favorite place in Barvelle. But it wasn't the beauty of the architecture painstakingly chiseled in to the mountain stone. Or the incredibly feats of sorcery that made this conference hall the most advanced structure in all of Pegulis. What she loved was the gathering of people. Individuals from the very outskirts of their nation brought together in to one place to share their knowledge and concerns. This was what she always wanted. People working together for the same goal.

Where she presently sat, with her hands folded gracefully in her lap and Skadi poised and alert at her side, she could see nearly every face in the Grand Hall. This was important. While a speaker had the podium, they also had the attention of the room. All eyes focused on a single location. ...and her eyes would be on them. A person could speak volumes through their expressions and body language without having to utter a word. Eirene could gleam who found Ethel Lysander's information concerning and who thought it was nonsense. When she was very lucky, she might even see something more. Here and there she would catch a face, someone impassive, unreadable. A miniscule and fleeting something that she found odd.

Their names were tucked away somewhere in her mind as Ethel Lysander finished her speech on an emotional note. Eirene's brow furrowed, while those final words echoed through her thoughts. Distracts it's prey... cut off from Aldus and Tavark... There was still more to hear from Ilsa and Captain Anders. Only when she heard all that needed to be said, would she herself finally speak.

One of Skadi's ears turned back at the sound of shuffling behind. Eirene turned her head a fraction, mirroring the motion. Wolfsin was standing directly behind her. She could feel his boredom and frustration with his task with every huff he made. His presence was distracting, but necessary. With so many worried about her safety, she wanted to ease their fears so that they could focus on the more important issues at hand.

Skadi didn't feel the need to be vexed by Wolfsin's presence, however. The white wolf rose and padded a few feet away to a shadowed alcove where Ethelwen was told he may stay and listen in on the meeting. She plopped next to his feet, thumping her tail gently on the floor. Contrast to her unwanted guardian, Eirene had an interest in Ethelwen. The anima seemed to share her passion for learning things. Granting him access to the Grand Assembly Hall would give him a rare opportunity. And in exchange...? Time would tell.

There seemed to be one person missing, however. General Coul. His absence from a meeting that concerned the safety of Barvelle and it's sister cities was concerning. Nothing could be more important than this conference at the moment.

 

[OverCast]

Tavark - Past

Eimund's presence haunted him as he was approached. It was as if the man was the living embodiment of fear. As Eimund passed, Durael readied himself to be struck down, fearing that he had been deemed useless by the leader of the raid. When the man had grabbed him by the shoulder and lead him out of the building, he let out an audible sigh of relief. He had realized that he had been holding his breath since Rath had gotten within 5 feet of him. As he exited the building, he was immediately surrounded by a small group of guards who wore furs. The guards were almost on top of him as they walked, and his vision of the city was somewhat obscured by the taller men who surrounded at the moment. A smell that was all to common in Durael's life filled the fresh morning air as they walked. Whale Fat, the fuel he used when experimenting with new forms of fire magic. A short walk later, Durael was prompted into a townhouse.

Up the stairs he went, where his eyes widened at the sight of Darin, whom he had assumed dead. "God's work must not be disturbed." he was confused, but also too surprised to see Darin in such a state to speak. Why did they have the corpse of a random man who came to Tavark in search of a few people on a list? While he wanted answers, he was not in a position to be asking the questions. His wide eyes now looked to the man who spoke. He looked ill, and his robes looked ancient. A small... Creature descended from the sleeve of the man in front of him. As it left the man's arms, it moved onto Darin's neck, where it seemed to cover the wound that he had left. It was only after the second time Durael looked Darin over that he saw the dim glow of his Aux. His mouth opened in complete shock; the man he had just moments earlier killed now slept on the bed before him, alive.

Before he could make any mention of this, Eimund finished speaking: "...Says he's capable." The moment that his eyes met with Suvius' eyes, he was afraid. The man's stare was unnerving. His courage plummeted; the man before him had seen things Durael could not even conjure up in his own imagination. He froze, not because the guards behind him had audibly readied themselves to kill him, but because in the current moment he was so filled with fear that he could not move. Suvius appoached.

Durael shut his eyes and waited for death as the sorcerer reached out to him, open palm. Was he casting a spell? As his hand met Durael's forehead, he felt a burning sensation. In the next moment it was almost as if he was without his armor, completely vulnerable to any attack. He had no protection from anything: swords, arrows, magic, you name it. At almost the same time the burning peaked, it ended, and the sorcerer's hand returned to his side. "Pyromancer. Dragon-touched. We can use him."

Tavark

Durael had a hard time resting. After a good meal, he was back at full output magically. A loud crunching noise filled the space as Darin was tossed onto the ground of the slaughterhouse. Durael looked at the dragon, it was the first time he had ever seen one outside of books. He was not completely worried about it; the beast was chained up, and Eimund would not have come down here if it was incredibly dangerous; the death of Rath might have meant the death of whatever they planned.

