Pegulis, Chapter 3

[Noctis the Devious]

Tavark

The innuendo went over the huntress' head as she stumbled and tossed the soldier an odd look over her shoulder. He turning soft or something? She didn't have time to dwell on it though, the wagon they were being hurried towards caught her attention and had her noes wrinkling in disgust. Being subjected to and even handling dead animal bodies on a daily basis, the wagon contents didn't bother her as much as it did some of the women, but that smell. She buried her noes in her shoulder when she reached out to grab a piece of meat in an attempt to block out the wretched stench but nothing could prepare her for the feeling of rotting, bloody flesh squishing under her grasp. Revulsion nearly overcame her right then and there.

It was another harsh shove followed by a taunt that distracted her enough from the task at hand to actually get going toward their destination, which she had failed to notice until then. The slaughter house? Her sleep deprived mind took its sweet time piecing together what the soldiers wanted from them and it wasn't until they were at the entrance did she realize they were expected to feed the dragon.

Adrenaline snapped her out it and her mind began racing with thoughts once more. If I'm going to make my move, I need to do it now. Amara quickly analyzed the situation. A man, Eimund she guessed, held the dragon by its snout while a creepy robey bastard mumbled weirdly over the chains that bound the beast. At hand was a... fire mage? But he didn't look native. This is wrong. Anger crept up on her and her grip on the raw meat tightened with a wet squalsh. Blood stained the fur lining her bracers but her attention was on the great beast. I need to get to it. Very few people were aware of Amara's second advent and even less knew it's full extent and with good reason. The last time she activated it she was very nearly overwhelmed to the point of suffering permanent damage. But what choice do I have now?

The women were ordered to pile the meat just out of the way of the transpiring events and as Amara neared the pile, she felt time slipping through her fingers. Come on. Come on! Think! How the hell am I going to get from point A to point B? Diversion? She could chuck the meat at a nearby soldier and make a mad dive for the dragon, hopefully startling it enough to throw Eimund off and give her an opening to make her move. But I'd need time to get what I need. Blinding the mage could also be an option. Maybe causing him to hit Eimund with his flashy fire could give her the space she needed. That, or it'd be a good way to end up a pin cushion. I need to get somewhere they can't reach. She bit her lip at the risky thought. Five steps, four steps, three...

She cursed her own hesitance.

...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!

So stop being a hypocrite and do something!

"Oi! Move it already!" Amara didn't fight upon being shoved once more. Instead, she dropped the meat and used the momentum to propel herself forward into a dive, rolling out of the way. The alerted guards gave her mere seconds to react and she didn't waste them, lurching at the dragon as fast as her adrenaline driven legs could carry her and sliding under the great beast.

"Advent," she whispered - a quirk that had followed her into adolescence - as she placed her hands on the dragon's underbelly. All at once emotions rushed her and she let out a surprise gasp. The world blurred, sights and sounds and smells becoming distinguishable.

Anger, rage, annoyance, wrath, vengeance, fear, pain sorrow, panic, hysteria...

And then there were emotions she couldn't place. Those that would only be hindered by words and deluded by color. She latched on to them, focused, let them sweep her up, carry her way. She was drifting one minute, lashed about the next, before ebbing away. And there it was. Like the rest, she couldn't place a name on the emotion, but it felt off. It didn't belong. It held a synthetic quality.

And she snatched it.

 

[Asmodeus]

Tavark

... and what she snatched was its submission, its instinctive wilting before the alpha. The very emotion Eimund and his sorcerer were exploiting.

Before any raider could stoop to grab the girl beneath the monster's belly, there was a hiss. Suvius recoiled as the spell backfired, his eldritch shackles looping back from the chains. The charge grounded through his body, charring clothes, scarring flesh. He fell and with his defeat came a muffled, furious, ear-splitting roar. The dragon jerked its head to the left, and Eimund, who had been gripping the chain muzzle, was flung against the slaughterhouse wall. He crumpled in a heap and left only Durael and a circle of startled raiders.

The women fled, dropping chunks of meat. The soldiers backed off. Durael looked into the furious eyes of the dragon, and saw the chain muzzle stretching.

"Oh, fuck!"

The pyromancer dropped to one knee in his arcane circle and channeled magic through shoulder and elbow. A second later, the ice blast erupted from the dragon's lungs, shattering the muzzle and billowing through the slaughterhouse. It struck Durael's circle and was split apart, wafting out to strike the pillars and those unlucky enough to stand either side of Durael. The ice passed over him, and he straightened up in the circle, flames on his finger tips.

He was unscathed. And every shard of ice that had hurtled towards him had now deflected to the pillars, which were frozen sol--

"Oh, fuck!"

The iced pillars shattered as the dragon charged, dragging the chains and any pieces of wall and column still attached to them. It crashed through the still shapes of frozen raiders, decimating them in bloody dust. Durael spun on his heel and dashed after the women. They scattered into the town square as the beast broke free.

The dragon launched from the slaughterhouse, chains and rocks in tow like cumbersome jewellery. Each dangling attachment augmented its destruction, whirling with the dragon, whipping out to demolish shop fronts and crush wagons. Horses bolted in every street and raiders scattered to alleys and doorways. It flexed its wings, trying to remember the skies, the motions of flight. It sailed a few feet up then crashed down again. Chains cleaved through rooftops and pillars smashed through siege weaponry.

It was in rampage.

And in the slaughterhouse, at the exact spot where the dragon had lain, Amara sat up and rubbed her face. The dragon had passed over the huntress, and left her only with an echo of its wrath.

 

[Voices of Nerat]

Dane Myros - Aldus, gold

As Artorius spoke, Dane's face just continued to grow redder and redder, increasingly embarassed by this line of questioning. "Y-You don't know what yer sayin'! I ain't never- That's the CAP'N yer talkin' about, I ain't never thought 'bout her like that! Er... Not that she ain't pretty or nothin', I mean... Ya know what I mean!" Realizing he wasn't really helping the case, Dane decided it would be best if he should just stop now, lowering his head and grumbling under his breath. "Karissa's just m'friend, is all.."

The pickpocket seated across from him did his best to conceal his amusement, holding back a chuckle at this man's obvious embarrassment. Scowling, the country boy went to get up from his seat, but Art motioned for him to sit back down, a command he reluctantly obliged. "Okay, Okay! I'm sorry I had the wrong impression. But you're right, captain Ilsa is rather attractive, isn't she?"

Artorius leaned back in his chair, rubbing his chin as he stared up at the ceiling in mock contemplation. "Even in that armor she's always walking around in, you can tell she's got a womanly figure. Smooth, vanilla skin, full, pouty lips, curves in all the right places... You wouldn't be the first man in Aldus to wonder what lies beneath all that chain and plate, that's for sure."

Dane allowed himself to be drawn into Art's vivid description, expression taking on a listless look while his imagination pieced the picture together for him. "Well, I... I reckon I can't deny she's a beauty..." Wait, what the hell was he thinking?! He shouldn't be picturing his commanding officer like that!