Near him, Eimund ran him through what he was expected to do, and what the reward would be. Fire versus Ice wouldn't be particularly hard. The dragon bled ice, which was likely not average ice, but perhaps magically enhanced. Snow didn't take long to melt, but he his mind kept settling on the thought the he would not be able to handle all of the abilities that the dragon possessed at once. As Eimund spoke, Durael kept himself busy as he drew an arcane circle on the ground, large enough to stand in. This circle would be his domain while he conjured more powerful fire spells. Suvius uttered a few incantations, and the anchor chains tightened around the ice-dragon, bringing it down. Eimund instructed Darin to heal the dragon, and then grabbed it by it's snout. Eimund had just grabbed a damn dragon by its snout.

He remembered his father saying to him long ago; "You can either respect me, or fear me."

Durael respected and feared Eimund.

Tavark

His attention turned to Darin, who defied Eimund's orders to heal the dragon. The raider beside him seemed to be having fun with the task of whipping Darin into submission. The raider went to scourge Darin again, but in mere seconds, the raider was disarmed by the Paladin, and pushed onto Durael. The raider landed on Durael, but was pushed off within moments of his impact. Durael struggled to get to his feet, stunned by what just happened. His eyes searched the room for Darin, but he could not find him.

 

[Noctis the Devious]

Tavark

"Oh for crying out loud," Amara growled. "Plan A doesn't turn out well so now we give up? What the hell is wrong with you people?! A whole freak'n city is at stake here! My home is at stake here. So stop moaning and groaning about the possibility of losing your head when people are losing much more than that and continue to loose more as we speak! Hell, I bet there's people out there who would rather lose their heads and more who would die to get their hands on the opportunity that we have.

"Yeah, the forge is guarded; what the hell did you expect? That they would leave a valuable resource wide open for anyone to use? Oh, hey, your great overlord of madness kind of grounded my friend here, mind if we borrow the forge for a bit? Morons! All of you!" The huntress stood with her hands clenched in tight fists at her sides, seething. Standing on her shoulder with his paw-like hands folded over his staff was Tang, regarding the group with both disappointment and disapproval. How dare they give up after the first attempt? She needed to get to her mother - needed to know she was okay - and this was the only she could possibly do so, yet the men she was stuck with thought wallowing in self pity was apparently a better alternative to actually escaping. "The forge might he the easiest and most efficient way to get that weight off your leg, Ture, but can't be the only way."

Ture eyed Amara wearily, somehow not liking the direction her little outburst was heading. "What are you suggesting exactly?"

"How about we get creative and see what's inside those fancy thermogems?" While even she herself doubted her plan, it was something. But getting a hold of some stones would be difficult and getting them to crack open even more so. Then there was no actual guarantee what was in them would be hot enough to melt the iron. But it's something, she firmly told herself. Though, she had to ask herself, would it be easier to storm the forge than get a hold of some stones? "Unless any of you lot have a better idea?" she thought to inquire with a raise eyebrow, looking from one face to the next. "In any case we need to get our act together. We've wasted too much time as it is just standing around chit chatting. We should split up and fulfill our objectives that way. After all, we do need to get to that dragon still and time is running out."

It'd be fantastic if I could get my weapons or even my pouches back too. Unfortunately, it appeared that would have to wait.

 

[Lord Wraith]

M'VAE DON - TAVARK, blue

M'Vae paced and back and forth watching the scene unfold in front of him. Rath as per usual was demonstrating just how crazy he was and why he remained the unchallenged leader of this rabble. Keeping one paw on the long dagger he had taken from the great hall, the Anima watched the Paladin as he shot Durael a dark look. The mage was supposed to have killed the paladin hours ago and yet the thorn in his side sat beside him on the ground. He only wished that the whip was doing more damage as it lashed the 'noble' knight's back while he refused orders from Rath.

Growling, M'Vae began to grow anxious and fed up with the paladin's refusal and just as he was about to take matters into his own hands, Darin made a move of his own.

"Fool!" M'Vae snarled as Darin tackled his tormentor and made a break for it. Pushing aside a guard who had stumbled backwards, M'Vae drew his bow as he lined up a shot for Darin who was going out the door. "Get down!" M'Vae roared but the men didn't move in time as Darin escaped. Dropping the large sword off his back to loose some weight, M'Vae pushed through the crowd as he burst out the door himself and took off at full tilt to catch Darin. Drawing the knife from his hip, M'Vae closed the gap towards Darin as he leaped through the air towards his target.