"..Y-You got a dirty mind, mister! That's the cap'n of the Aldus Watch yer talkin' 'bout, show some damned respect!" Dane slammed his fists on the table, the vibrations from which causing his already perilously placed mug of ale to go tumbling off the edge of the table, splattering the floor with the amber beverage. "Ah, geez..." he mumbled, already flustered enough by Artorius's jabs that he didn't even make eye contact with the bartender when the broad man found his way over with a mop and bucket. "Er, sorry 'bout the mess..."

"It's alright lad, not the first spill we've had in here, won't be the last neither." The Tavarkian proprietor gave the watchman a smile before he began cleaning up the mess, turning his gaze over to the amused character parallel to Dane. "Makin' new friends are we, Art? Well if you plan on keepin' this one, you should try not to torment the poor boy too much."

"Ah, you know I can't help it... get the man another flagon when you're done, will you? You can put it all on my tab, like usual." Lacking any etiquette, the thief let his boots rest up on the edge of the table, mug held idly in his lap. "Oh, may as well get me another one while you're at it, too. This one's almost empty."

"Hah, you mean the councilman's tab? But aye, will do." The towering man turned to take his leave, patting the downtrodden Dane on the shoulder as he went to fetch their drinks.

He regained his composure somewhat, straightening his posture and clearing his throat. Determined to change the subject, he spoke first this time. "Ahem. So uh... I'm guessin' that must be why you can get away with darn near anythin' 'round here, huh? Ya got a relative in the council, that's why? He yer pa or somethin'?" Taking his mug from the returning bartender with a gracious nod, he looked back to Art, genuinely curious about his answer.

 

[Porg]

Tavark

"Looking for me!? Why? What have I done?" Ture squeaked backing away from the slumped paladin.

"I was recommended your name. Told you would be a worthwhile Ally." Darin responded, finishing his sentence by coughing blood into his hand.

"Who on Sunne told you that?" Ture mumbled under his breath. The avian stared at the bundle of herbs he held. It was of course supposed to be in order to help him deal with an inevitable injury but, and Ture reflected this wasn't a usual conclusion for him, this man clearly needed it more. "Take this, it's a healing compound from our town's apothecary. I dunno how strong it is but I know it'll numb the pain at the very least."

He let the paladin have a second with the medicine as he took a second to survey the scene. The hulking body of M'vae was pretty conspicuous, lying on the floor, though the bleeding man slumped against the wall wasn't much less so. Ture couldn't pin what he felt as he gazed at the body of the anima. He'd help to kill this man, not a thing he'd ever thought about before let alone participated in, and there was a large amount of fear amidst which swam a kernel of guilt. a kernel that might have been bigger were he not from a hunting town where life and death were daily presences and had this man not sided with those twisted men Eimund was leading.

Drowning in those emotions however was also a swell of pride. He'd help to fell this villain, he had saved a man's life and struck a blow to the oppressors! Ture wasn't sure he found this a comforting thought, but it was at least energising.

"We need to move him." He said, making his way towards the corpse. He clutched at the fabric of it's trousers, realising his hands weren't big enough to get a good grip around M'Vae's ankles. Ture gave a tug, which resulted in little more than the sword tilting slightly. "Ah.. I'm.. not made for this.."

"Take the sword out" Darin advised, limply raising his hand in something close to a directional gesture. Ture turned to look at him and sighed. "Lets get you inside first, you need to just sit down a second and out here isn't the place to do it."

Ture helped the Paladin into the inn and propped him up behind the bar. Here they knew passing eyes wouldn't see them. "Right I'll just.." he was interrupted by a sky-splitting roar and some worryingly close sounds of splintering wood and crashing stone. "That sounds like.."

 

[LVL1337N00B]

Artorius Cale - Aldus, burlywood

Feet still atop the table, Artorius leaned back on the rear legs of his seat as he drank of his second ale. "Good guess", he replied, wiping a bit of liquid clear from his mouth with the back of his hand, "My father has been counted among the coucil for.."

The rogue's eyes turned toward the ceiling momentarily before he shrugged. "Well, for longer than I can recall." He lightly shook his glass, idly watching as the remainder of the beverage within swirled. "I'd be a liar if I said that little fact was without its benefits, as you well know.."

Artorius paused and looked up from his mug, expectantly waiting for Dane to make some comment. None came it would seem, the country boy instead listening intently. "..Though it's a small wonder that the old man still puts up with me, blood or not. He and I aren't on the best of terms, you see."

"Y'all don't get along?", Dane asked with a raised brow before taking another drink.

"Don't get me wrong, I love the man. Respect him even. We just don't see eye to eye on some things", Artorius explained, taking another quick swig, "And I'll admit I'm still a tad sore over the turn out of an event from our common past."

"What'd that be?", Dane pried, curious.

Artorius leaned back dangerously far as he gulped down the rest of his ale, then jerked forward, his flagon hitting the table as his feet hit the floor. "A story for another day, maybe. It's a bit of a boring tale and it's getting late, besides.. The dame in the corner has been giving me the eye since we waltzed in here."

"The evil eye, ya mean", Dane corrected, glancing back at the hateful looking young woman. She looked like she was about ready to come over and dot Art's eye. He didn't look the slightest bit deterred by that however, waggling his eyebrows at the woman once before standing up and seeing Dane off.

While the less virtuous of the pair would hang behind to flirt with a lass who obviously wanted nothing to do with him, Dane made his way home "Let's do this again some time", Artorius had offered as they parted ways. Maybe they would. For now though both men would soon lie unconscious, one by his own will and the other.. Well, he surely had it coming.

 

[4everDifferent]

TAVARK

Darin cringed as Ture moved away. He had not helped Darin remember the arrow imbedded in his arm. Another task the paladin would not be excited to carry out but one that was completely necessary. Darin gripped the shaft with his good arm and then frowned. He let it go as he pulled a rag, no doubt dirty, from behind the bar and slipped it between his teeth. Now his hand wrapped around the shaft again and with all his might he pulled on it.

He groaned, much louder than he had anticipated but it was muffled by the towel. His head swam as the shaft finally pulled free and he fell to the ground with a thud. He spit out the dirty rag and quickly placed his hand over the flowing wound. Probably not a good idea, but perhaps those bitter herbs he had downed would kick in.

Kick in they did. The pain fled him, he was unsure if it was from the herbs or the squid still suctioned to his neck. The flow of blood slowed until it finally stopped. He felt burning sensations over all his injuries and upon checking them, they had begun to close. By the time the sensation ended, they were closed enough to perhaps just wrap with clean bandages or towels.

His eyes shifted back to Ture, who had been trying to dispose of M'Vae's body. The fool had not figured out that the man was pinned to the ground by the sword, "Take the sword out," he called out to Ture.

The sudden roar that split through the sky sent shivers through Darin's spine. He struggled to his feet and limped, because of soreness, to Ture. There was only one thing that Darin knew of in this city that would make such a noise and when his eyes turned skyward he realized it was flying right toward them.