 

[Peregrine]

ETHELWEN-BARVELLE, royalblue

The closer Ethelwen got to the Council Chambers the more he kept expecting to be turned away, and the more he hoped he would be able to remain. He had already been granted one privileged today, getting to stay and listen to the Inner Council discuss the passage of events in Pegulis, but then it had just been the three sages, the Archon, and the few people they had chosen to question. Now they would be standing before the whole governing body of Pegulis. Could they really justify his presence?

Apparently they could. Just outside the doors and he still hadn't been told to leave. The Archon turned to look at him and beckoned him forward, sequestering him between herself, Wolfsin, and someone from the back. His hood flipped up over his head, lengthened and darkened, until it almost resembled some of the capes that the various governors. Sheltered between the various important figures, no one looked twice at Ethelwen. He kept his tail in close to his legs, and allowed himself a deep breath. It was very, very hard to say whether or not he had ever had a more exciting day.

When they grew close to the seating of the Archon and the Inner Council, a small motion of Eirene's hand was enough to get him to slip off to the side and duck into a shaded alcove. He was quietly informed that he could listen and watch from there before the Archon departed. He nodded vigorously and pushed himself a little further into the shadows. He understood exactly what an opportunity he was being granted, and he would not risk it by being seen by someone with roaming eyes.

A part of him still couldn't believe that he was here, listening to the most important people in the nation discuss the fate of their country. He had been told that Pegulis granted an equal opportunity to everyone who could claim citizenship, but he hadn't truly understood what "equal opportunity" meant until that minute. He wanted to know everything and anything there was to know about Pegulis, about magic, about the life of these northern people, but he had never expected everyone to be so... accommodating. It felt like there was something growing in his chest, a tiny seed of hope. He quickly turned his mind away from that feeling, and back to the room. There would be a lot of listening, but that was one thing Ethelwen was very, very good at. He only wished he had his pen, and a piece of paper or ten.

The Ghoul Sage. He was at the forefront of everyone's mind as Ethel spoke, her voice impassioned. Whether they believed her or not, they thought about him. Ethelwen thought about him too, his mind drifting back to a little over a week ago, when he had lain on the floor, certain that he was about to see the Archon killed before his very eyes, when the eggs had still sat in a small, diamond shell he had made for them. The dark figure, an empty hood that seemed to have no back, the cold voice. The black dust, as his diamond fell away to nothing, freeing the eggs for the Ghoul Sage to take.

A shiver ran down his spine, although he didn't know where it came from. At that moment, he was inclined to believe Ethel. Perhaps there was no one more dangerous to the fate of this world than the Ghoul Sage. Those governors hadn't seen his silhouette leaning over them, hadn't heard his voice. They couldn't understand.

It was a relief when Skadi came and laid down next to him, something to break him from the dark spiral of his thoughts. Had he been able to touch her, he would have bent down and rubbed behind her ears fondly. Maybe. He would want to, that was for sure. Whether or not he would have the nerve.... But, ultimately, the question was irrelevant. He couldn't.

"Thank you for letting me stay," he finally contented himself with telling her, before turning his eyes back to the assembly.

 

[4everDifferent]

Tavark
Darin's feet pounded on the dirt ground as he rounded a corner and ran down a small alley. Adrenaline and the endorphins being pumped into his body by his 'bandage' being the only things that kept him going. He had to get out of Tavark that was his only chance. He cursed him self for getting into this situation. He had been so close to his goal and his thirst revenge had almost got him killed.

The sound of boots against the street announced a pursuer, "Darin!" Telra warned.

"I know," he answered. His eyes scanned for escape there was no way he was fighting if he could avoid it. The footsteps grew louder.

"Darin!" She called out again.

"I know!" He looked and smiled. There were thick cloth covers serving as shelter down the alley. With renewed vigor he pushed on. Just a bit more! He heard the footprints grow louder just before Telra called out again.

"DARIN!" She cried, and then the footsteps ended.

Darin smiled as he swung his sword hard into the thin wooden poll cutting through the poll and dropping the heavy overhang on his pursuer. Darin cut hard to the left to avoid the attack and into another alley, bouncing off the wall with a grunt.

He didn't turn to check if his trap had worked. To do so, could have been the death of him. His feet carried him quickly down the alley. He tore through a door and into a house full of people. He hurried through and out the window into another street. Suddenly he grew dizzy. Not yet!

 

[Voices of Nerat]

Dane Myros - Aldus, gold

He couldn't believe what was happening. She was letting him go, just like that? The whole point of their job was to keep the peace in the city, was it not? And yet this cutpurse, who had the nerve to steal from one of the watchmen themselves was being let off with not even a slap on the wrist, like nothing had happened.