"Dragon!" Darin finished Ture's sentence and firmly grabbed the Avian by his arm. Without hesitation he pulled him to safety as the dragon flew over head and dragged a chunk of what was most likely one of the pillars into the tavern. Darin pushed Ture hard and dove after him, crashing against the ground too weak to protect himself. The roof of the tavern exploded and a massive chunk landed right on their corpse.

Darin's eyes moved from the beast to Ture, "You okay?" He grunted. He'd was perfectly content to lie there, but he could not. If the dragon was free, that meant only one thing that he knew of. Eimund had tamed the beast. Darin hurried as best he could to his feet and dragged Ture up as well.

"If the dragon is free, then we need to leave Tavark. Eimund was taking it!" It had not dawned on him at all that if it had been tamed then chains and broken pillars would not be a part of its attire. Neither did it fit that the dragon had now turned the town.

 

[Porg]

Tavark

Ture looked up warily, flinching as a few extra splinters cascaded from the ceiling. "Doesn't much look like that dragon is listening to anyone.." Ture commented absent-mindedly as he brushed himself off. He took note of the first few snowflakes fluttering by, dancing in the eddies created by a rapidly changing wind. "We don't have long.. pretty soon this place will be engulfed in a blizzard…" He said without looking at Darin "The door frame!!" He exclaimed, dashing towards the wreckage of wood that remained of the door.

"Thanks by the way" He called as he started pulling the splintered wood apart. "Come on come on! What kind of crappy inn was this if it didn't have a.. YES!" Ture held up his prize, a small red glowing gem. "A lot of big buildings have thermic gems built into the door frames here. Stops the heat getting out!."

He was just examining the little gem when out of the corner of his eye he caught sight of something else in the wreckage. A little crystal, about an inch long, he picked it up and almost without noticing, slipped it into his pocket. "Now hopefully this will work!" He continued as he walked back to Darin.

He placed the gem on the floor and grabbed a large metal pin from the surrounding wreckage. The snow was starting to fall thickly now, and at a definite angle. Ture positioned the pin point down and clutched at a chunk of rock. "What are you doing!?"

Ture didn't respond to the question but looked Darin in the eye "You're a warrior right? You're good at all this stuff? Saving people fighting badguys?" Darin looked confused and sceptical but Ture already knew the answer, it was in the way the man moved, the way he'd dealt with the anima, and in the way he talked. "I need you to do something for me Darin."

Ture brought the rock down as hard as he could on the metal pin, which ricocheted away and clattered against the floor. The avian held the thermic gem up to inspect it as a hairline crack spread across it's surface and sparks began to erupt from it. Reacting quick he shoved it against the cuff on his ankle, the gem hissed as it sprayed fire against the black metal, slowly turning it a hot orange and Ture screamed as it burnt both his hand and his leg, but he did not let go.

"Are you mad!?" Darin exclaimed. But the Paladin wasn't stupid and knew better than to try and stop what was happen. Better and less destructive at this point to help get it over with as quickly as possible. The larger man grabbed the cuff and yanked at it, pulling it off in a hiss and whine of breaking metal.

"Ahhhh FUCK" Ture yelled unceremoniously as he flung the gem away into a heap of rapidly building snow. He clutched at his hand and tried to resist the urge to just curl up into a ball and sob. Darin was quick off the mark and had already grabbed some of the snow that had settled frighteningly fast to pack it onto Ture's wounds.

Once Ture had calmed down a bit and the pain had subsided slightly from the cool of the snow Darin placed a hand on his shoulder. "What was it you wanted me to do?" Ture smiled a little and looked up at the man.

"It's funny, I already trust you Darin. So I'm really sorry, but It's a pretty crappy job.." Ture pushed himself to his feet and limped over to the destroyed wall of the tavern, looking up at the sky. "Somewhere where that dragon was.. You know the place. There will be a girl. Long hair, feathers.. Loud. You can't miss her really. Im sorry Darin but I'm going to have to ask you to go and help her out of there."

"And where are you going?" Darin replied, the painkillers meaning he barely noticed his injuries as he stood up, a new luxury.

"You ever seen a hawk try to catch a sparrow?"

"The hawk usually succeeds doesn't it?"

Ture sighed at the response "Unfortunately.. yes."

 

[Noctis the Devious]

Tavark

Amara made a face when she realized her hands where still covered in dead animal blood and had smeared it across her cheeks. Well, could be worse, I guess. It was Tang standing on her chest and waving his cane around in the air that brought her back to her situation and a brief wave of panic shot through her like a bolt of lightning. She jolted up right and took stock of her surroundings. The slaughter house could barely be called such after the dragon's escape and two bodies laid among the wreckage. Wether they were dead or alive she wasn't about to stick around long enough to find out. Come on; move!

She staggered to her feet only for her shaking legs to buckle and send her sprawling across the ground once more. She inwardly cursed anyone and anything that came to mind and half stumbled, half crawled toward a gaping hold in the structure but a low groan had her quickly ducking behind a pile of wood and stone. Crap, crap, crap! Damn it all to hell! Tang tapped her collar bone to her her attention and Amara blinked when a tiny ice crystal landed on her cheek bone. Snow? A wide grin split her face and she fought back a laugh. Snow! Thank the ice beast! Moving as inconspicuously as possibly, she fell to her knees in the white powdery stuff and began covering herself in it despite the dropping temperature. This should cover my scent enough. Now all that was left was to actually find some shelter. And hopefully this storm will be enough to cover any other tracks I leave.

Amara pushed her fatigue-riddled body forward and snuck away from the wreckage. She briefly considered going back to the grain store but the women from earlier surely rescued the captured Tavarkians. Now all there's left is actually escaping. She finally collapsed in an alley next to some more rubble and looked toward the darkening sky. "How much of a hunter is still left in that warlord, do you think?" she questioned. Tang gave no verbal answer, merely cuddled closer to his crux's neck for warmth.

 

[Astille]

Tavark, Blue

Milah's introduction was pleasant. By the time her name had been spoken, it was permanently etched into Azriel's mind. Her words brought a smile to the Avian's face. "I can't say I've ever thought of riding a horse before..." He continued to stroke the stallion's mane as he spoke. "But I imagine it can't be all that different from flying. At least the way i picture it, it probably delivers a similar feeling of freedom of spirit." All four of Azriel's near black wings expanded as he thought about it. "But then, it's also necessary for you to form a bond with someone other than yourself. It's not as simple as training your own body. I have to say, Equestrianism most likely requires far more than flight. You must be proud."

After a quick search, the Avian found no officer with either the time or interest to listen to what he had to say. He then returned to the side of the woman whom he had doctored. With a heavy sigh, he took a seat, and checked over her bandaged wounds. As expected, she hadn't soaked her new bandages in blood. She would be just fine, so long as she gave herself a little time before growing too active. "There's a full scale invasion force inside of Tavark..." He said to the woman. "I need to tell someone, but I'm not familiar with the chain of commands here. I'm no Tavarkian soldier." Xanther attempted to comfort Azriel, nuzzling the side of his face as he contemplated what he should do.





That's when Azriel heard the General call out that the troops were moving as soon as possible. He had probably received the same information Azriel had just gotten from Xanther! The defeat on the Avian's face was replaced with resolve. He removed the vial he had been examining earlier from his bag. He had been hoping to wait as long as possible before taking the concoction, for it was his last one, and it would take quite some time for him to find the ingredients to make another, but this was an emergency, and if now wasn't the perfect time, he didn't know what was. He removed the cork from the vial and drank the potion from it quickly. As he did so, something miraculous happened! He expanded his majestic wings, and right before the eyes of everyone watching, their dark color washed away, leaving behind the pure white, angel-like wings that Azriel was named for. As the darkness faded from his wings, his energy seemed to return to him. He stretched his muscles, as well is his Divine looking wings, before looking toward Milah. He extended his hand to her leg, once more placing his hand over the bandage, and in a matter of moments, he completely closed the wound, leaving behind little more than a scar. "I'm going to help them." He told Milah calmly. "If you feel up to it, you should be in good enough condition to come along now." He wasn't sure if she would accept his invitation or not. He didn't know what she would be capable of doing, but if Tavark was her home, it would feel wrong not to at least give her the opportunity to aid however she saw fit.

With that, he made his way to the General, careful not to perturb his overprotective guards. If you're going into Tavark, I wish to join you. I know I'm not a part of your Army, but I'm sure there are people on the inside who will be in need of a medic. Please allow me to aid in any way I can." His wings folded behind his body in an act of Humility before an Officer, However his tone was strong and decisive. It was clear that he had no intention of taking no for an answer.

 

[4everDifferent]

TAVARK

Darin nodded in understanding to what Ture meant to do. Both of them had impossible tasks at hand. Ture was going to try and distract a dragon and he was to stroll right into the presence of Eimund to scoop up a girl who may or may not still be there. Besides that, he had just left there and there were no women.

"Ture, I just left that building. There were no women there just raiders, wizards and me," Darin studied the Avian.

Ture grunted, "Some raiders took a bunch of women to feed the dragon."

Darin sighed, the women must have arrived just after he left. Which also meant that there might be more women than this one that needed help, "Okay," he was having to shout to be heard over the storm now, his naked chest began to burn from the cold, "Give me her name."

"Amara, her name's Amara," Ture grimaced.

Darin nodded then stepped toward Ture and lowered himself to the man's ankle, "Hold still!" He yelled as his hands moved over the badly burned ankle. Darin's hands emitted a faint golden light as comforting warmth washed over Ture's ankle. Darin's head spun as he tried to focus, but couldn't complete the healing. He was just too tired to absorb another's injuries. Though he was still injured Ture's leg was in much better shape. Darin struggled back to his feet, "You helped me. Sorry I couldn't heal it all. Be safe, Ture, I'll meet you back here with Amara!" The men nodded and then headed toward their seemingly impossible tasks.
-----
Darin's arms huddled close to his body as he moved through the blizzard stricken streets, not because of his injuries but because it was so damn cold. He was shirtless and in a blizzard. The paladin moved as quickly as he could, as low as possible to hide at the first hint of trouble. He was unarmed since his sword was buried with M'Vae's remains.

Darin clenched his jaw to keep his teeth from clattering as a stalky shadow appeared between the sheets of snow that blew harshly. Darin ducked behind a few crates and watched as the shadow grew into two. The closer they drew the clearer they became until running past him were two raiders. The only thing Darin could think of was warmth at least some degree of it.

Just as the two men passed him Telra darted out in front of them, startling the men. Darin jumped from hiding, disposing of the first man in a similar fashion he had the guard when he first entered the city. Darin reached for the fallen man's sword and drew it to face the second man who had also drawn his blade. Darin no longer had the element of surprise. The metal clashed as Darin parried the first blow. The sound barely audible over the howling wind. Darin's weary muscles strained against the blow before he was able to push the man away. A second swing was parried and when the raider pushed, Darin swung his free arm across the raider's face. It took a second blow to end the raider's assault.

Darin launched his own attack, bringing his sword across at chest height. The raider growled as it grazed through leather and scratched his skin. Darin's next two swings were parried before the raider landed a blow that sent Darin stumbling back. His weakened state making it harder to recover.

The raider renewed his assault and harder than before. Darin parried as best he could but was eventually kicked into a merchant's table. The table broke under him and the sword fell from his grasp. His hand instead falling on the broken table leg. The raider grinned as he raised his sword for the finishing blow.

Darin's fingers wrapped around the table leg and with a hard swing her brought it against the side of the raider's knee. The raider cried out in agony and dropped to a knee. Darin swung again this time slamming the wooden leg into the man's face. Blood painted the snow as the raider fell limp into it. Darin hurried to his feet and picked up the sword he had dropped. He brought it down on the man's neck separating his head from his body.

Darin breathed heavily as he reached down and grabbed the body of the first man. He tried desperately to drag it into the building next to him, but the cold as well as exhaustion had set in again. His back slammed against the outside wall as he slid down it and into the snow. If he could just get inside with that body, he could put something warm on at least.

 

[OverCast]

Tavark

Durael was shaken from his confused trance by the shouts of Eimund; "DURAEL!" he jumped, and he looked to Eimund for direction. With the healer gone, and Suvius busy holding down the dragon, Durael was the only one left that could do anything about the wounds. He knew what he would have to do; restoration by fire.

"Do it, Kaustiran. Cauterize the wounds!"

Before Durael could cast a spell to cauterize the wounds of the dragon, Suvius had fallen. The dragon snapped its head to the left, launching Eimund, who had been holding onto the dragon into the wall of the slaughterhouse. The metal muzzle on the dragon's head stretched. The muzzle shattered as ice and snow erupted from the mouth of the dragon. Durael's instincts kicked in, and he channeled magic through his arms. The ice blast was split around him, and the blizzard froze the pillars. He was uninjured.

"Oh fuck!"

The frozen pillars shattered, and the dragon charged after Durael. He spun, fleeing in an adrenalin fueled sprint. He made it to the town square, and turned back, watching as the beast demolished any building in its path. He was lucky to be alive, and aside from a couple of small cuts and scrapes from the debris, he was unharmed. He ran into a side street, running in the opposite direction of the rampaging dragon. He had no knowledge of an exit besides the gate he entered through. He had only traveled to Tavark a few times, and was fairly unfamiliar with the city.

Another roar echoed through the town, startling Durael. He continued running. He figured if he ran in the same direction long enough, he would find a wall to scale or at least an exit.

 

[Noctis the Devious]

Tavark

Amara hadn't realized she had fallen into a light sleep until she managed to pick up odd sounds over the howling winds and noisy screeches. She jumped to her feet, now trembling from the cold, and shook off the built up snow. I'm such an idiot! She growled inwardly, flexing her fingers in an attempt to get some feeling back into them. When this is all over I am so taking a nice warm bath, digging a hole for myself, and hibernating! Tang snapped Amara out of her thoughts with some more taps to her collar bone and jumped down from her shoulder. "Right, let's go."