Dane looked from the commander, to the equally outraged girl standing next to him, then back to Marin again. He tried to object in some way, but the words never quite able to form on his lips. Not even deigning to look up from her notes, the interim watch captain waved her hand dismissively at the two. "I said, you're both free to go. That means you're free to leave this office. I'll make it an order if I have to, if the two of you insist on standing there gawking all day."

Balling his hands into fists, the light from his signet flared up alongside his agitation. The country boy was smoldering, looking about ready to start a shouting match with his commanding officer, as futile as he knew it would be. Sensing his growing discontent, Karissa tugged at his sleeve, hoping she could dissuade him to do otherwise. "It's not worth it," she whispered quietly, shaking her head. "Let's just go, Dane."

Looking down to her, he nodded his head ever so slightly, exhaling in frustration. "Yer right." Turning on his heel, he followed her out the doorway, muttering his displeasure under his breath. "Just ain't right, I tell ya... don't matter who ya are..."

The commander gave them no final regard as they left.

-----​

"Dane, are you alright?" Karissa had never seen him like this, usually he was a rather cheery fellow and that angry scowl on his face seemed so very unfitting. He'd thrown open the front door of the headquarters with such force, but the door caught on its creaky hinges and nearly smacked him in the face on the rebound.

"Gods damned thing!" he growled, holding it in place as he slid past. Still panting in anger, he caught sight of the concerned looking girl staring his way, his expression softening somewhat. He sighed again, shaking his head at his own behavior. Way to set a good example.

"Ah, shucks... I'm sorry, Karissa. I 'spose I just ain't keen on lettin' a slippery fella like that guy get away with summin' like that, n'matter who they are or who they know." Looking more than a little embarrassed, he strode over her way, rubbing the back of his neck. "Ain't no excuse for actin' like a little kid, though." He paused a brief moment, rethinking his last thought. "Er, I mean... well, ya know what I mean." She let out a meek chuckle, nodding.

Dane glanced up at one of the city's famous looming spires, eyes treated to the pleasing view of their likeness silhouetted by the warm light of dawn's sunset. It just then occurred to him how late it was starting to get, having lost track of time during all this hullabaloo. "Think it's time we get ya home, yer nana's prolly worried sick 'bout ya." Motioning his head in the direction of the Lisbon household, the two made their way.

-----​

"Y'all take care!"

Dane waved one final goodbye to Karissa and her grandmother, who were still standing at their doorstep as he walked away. They'd invited him in for dinner, a hearty pot of elk stew that wafted a delicious scent he could detect even as they were coming down the street, the smell itself enough to make his mouth water... it would've been impossible for him to refuse.

The three had had a lovely time, trading anecdotes and jokes around the table and near the warmth of the hearth. For the first time since he'd come to Aldus, he truly felt like it was a home, like he had some connection with the city and the people within it. Staring thoughtfully at the darkening sky as he walked, a thin smile spread across his face, a feeling of contentment washing over him; something that he hadn't felt in quite some time. Maybe he could learn to like this place after all.

"You look pretty happy, friend. Glad you're not still sore about earlier."

Dane was torn from his contemplations by a familiar voice, echoing from a nearby alleyway. Out of the shadows slipped the would-be pickpocket Artorius, giving the off-duty watchman a cocky grin. Dane's smile twisted into a frown, eyes narrowing at the thief. "The heck d'you want?"

Art leaned against the stone wall of the alley, tossing a small pouch up and catching it in the same hand. A sly grin formed on his lips. "You seem like a nice enough guy, and as a man of watch I wouldn't want there to be any hard feelings between you and I. So, I thought I'd treat you to a mug of ale at the Rusty Tankard."

"Treat me? With summin' else's money? I ain't gonna let you spend yer ill-gotten gains on me." The nerve of this guy! Bad enough he had to ruin his evening by showing up, but now he was going to play it off like nothing happened?

The sneaky little devil laughed, shaking his head. "How many people in this city earn their coin the honest and respectable way, you think? But no, I haven't had a chance to alleviate anyone else of their hard earned money today. I've been rather busy at city hall all evening, though I use the term 'busy' lightly." Striding over to Dane, he'd clap his hand on the man's shoulder, the only response being a wary raise of the eyebrow. "Please, give me a chance to apologize properly."

Dane had an uneasy look about him, but with one last sigh, he finally gave in. At least he'd be able to keep an eye on this shady character, stop him from potentially doing anything else illegal. "Fine, but I'll be watchin' them hands, mister. No funny business."

"I wouldn't dream of it."

 

[fatalrendezvous]

Ilsa Lisbon ― Barvelle, Indigo

Ilsa steeled her resolve. If Ethel's speech before the Assembly was any indication, it would be difficult to convince these scholars and politicians that danger was indeed imminent. Briefly, her thoughts wandered on her daughter Karissa, who, even at a young age had a natural talent for convincing others of the truth. Ilsa wished she could be here, though perhaps for more than just that reason.