The scuffle that had occurred actually wasn't all that far from her position and she very nearly tripped over a figure slumped against the building. She quirked an eyebrow and looked between the shirtless man and the newly felled raider. "Uh..."

"Please tell me you're Amara," the man interjected, sounding as exhausted as she felt. Maybe even more so. "Ture sent me," was quickly added upon seeing the huntress' apprehension.

Her mind slowly processed the information before it finally dawned on her that she should probably help out the poor guy. "Oh! He did make it out then. Best news I heard all day." She tugged the man to his feet with much effort on both of their parts and lead him inside the building he was headed into to begin with. "You just sit tight then. I'll see what I can find." She didn't give the man time to react before she turned on her heels and went back to the bodies. By then they were already partially buried.

"May your soul mend in death, friend." She murmured sadly. She hesitated, not sure how she should feel about searching a dead body, but then shook it off with a shake of her head. Looks like push has come to shove, eh? The first thing she grabbed was the armor and furs, taking them to the man she found and dumping them in a pile for him to sort through. She didn't allow for much conversation as she proceeded to check the bodies for anything else that might prove useful.

Oh, she paused when a set of pouches were discovered and she eagerly opened one. Would you look at that. She allowed herself a grin and happily reclaimed her pouches. When she returned once more, it was with weapons, a half frozen water skin, and a set of thermostones, which she tossed at the man thinking he needed them more than she did. "We can't wait around her for too long," Amara started. "Eimund will be up and about soon if he isn't already, and neither one of us is exactly prepared for that confrontation. We need to regroup..." She trailed off when she realized she and the other conspirators never had a time to decide on a place to meet back up. She pressed her lips together in a fine line as she looked out into the storm trying to think up a most likely place to meet back up with everyone.

"What about the others? Ture mentioned other women?"

"They managed to get away before hell broke loose," Amara explained. "I think the mage managed to escape too." She quickly changed the subject. "The bodies can be left for now, but we best get going before we become shut in. Oh, and I never was told of your name."

 

[4everDifferent]

TAVARK

Darin watched as Amara disappeared outside and then returned a few minutes later carrying exactly what he needed. The paladin, shivering, moved to the furs and armor quickly weeding out the ones with blood on them and slipping into the first man's shirt. He began strapping on the light armor when she returned with weapons. They clanked against the ground as she dropped them. His shaking fingers latched the armor in place and then he went for the sword and shield she brought in. He blew out a quick breath suddenly feeling it of breath and tired.

Pulling the fur cloak over his 'bandage' he turned back to Amara, "I told Ture I'd bring you to the tavern. He said he would meet us there." Darin swayed. He didn't remember a shield being so heavy but the familiarity of the equipment wouldn't let him drop it, "Let's get going." He was leaning against the wall without noticing.

"You sure you can make it? You're looking as though that wall is the only thing keeping you up," Amara replied.

Darin forced a smile and nodded, "Ya, let's go." He stepped and stumbled. Amara caught him, "I'm fine," He said as he straightened himself up. Amara nodded away from the proud warrior and followed his limping form back into the storm.

Darin was immediately grateful for the gear she found as the wind and snow battered against his weakened form. It was work just to take steps and finally he was forced to drop the shield. It took them longer than he thought it should to return to the mound of collapsed rooftop. Darin smiled ever so slightly at the minor victory he had buried under that pile of rubble.

"Where is Ture?" Amara asked.

Darin's eyes turned skyward as he found some shelter to hide beneath, "Hunting the the Hawk."

 

[Porg]

Tavark

The paladin departed and Ture made another wistful look at the sky, cracking his neck and shaking himself down. "Ok.. just breathe, lets do this." He muttered to himself, as he pulled his aux down over his eyes. The slits in the mask angled down in a determined expression.

He braced, wincing a little as his injured ankle protested, and flapped his wings out. A second later the only sign he'd been there was a couple of errant feathers dancing among the falling snow. He flitted up and kicked off a roof before truly embracing the limitless expanse of the sky. He closed his eyes a second just to enjoy it and feel the wind. He could almost see the eddies and currents, he hugged his wings to his body and did a dive through a strong head-wind before opening his arms and riding a reverse gust upwards. It wasn't hard to see where the Dragon was, the wind was swirling around him, like the eye of the storm.

Ture raced towards the dragon, which had managed to get some height and appeared to be just enjoying the ability to fly again. He almost felt bad for interrupting. He came up behind the hulking beast, riding briefly in the calm between it's shoulder blades before rushing towards it's head, and as hard as he could, delivered a swift kick to the dragon's eye. Time seemed to slow and Ture found himself wondering what changed to make him to something this absurdly stupid. In the moment, all he could think of was Amara.

Time returned to normal and Ture used the force of his kick to push off, folding his wings in and diving down as fast as he could. A roar that could only be described as livid. Ture started to feel a frosting on his feathers and opened his wings, catching a crosswind and rapidly changing direction, the dragon kept going and crashed into a house before scrabbling to it's feet and pushing off the ground, it's whip-like tail lashing around and taking chunks of masonry out. The avian bobbed with the winds, pushing off rooves as he needed to. He was almost at the town limits when he felt the creature's maw behind him.

Taking a final terrified breath he twisted midair and pushed off the masonry of the wall and darted back towards the dragon, narrowly avoiding it's snapping jaws and spinning along it's spine. The dragon wasn't capable of the same quick direction changed but that didn't stop it trying. As the monster twisted in midair it crashed through the wall, scattering stone and wood across the fields beyond.

The snowstorm was increasing in ferocity as did the creature's anger and Ture was left with no choice. He mumbled a few choice words to himself as the eye slits on his mask sparked into light, a cold blue advent-glow emanating from them. The snow that had been like a wall of white before was now all but invisible to the avian and he made a note that he had a minute before he was dead.

Kicking off a weathervane he flew to the right, darting down between two buildings and rising when he heard the dragon hit the architecture. Twisting and veering tot he right and then to the left he kept pace away from the dragon. The ever present sound of smashing buildings as the dragon almost waded through the architecture. Ture knew where he was heading but he was at the mercy of the maelstrom of wind that surrounded the monster. The avian flitted around the town, bouncing from rooftop to rooftop, making sure he never travelled in the same direction for too long. He crested a large house to see his destination, the area around the ruined slaughterhouse. There was still a noticeable contingent of raiders around. Ture started to look for Darin and Amara when he was suddenly assaulted with white as his advent ran out. "Oh shit" He whimpered as he found himself blind.

He made to bank right as the house behind him exploded and the dragon emerged in a shower of splinters. There was a sickening crunch and Ture's heart sank as he felt a shooting pain spear up his leg. He managed a brief glance at the chunk of crimson wood protruding from his thigh before the dragon barrelled through the building and fell thrashing into the square. The unfortunate avian was sent flying, whipped up by the storm of wind surrounding the creature.

 

[Wolfsin]

Barvelle

Listening to each witness step forth and bring the same story only made Wolfsin that much more uneasy, and angry. The Sages, the wisest men of Pegulis and possibly some of the wisest in all of Sunne, and they were stuck with nothing but speculations and horrid excuses to avoid taking action. It was a mockery, a trifling peaceful mockery and at that a slap in the face to those that had died for their service to deliver this damned news in the first place. How many had fallen? to both golems of ice and stone, the ghoul sage himself? It was insane to think of the numbers lost and for... this? even worse.

It did not get better either, with each new speaker that got to the stand Wolfsin could feel his blood boil, and his muscles contract with each tightened fist he made. He wanted more than anything to call them on their ignorance, to walk down there and step up on the damned centerpiece and begin with a prayer, to tell them that they were the only ones not involved in his prayer of safety, that their selfish lack of action and horrid speculatory decision making skills were going to be the end of Pegulis, and that before they had the chance to even admit that they were wrong, the whole of the Blue republic would be under a mountain of snow, ash and bones. THEN tell them that it would be a temporary thing, that just when Pegulis was given a chance to rest it would be stripped of them as the bones that made up the mountain formed and army to converge upon the rest of Sunne.. if this Ghoul sage was as powerful as they were all saying... then... if they didn't do something now, stop him while they could.. then there would be NO stopping him.

Yes; Wolfsin wanted to say all of these things, and normally he would have, but perhaps it was too soon. More would come and perhaps one might be able to breach their shell of pacifism, and ignorance. he could only hope, because he had no place to speak here, Eirene's clear dismissal of his suggestion had been enough to tell him that. Wolfsin did not belong with these self righteous morons. he belonged on the front lines... and if it came down to it that would be where he stood. if they would not take action, then he would and if need be he would raise a banner and build a group to at least challenge the powers that threatened them. Eirene be damned; if it was for the good of Pegulis he would fail his first contract...Time would tell but it would not wait.. for now that was what he had to do... and hope that the sages could be persuaded.

 

[Ai]

Vrein Baelithar, #285bd2

Past - The Church of Barvelle, #285bd2

Warm sensations flooded into Vrein as the hot liquid slid down his throat. As time went past the cold began to disappear, replaced by the warmth of the snug blankets and the heat of Eydis's body up against him. Locked together in a tight wrap of blankets skin to skin. The touch of her soft breasts against his side and her leg dangerously close to his manhood. "D-don't you get any ideas from this! I'm just warming you up," she demanded.

With a smile Vrein relaxed into the comfort of the fur bed, warmth slowly taking the place of the bitter icy chill that clung to him. From the back of his throat he chuckled "Ilsa would get so mad i-"he was half way through saying when there came sudden interruption of hurried footsteps.

Three men dressed in dull blue robes suddenly appeared from the door and addressed Kyra "Where can I find Vrein Baelithar?" he inquired.

Crossing her arms the priestess took note of the garments three men wore, they were from the council. "He's resting, what do you need?" she inquired. Noticing the surprise that overcame their faces when they saw Vrein wrapped up in bed with Eydis. "He is to give a testimony to the Governors." They replied with a hint of confusion.

The smith peered toward them, clearly unamused 'More political horseshit.'

Grudgingly Vrein tried to remove himself from the tightly wrapped blankets "Give me a minute," He growled. Disgruntled by the fact Kyra wouldn't let him wear his clothing and was making him wear one of those stupid dresses or robes as most scholars liked to call it.

Before he left Vrein regarded Eydis once more "Sorry to have to put you through that. You're a good kid." He told her with a smile. Rustling between the sheets he grabbed two thermic gems and tried his best to cover the fox Anima's naked body with the blankets.

"I'll be back." he told Kyra who slowly nodded in reply.

The three scholars assisted Vrein to the council chambers.

​

Present - The Council Chambers, #285bd2

​

As he arrived Vrein sat silently and watched Ethel and Ilsa stand before the masses. Speaking their thoughts to the three Sages of Barvelle, warning them of the danger that faced the city, the danger that they themselves had already faced. Their efforts only met with laughter and disbelief.

A sad expression dawned upon Vrein's features as he looked upon Ilsa who had tried her best to sway them but. But still they would not believe.

Vrein's eyes followed the Captain as she stood in the arena with a mixture of guilt and sympathy, knowing that he had been too harsh earlier. Despite her responsibility the woman took it into her personal attention to look after him, he'd have to apologize later. Right now there were more pressing concerns, for both of them.

Finally it was his turn to stand up and speak. Hobbling toward the crutch in the center of the circle he could not help but shamed and humiliated that he could not speak toward the crowd like the Captain who went before him. But his injuries would not let amplified words escape his lungs.

A sense of nervousness rising through his brain that quickly turned to anger when he heard the muttering that came from the crowd whose eyes were set on him like hawks. With a deep breath he addressed them. "I am Vrein Baelithar. A Blacksmith who accompanied the convoy as one of the ninety men that left Aldus and one of the fourteen survivors."

"Do you want to know what is truly disgusting? While you quacks get to sit around in your comfy homes is that good people like Captain Ilsa and her men who died in the pass strive protect you yet you stand there and laugh. You horrible people that dishonour the deaths of lives that were spent making sure YOU are safe. Their entire mission to keep you safe and keep peace in Barvelle. You laugh. But despite this here they are! The remainder of those brave people stand before you to warn you of a threat that will be the end of this nation. Unwilling to leave you with their thoughts because they know with every fibre of their being that we are all in danger."

Pausing Vrein allowed his words to sink into the crowd that sneered down at him with an eerie silence.

Stepping backward he let the crowds eyes linger as he dismantled his white robe that fell to the floor. Exposing his bare naked and scarred frame to the council. The act was a symbolism of his dedication to what the others were saying, he wanted them to see the truth.

His eyes wandered across the room to observe the wide eyed expressions of his audience whose jaws had dropped.

"What are yo-"one of the sages attempted but Vrein didn't let him speak.

"You want proof? THIS is what the creature that you once called Arcantos did to me; the man who I thought was a companion of the convoy who was consumed by magic into this abomination. THIS is what your magic has done. I would have died in that pass had it not been for my comrades. I got lucky. But what happens when those that can fight can fight no longer? What happens when you who know so much about the world from the inside of you enclosed studies have to take the front line because you couldn't listen to honest people? Can you handle it?" He challenged with a hard hazel stare.

"If in your ignorance you decide to ignore this threat I look forward to the day when I see your children being devoured by the ancient fucking magic you so love, ripped apart like I was."

With that, Vrein began hobbling away from the center of the room, he did not wait to hear what they had to say. "I'm done," he whispered underneath his breath. Dizziness caught up with him as he stumbled, drifting into a haze. The colours of the room beginning to blur accompanied by the faint sound of voices that grew further and further away from him, yelling. Looking up at the crowd his eyes searched for Ilsa, he reached for her.

The cold had found its way back to him.

Vrein had reached his limit.

He collapsed.

 

[Noctis the Devious]

Tavark

You didn't have to make it sound so ominous, Amara inwardly remarked with a frown. While she didn't know Ture for long, she considered him a friend and it was just out right unpleasant hearing such a thing. She hugged herself and tucked her freezing hands under her arms in an attempt to keep them warm. Damn it Ture, if I'm waiting out here just to bury you, I am so going to bring you back to life and murder you. Oh if only she knew the fate that had previously befell the paladin.