As the agitated Ethel retook her seat, Ilsa gave her a gentle, reassuring pat on her shoulder and stood up. She walked into the Speaker's Circle, taking a moment to re-orient herself and adjust as the rest of the room seemed to shrink while she tripled in size. For several long, silent moments, she looked upon the now comparatively small Assembly before speaking.

Accustomed to speaking loudly when addressing large groups, she failed to account for the volume amplification. "I am Ser Ilsa Lisbon." Ilsa boomed, voice echoing against the walls. She paused and cleared her throat as the unusually loud sentence bounced around in the chambers, prompting her to make a mental note to lower her voice. Speaking normally now, she continued. "Captain of the Aldus Watch."

Ilsa was uncomfortable. In her eyes, the enchantment circle was a crutch; meant for those who were too small, too afraid, voices too soft, to address the eyes and ears of many. It was a crutch she refused to use. Bowing her head respectfully, Ilsa took several steps back as the illusion dissipated, and the crowd murmured amongst itself as Ilsa, at her normal height, stood behind the boundaries of the Speaker's Circle.

She raised her voice again, this time allowing it to project naturally, just as it would across the snowy fields of Aldus. "Excuse my breach of customs. As I'm sure you might imagine, addressing many is far easier for me this way." Her gaze fell on Ethel and Castigarian as she dove right into the heart of the matter.

"Miss Lysander speaks the truth. Pegulis is in danger. While we sit idle, the Ghoul Sage plots. Every moment of inaction is another moment won by the Ghoul Sage, and lost by Pegulis." More whispers followed at this notion. "The Council of Aldus tasked me with arranging a military caravan to assist Barvelle in war preparations."

Arktus lifted a hand, with the dual purpose of quieting the murmurs, as well as to denote his question. "Let us address everything one at a time, Captain. What leads you to believe it is, in fact, the Ghoul Sage who is targeting Pegulis?"

"Miss Lysander spoke of the Untoward Tower; one of the other survivors, a draken named Arcantos, accompanied us on the journey to Barvelle. He identified the magic as that of the Ghoul Sage. I believe the Ghoul Sage's intent was to prevent us from reaching Barvelle. He almost succeeded." A noticeable quiver in Ilsa's voice accompanied her next sentence. "Of the ninety who departed Aldus, only fourteen arrived."

Helena was the next to speak. "Prevent you from reaching Barvelle, for what purpose?"

Ilsa shook her head, not fully knowing the answer to that herself. "I do not know. I believe because he is trying to prevent us from discovering..." Her brow furrowed. "The keys." A grimace crossed her face as she mentioned the word, as even now the memory of the booming voice from the Utandis Cradle was painful to recall. The words were cryptic and in some strange, archaic language, words whose meaning was not understood, but rather felt. Explaining, she continued. "A voice spoke to us while we were trapped beneath Fissura Pass. From the Utandis Cradle." Her eyes shifted to the three Sages, knowing that this admission might reveal that she had been listening to them convene earlier. "It mentioned something of unity, and of the keys - the Divine Weapons - being the solutions to achieving, and maintaining unity."

The crowd spoke amongst itself once again, some of disbelief, most of dismissal. Few believed.

"Perhaps," Ilsa hypothesized, "the Divine Weapons are not weapons of war, but rather tools for peace?"

Michel, the Tome Sage, shook his head. "Now is not the time for conjecture, Captain. Tell us, what of Arcantos? What happened to him?"

Ilsa cast a sorrowful glance at Ethel before responding. "He is dead. Consumed by some foul magic - most likely also the Ghoul Sage's doing. It twisted and defiled him into an abomination, and he turned on us." Ilsa nodded her head to Castigarian in acknowledgement. "If not for the actions of Castigarian Gredihm, we likely all would have died beneath Fissura Pass."

 

[Asmodeus]

Tavark

"DURAEL!" Eimund's shout drew the pyromancer back to the slaughterhouse floor, keeping him still as M'Vae and other raiders rushed out in pursuit of Darin. "Forget the paladin. Join me." The Lord spoke as he held the dragon's face, eyes locked with its own, advent magic coursing from the bone gauntlets to its silver scales. "Sear the dragon's wounds. Close them."

Durael knew Eimund's intent. If the paladin would not heal the dragon, then it would have to patched. Better a weakened war-beast than a dead one.

"Do it, Kaustiran. Cauterize the wounds!"

By the opposite pillars, Master Suvius was in unbroken rapture, arms outstretched and raking the chains with eldritch light. His chanting filled the room. By incantation and beast mastery, the dragon would yield. The taming was almost complete.

Tavark

Dion hissed a warning, a few seconds before the doors of the grainstore flew open. In that brief moment, Sithik and Milo had veiled the hole down into the cellar.

Ice winds howled through the room, bringing whimpers before the raiders even entered. And when they did, it was with din and savagery.

"Just the women."

In black furs and hard-wrought armour, the raiders shook the floorboards as they fanned out. Whimpers turned to screams. Girls of healthy age were plucked from their families, infants slapped from their arms, hair and limbs seized. There were up to a dozen of them, and they claimed equal number, dragging women into the open.

"Leave them be!" Dion rose for an instant to their defense, before a gauntlet slammed his jaw. Galain and Airis caught the guildmaster as he fell. Ture, likewise, made a fleeting show of valour as he saw Amara's arm taken. He grabbed her other and tried to haul her back, but in an instant pinprick metal speared his throat. The avian was forced back against the wall, a bolt to his jugular. It rested upon taut strings, a crossbow primed and wielded by a raider.

"Give me a reason." The voice was as steady as the trigger finger. Ture did not move. He kept his face against the stone.

In the corner of his eye, Amara was dragged to her feet and out into the snow. She went the way of seven other women.

A boot found Ture's sternum. He doubled over in agony next to Dion and the two were sheltered by their guildmates as the raiders withdrew. The doors were slammed shut, the wind cut out and leaving them to sobbing silence. Their number had dwindled yet again.

"There!" Outside, a raider shoved Amara ahead with the other women. They were being corralled towards a wagon, laden with rancid meats. Oxen steaks, mutton chops and whole pigs. The skinned carcasses were drawing vermin. "You get to feed our new friend."

The first woman was ushered to pick up a slab of meat and drag it onwards, towards the building across the square. The slaughterhouse, which even now seemed to pulse with arcane power.

Amara's hair was seized. "Feed the pet, girl. Then I'll feed you." She was flung towards the stinking wagon.

 

[LVL1337N00B]

Artorius Cale - Aldus, burlywood

As the sun made its retreat so too did most of the city's residents, it would seem. The two men making their way to the Rusty Tankard had carried on quietly for a while, Art staring upward at the night sky while Dane kept his eyes on him. He'd been watching the scoundrel since they'd set off for the tavern, intent on making sure he kept his hands to himself. The guardsman was content to spare his breath for the time, understandably still frustrated with his current company, but said company appeared to be a little unsettled by the silence.

"Nice night, huh?", Artorius asked as they made their way through the noticeably less busy streets, glancing over at the fellow whose stare he was all too aware of. As simple as the question was, Dane seemed wary of the man asking as if he had some ulterior motive that'd mean trouble for him sooner or later. Maybe he did, now that he thought about it. How often did a crook decide to go out drinking with the guy who tried to have him jailed? The thought was troubling.. "Oh come on, it's not like I'm dragging you off someplace quiet to snuff you out. I doubt my family name carries enough weight to excuse murder."

That certainly didn't help to settle the nerves.

Artorius shook his head and smirked, moving closer to Dane and slipping an arm over his shoulder in a chummy manner. The more physically fit man tensed up initially and almost stopped in his tracks but soon exhaled and let his shoulders slump, trying to relax a little. "I guess not.. I doubt Commander Marin'd turn a blind eye from somethin' that serious, no matter who ya are..", Dane reassured himself, eyes going wide after a moment of thought, "Er, not that I'm sayin' I'd figure you for the murderin' sort nohow!"

Art raised a brow, somewhat puzzled by the guardsman's follow-up. To a just man like Dane, he ought to be little more than criminal scum after today, why would he bother to spare insult toward the thief? More thought on that later perhaps. They'd arrived at their destination in any case.

--

As the pair of young men headed inside a few patrons took a moment from their drinking to wave or offer a brief verbal greeting to Artorius, his was a familiar face in this establishment. Not that it was one everyone in the tavern was happy to see, mind. Some turned to face opposite him as he came in, some grunted their disapproval. One woman with dark skin and pointed ears glared at him as he leaned against the bar, making a little small talk as the man on the other side filled a couple of mugs for him. He grabbed the drinks and made his way to the table where Dane waited for him.. Perhaps against his better judgment.. Winking at the woman on the way there. She pulled up her hood and stared down into her half-empty mead, growling faintly, the same as the scruffy little canine aux laying at her feet.

Dane looked up as the two mugs of ale were set down on the table, wrapping his gloved fingers around the mug closest to him and watching Artorius as he took a seat across from him. "I'm guessin' you come 'round here a lot, huh?", Dane asked, looking around at the patrons who had by now turned their attention away from Art.

"It's the best place to get a drink around here. Cleaner than some taverns, lively but not \i too\i0 lively, not too picky about who hangs around", he explained, then raised his mug to take a drink. "So, Dane was it? Either you're relatively new to Aldus, or my observational skills are starting to fail me. How've you been adjusting to our fair city? Is it much different than where you originally hail from?"