Off in the distance, the sounds of Ture's struggle with the dragon could be heard and she flinched with each boom and bang that resounded over the winter's howl. The occasional order and shout from the raiders could also be heard and it made Amara feel exposed, especially with the tavern in the state it was in. Eventally, she found herself pacing. Tang stood on some rubble, paws resting on his staff, following her movement's with his head. Every now an then his nose would twitch or he'd look over at Darin with an eyeless gaze expressing interest and curiosity.

Then there was a deafening crash and for a split second, Amara's heart stopped beating. It was if the whole city itself was knocked into a stun silence. "That-- That sounded like the wall," Amara murmured in disbelief. She quickly snapped out of it and turned toward Darin with a new found urgency. "You need to get out of here. I'm not sure how long this blizzard is going to last and we need to take advantage of it while we still can."

"And what about you? I can't just--"

"You're useless to me as you are now," she cut in. "You couldn't even hold that shield earlier and you want to come with me on a rescue mission? Are you out of your mind? You'd be nothing more than dead weight!"

Darin stood with his mouth open, but any argument died on his tongue. Out of the pair of them, she was uninjured for the most part albeit suffering from fatigue, but even then she was more capable than him to get to Ture. His shoulders slumped in defeat and gave a resigned nod. "Be careful out there." Amara gave her own nod and with that, they parted ways.

As Amara thought it would, the blizzard began dying down. The risk of leaving tracks increased by each passing minute and the plied up snow made it difficult to traverse the town without falling in and getting stuck. For a split, frightening second she nearly lost her boot. Come on, come on! Where the hell could he be? She paused mid stride upon coming across some blood and she paled. Her pace quickened. Oh gods, please be alive. Please be me that finds him first. Her heartbeat thrummed in her ears as her search effort became more frantic. Her breath then caught in her throat. The avain laid sprawled out over the snow appearing to be unconscious with a long piece of wood jutting out of his leg. She fought back the impulse to call his name and sprinted toward Ture, falling on her knees at his side.

"Oh gods, oh gods; please be alive," she pleaded as she checked his pulse and then made sure he was breathing. the breath she didn't know she was holding escaped her when she realized he had a heartbeat and had retained the ability to use his lungs. Alright, sleeping beauty, time to wake up. The huntress lightly slapped at his face to try and get him to come to. Eventually Ture stirred, blinking open his eyes but having to squint against the sudden brightness that accompanied the action.

"Amara...?"

"Shhh!" she hissed, slapping a hand over his mouth. The raiders shouts and orders could be heard as they attempted to gather their bearings and that had her worried. "We need to get you out of here, which requires you standing..." Ture grimaced at the thought but nonetheless allowed the huntress to pull him to his feet and rested most of his weight against her. Searing pain shot through the avian with the movement but all Amara could do was muffle the cry of pain with her bracer. "Come on, you can do it. Baby steps..."

 

[Navras]

Aldus - Azareth Searching

The cold winds of the night blew through Aldus at a suddenly blistering pace, making the walking Azareth wrap up in his cloak all the more. Fortunately, the Rusty Tankard was in sight and soon he'd be inside, warm and in his own room where it was private.

Just as he was getting into the light of the tavern, a man walked out. He seemed... vaguely familiar. Was this man a member of the city guard he'd seen? He had to be sure, especially now that he had the information that he had.

"Excuse me, could I borrow you for a moment?" Azareth asked, stepping forward more into the light and calling out in as cheerful a voice as he could. Dane, the man who he was speaking to, turned in his direction and gave him a scrutinizing look. "What can I do ya for...?"

"I'm sorry, it's just that I recognize you... you wouldn't happen o be a member of the city watch, would you?" Dane nodded and turned towards the masked scholar. "Aye, that I am. Was there somethin' you were needin'? 'Cause I was just headin' home ya see..."

"Oh no, it's nothing that requires the services of a guard," Azareth assured, raising his hand and waving it through the cold night air. "You see, I was just recently employed into the council's service's as a scholar, and as a scholar, it is one of my duties to know who is and isn't in the city guard. Could I just ask your name?"

Dane looked at the man with more than a little distrust. "Dane Myros..." he divulged more than a bit hesitantly.

Bowing his head, Azareth said quietly in the still of the night, "Thank you for your time, Dane Myros. I wish you a good night," before standing up straight and turning around, taking his steps towards the Rusty Tankard. Dane turned and headed home himself, keeping in the back of his mind the scholar and reminding himself to see if he really was working for the council the first chance he got...

In the dim light of the Rusty Tankard, just outside of the door, Azareth stopped. He reached into his cloak and pulling out the scroll Nathaneil had gotten him. Unrolling it, he peered over the list of names and information, looking for it... Dane Myros, one of the newest initiated if not the newest to the watch... Rolling the scroll back up, Azareth tucked it away and opened the door to the bar.

Hearing the door open up, a few patrons turned their heads to see who had entered. One man, Atorious Cale, kept his eyes on him. From his seat next to the quite frankly vicious woman who had been making eyes at him earlier that evening, the son of the council was struck with an odd chord of memory. He'd seen this man before. Who was this and what were they doing here?

Excusing himself, Atorious stood up and made his way through the bar towards Azareth, leaving behind a rather sullen wench. "Could a stranger buy another a drink?" he asked, coming within earshot of the man in the bar. Azareth turned his head and looked at the man in front of him. "I didn't come here to drink, I came to sleep."

"Then you must have something to sleep on," Atorious said. "In any case, a mug of ale or a glass of wine always helps me sleep better at night. Perhaps it will show you the same kindness - give you a chance to unwind those bandages and wet your lips."

"Then I'll have you buy me a glass of red wine."

Smiling, Atorious swung his arm wide towards the bar and walked towards it. "Barkeep! A mug of ale and a glass of red wine," Atorious called out, drawing the attention of the owner. He went about getting their drinks, while Atorious turned to Azareth and leaned against the bar. "I am Atorious Cale."

"Is the name supposed to mean something?" Azareth asked, perfectly still as opposed to the lax man beside him. "I thought it might," Atorious confessed."I saw you today, in the council building."

"... Did you?"

"You're a hard man to miss with your specific attire... so how is it that we're only meeting now for the first time?"

"Perhaps I'm not so easy to see as you think."

"No, perhaps not," Atorious said, just as the bar owner sat down the mug and the glass. Atorious picked up his mug and slid the glass over towards Azareth. "Would you like to make a toast, friend?"

"Oh I never make toasts, I'm no good at them," Azareth said. Atorious pondered a moment before raising his mug and saying, "To good times, may they ever come our way." He tilted the mug back and began to drink hearty from it. Azareth stood still.

"You thought I would know your name. Why is that?"

"I thought everyone in Aldus knew the name of Cale," Atorious said, setting his mug down on the bar. Azareth set his glass of wine down beside it. "I am the son of Councilman Cale, which makes me pseudo royalty to some."