"Oh, and if you don't mind my asking.. How is the guard captain in bed?", Artorius shamelessly asked with a devious little smirk, resting his chin on his fist, elbow on the table's surface. Dane choked on the ale sliding down his throat.

"Wh-What?! How would I know somethin' like that?!", Dane exclaimed once he stopped coughing, cheeks flushed bright red as he wiped his mouth.

"Don't play coy. I've seldom known a man to take an interest in a child he didn't father unless he'd been sleeping with their mother", Artorius insisted, "And I know you're not just bodyguarding for Karissa, I've high doubts anyone in the city would even think about hurting the guard captain's sweet little girl. That besides, it's plain to see the two of you are familiar."

 

[Lord Wraith]

M'VAE DON - TAVARK, blue

Snarling as the heavy tarp fell over his body, M'Vae continued to run blinded only slightly slowed by the heavy cloth drapped over him. As he ran between the two buildings, it snagged and was pulled off him just in time for the Sabertooth to notice that Darin had turned down a different alley. Drawing his bow, M'Vae steadied a shot as he noted that the human was started to slow, his wounds now bringing fatigue into his body. Releasing the shaft, the arrow flew through the air, M'Vae notched another arrow to his bow and another, releasing a grand total of four with the intent of leaving Darin as nothing more than a pin filled corpse.

The paladin jerked as the first struck his shoulder. He stumbled, slumping to the wall, dragging himself along it in his frenzy to escape. The second tore his calf, splitting skin and spraying blood. This wound spun him, and brought his bicep into the third arrow, which knocked him clean from his feet. Darin fell as the fourth arrow sailed over his head. He crashed to the alley's end, through a doorway, and crumpled on the threshold.

M'Vae grunted uncertainly. The two arrows that had missed had struck the door where Darin lay. Either he was losing his aim or the bow he had fashioned needed further tweaking. But the target was down, and that was what mattered to the hunter.

The last thorn in Eimund's side was dead.

Tavark truly belonged to the raiders now and M'Vae couldn't honestly see how anyone could take it back. Their men were fed, their walls fortified and now they had a dragon on their side, M'Vae smiled to himself, his lips arcing out around his long canines. Perhaps even he could find time to enjoy himself now, after all there was a girl waiting for him to claim.

Drawing a long dagger, the hunter strolled the rest of the alley towards the threshold, intent on sawing Darin's head from his body and bringing it back to his new lord.

 

[Porg]

Tavark

"Thermic gems aren't a bad idea." Ture grunted as he got to his feet, one hand against the wall for balance, the other clutching at his aching chest. He straightened himself up, flinching a little at the uncomfortable weight at his ankle.

"Ture you're not.." Dion started, as the avian made his way towards the tunnel entrance and pulled off the collection of furs and jackets they'd used to hide it from view.

"I'm the only one that fits through the hole. I'm also the only one who's gonna be able to get away when we unchain that dragon." He paused a second before lowering himself down into the tunnel. "And I owe the girl a favour."

"Wait! Please." And old man, the town's apothecary came hobbling up to Ture, holding what looked like a small bundle of dried herbs. "Please, take this. It will dull pain and help your injuries heal faster." Nothing the mild confusion and hint of fear in Ture's expression he quickly added "For when you get the shackle off. I will be impressed if you can do it without injury."

Ture took the advent ball and thanked the old man before turning to Dion and the guild members, giving a nod he tried not to make solemn and dropping into the hole.

"We're all dead aren't we.." Mylo commented as the avian left, receiving a full compliment of unimpressed stares for his trouble. "What? It's a coping mechanism."

The tunnel was tight and Ture wasn't a fan of the feeling of his feathers occasionally slipping out and adorning the dirt walls. He made most of the journey with his eyes closed trying to imagine the open sky. When your preferred habitat involves no obstructions in every direction you tend to form a certain amount of uncomfortableness when completely confined.

The smell of dirt gave way to the smell of stale ale and Ture's pace increased and he emerged int he tavern basement in an addled flurry of feathers and dirt, hopping up and down and brushing dirt off his feathers. He took a second to do a full body shiver and shake the thoughts of claustrophobia from his mind before he advanced upstairs.

The tavern was a sad site, like a library with no books it had been stripped of every drop of drink it had contained, bar a few suspect puddles and stains and now just stood as an empty husk of a building. Ture's mind was still drifting to the tunnel and he didn't notice the sound of footfalls as he lifted the latch of the tavern door.

Ture instinctively ducked as two uncomfortably loud thunks resonated through the wood of the door. There was a second of frozen movement before Ture leapt to one side as the door subsided . Something came crashing through, near tearing the wood from its hinges. Dust and snowflakes billowed, and there, on the threshold, he was confronted with the fallen figure of Darin.

"H-hey buddy you ok?" He asked, making sure to keep his distance, though it seemed to the avian that someone who could have easily had two arrows in his back was likely not one of the raiders.

Footfalls sounded above the man's groans. Someone was coming down the alley beyond. This man on the threshold was being hunted. A shadow fell across the doorway and a dagger glinted.

Ture's heart leapt. He stooped and gathered up the diving weight chained to his leg. With all the strength he could muster he lifted and flung it, wildly, at the doorway...

...just as M'Vae entered.

There was a crack of bone; a spray of blood. The hunter was knocked clean on his back, his long-dagger clattering away, his eyes fluttering to unconsciousness. He crashed down in the snow outside the tavern, a mirror to the paladin.

Ture gasped for breath, his heart racing as he stood over the two bodies. "I think I may have just saved- What the hell is that thing on your neck!?"

 

[Jade]

Blue. Red. Tattered. Mangled. Cut. Smashed. Torn. The bodies that lay in the snow were all these things and more. Not all were cut, or smashed, or torn, as far as the General could see. Some were not even red with blood. But all were blue. All had succumbed to the cold.

A hellish nightmare. A storm that had few equals in the great annals of Pegulis, let alone the memory of men. Hail the size of an ox's testicle had rained down for three nights, while the days were filled with gusting winds sharp enough that several men had actually been struck or impaled to death by simple pieces of equipment; no one had suspected a seventy pound tripod to jump into the air and flit about as if it were a feather, but it had, eventually finding a young soldiers neck on which to rest, sending him reeling backwards over a rock and shattering his backbone. Others had simply frozen to death; even their hardy Tavarkan bodies were unprepared to weather such a terrible storm.

"Leave them... we haven't the wood to burn them now; we'll send them to the north sea when we can."
General Horriksson said to a man at his left as he strode sorrowfully around, and in between corpses.

"At least they won't rot." The man responded. Perhaps the cold did have one advantage.

"Pack quick and tight men, we disembark at dawn; I expect you all to rise ready to march."

Just then, a voice was heard screaming through the swirling fog. A young man, seemingly crazed with despiration, came shooting into the camp, finding his way to the general and his right hand. A scant wall of spears were raised to protect Horricksson, but they were quickly dispersed; the genral knew this young man.

As the runner recounted his tale, Horriksson's heart filled with fury, though it would never make itself known upon his face.

It was clear what must be done.

With a stern look to the man at his side, the general propmted his first in command, "Rally now, men! Prepare a quick meal and abandon all unneccessary equipment; we march tonight!"

 

[4everDifferent]

TAVARK

Darin's mind swam in agony as he collapsed to the floor after crashing through the door. Above him stood an Avian and he thought he was done for as the man picked up the heavy ball at his feet. He raised it high and tossed it. Darin closed his eyes expecting death, but the absence of pain when he heard bone break made his eyes shoot open. The Anima had chased him, intending to finish the job, only to be knocked out cold by the Avian.

Darin swallowed hard but wasted no time. Too many times he had been left to the mercies of others at the hand of this Anima. Darin struggled to his feet, his left arm pulled tightly against his body as he scooped up the sword he had dropped with his right. His feet carried him swiftly and he stumbled and fell on top of the unconscious man. Darin pushed himself up and raised the blade, he centered the point over the Anima's chest where his heart would be and quietly he leaned down on his blade. Darin didn't have the strength to push the blade in, so he allowed his weight to drive the blade through his chest, his heart, his back and into the ground beneath him. M'Vae's last unconscious breath fogged from his lips as life faded silently from his body.

Darin, exhausted and weak, collapsed onto the dead man. The endorphins from his 'bandage' had begun to drive away the pain as he rolled over off of the body and into the street. His eyes blinked up at the sky. He had no idea if there were others, but he almost didn't care. Almost.

"You okay?" Darin's eyes caught the Avian, who had shuffled out after him. The man helped the paladin to his feet, "Lucky I was here! That guy would of ate you for dinner, or rather breakfast seeing that it's morning." Darin blinked and only spoke in grunts as he was supported into the tavern.

"Who are you?" Darin asked as he crashed against a table. He eyed the arrow in his arm and gripped the shaft firmly. He began to pull on it as the Avian turned away.

"I'm Tu- Hey! The hell are you doing?" Ture asked as he turned around. Too late, Darin pulled the shaft from his bicep and bit back a cry of agony. The shaft clanked as it fell to the floor. The Avian blinked, "Ture. You're out of your mind."

Darin nodded before he slid to the floor. Standing was too much. Exhausted laughter slipped through his lips as Ture followed him to the ground, pulling a ball of herbs from his pocket, "Well, Ture, I'm Darin, and I've been looking for you."