"I see... then I work for your father," Azareth admitted. "Ah! So that is why you were at the council building today! Let me guess; an adviser? Or perhaps a messenger from Bravelle?" Azareth shook his head. "A scholar, actually." Atorious took another sip of his ale. "A scholar? You don't look the type. Scholars are old men and young fools in robes, prowling for books and scuttling along with this bit of paper and that."

"And so do I look more the part of a scholar to you?"

"No. The truth is, I don't know what you look like... so how could I know?"

Someone shouted for the bartender and he moved past the two to attend to another customer. "Well, it was pleasant meeting you Atorious Cale, but I must be off to bed."

"So soon? But we have only just begun to get to know one another!" Atorious protested. "But I have just told you the reason I must go, I work for your father, the councilman - it would not do to have me sleeping on the job." Atorious waved his hand through the air and took another drink of ale. He was going to continue to keep the scholar there and try to learn his name, but as he put the mug down he found he was already half way across the bar and heading to the back. He sighed and made a note to ask his father about the bandaged scholar in the morning... if he could stand properly in the morning.

"Anything else for you?" the barkeep asked, getting a grunt as a reply and a head shake. The owner lifted up his head to see if anyone else needed him and came face to face with his tenant. "Would you come to my room in fifteen minutes?" he asked. The barkeep hesitated for a moment before nodding. As he watched Azareth walk back to his room, he told himself that he was working too hard, that all he wanted was some food before bed more than likely, that he had been a quiet tenant and hadn't done a thing wrong.

Fifteen minutes later, the owner of the Rusty Tankard made his way out from behind the bar and towards the back. He walked over to Azareth's room and knocked on the door. There was no response. He opened the door and peered inside. All was dark inside and all was still.

From the shadows a hand shot forth and wrapped itself tight around his mouth so that he couldn't scream. Dragged forward, the door was shut behind him and all was dark. The bar tender began to struggle, only to feel a cold mass at his back. Then there was pain - in his hands, in his ankles, all over his body - as if something were biting him. Before his eyes, images of three eyed devils pranced in the darkness. They danced in a wicked orgy of debauchery and gore.

"Do you see them? They see you... they see all," Azareth whispered, his voice right in the ear of his captive. All at once, the eyes of the demons before him all focused on the innocent man in unison. "They're coming... they'll be here soon... you can perceive them with your mind, all of us can, even if we don't know it. Don't squeal at them, for they are the almighty. Don't squeal, it's all in your head." Azareth let go of the bar tender and all at once everything stopped. The sudden intake in mental stimuli coupled with the equally sudden stop of it proved too much for the bar owner's frayed nerves and he toppled over onto the floor. Azareth stepped over the limp body and headed over to his bed.

"They are coming..."

 

[ReaperOfFlames]

Castigarian - The Halls of Barvelle, Cadetblue

Once the door to the chamber had closed, the rest of the conversation was lost to Castigarian, not that he had much of a mind for it at the moment. From what he'd heard, things were far more dire than he'd been lead to believe...and that was saying something considering the dreams that ate away at his mind.

He was left to ponder questions one might consider basic. Where should they go from here with the knowledge they had? What course of action could they take and what options were left to them?

While these were normal things to ask, at this point the hunter had no way of answering them, a fact which frustrated him greatly. He was used to carefully calculating his actions, having the time to think through things before making a decision, but time was no longer on his side. The Ghoul Sage's influence had clearly expanded beyond the scope of a mere blight and it was rapidly growing with no signs of stopping; what was he, a normal man with a bow and arrow expected to do against a threat such as this?

He sighed deeply, shaking that thought from his head the second it entered; he was a Pegulian pure and proud, and as an able bodied individual, it was his duty to his homeland to stand firm and defend it from any and all threats.

Being normal in the face of a monstrous magical force was no excuse as far as he was concerned.

He silently reflected on this before the door to the chambers opened once more as the three sages exited and he was addressed by a woman with hair the color of the setting sun. While her dialect had dulled and her mannerisms were proper, a Tavarkian could always tell their kin apart from commonfolk and the sense of familiarity she brought with her was welcome indeed.

He reached a hand out to grasp Helena's wrist while his free hand placed its hand on her shoulder in return; an old Tavarkian greeting and show of trust between kin. "Aye, 'tis always a pleasure t'see a fellow T'varkian." he said, the warm smile on his face standing oddly against his gaunt features and sunken eyes.

He listened intently as both Helena and Sage Michel gave him their options for dealing with his dreams in both their effects and side effects, leaving him to consider the risks and rewards of both. On one hand, he'd be able to sleep, but the pain he felt while awake would persist. On the other hand, he'd be able to function free of pain, at the cost of losing the knowledge he'd gained, as well as the memories of those in the caravan who'd so bravely given their lives for the cause. After a few moments, Castigarian faced the two sages and gave them a firm nod as he spoke, having finally made a decision on the matter. "I'll take m'chances with t'deathroot. T'forgo t'memories of those who gave their lives in tha' godsforsaken pass...t'would be unforgivable. 'S t'responsibility o't'livin' t'carry on t'memories o'those who've passed after all."

He might have continued on, but once more he found himself looking down at the same young man who had summoned him before...and now he was being summoned again. He shook his head slightly, finding a small bit of humor in the absurdity of being summoned twice in a day and bade the sages farewell as he began to follow the young man once more. "I hope yer compensated well lad with all t'runnin' around y'do."

Castigarian - Barvelle Governor's Assembly, Cadetblue

Castigarian gave the young man a few coins for his trouble in leading him around and entered the Assembly Hall silently as his hunting skill would allow, taking a seat near Ilsa for lack of anyone more familiar being present.

As the meeting commenced, many a person stood up in the center of the room. Some were calm, some shouted and tensions flared at every turn; what was solidly agreed upon by most of the speakers however was that the Ghoul Sage had become a greater threat than they could have ever anticipated. Even Ilsa took her turn in speaking, telling the assembly of what they'd faced in their time between departing Aldus and finally arriving here, though at the mention of his name, he finally stood tall and strode out to join his Pegulian sister, clasping a large hand on her shoulder in a show of solidarity before he began to address the assembly itself.

"Cap'n Lisbon speaks t'highly o'me, e'rey man and woman in our caravan fought with bravery befittin' their ancestors. I'm here t'tell all o'ye tha' e'erything Ilsa's said is t'truth...I've seen it wit m'own two eyes. E'ery night, m'mind is run through t'same visions...I've seen Pegulis bathed in liquid fire...I've heard t'screams o'the dead an' dyin', and if we jus' sit here prattlin' on 'bout what ifs an' maybes, then 's gonna happen all o'er again! Maybe even worse than a'fore!" Castigarian said, slamming his fist into his open palm, sending a loud bang echoing throughout the assembly chamber if only to get the attention of anyone who might not be listening well enough. "On this, we mus' all be united as one, not divided an' bickerin' amongst ourselves. T'many people have already died b'cause of t'Ghoul Sage, we canna afford t'wait anymore. We're Pegulians! T'pride of all t'northern lands for our intelligence! With our best minds here, there ain't a task we can't overcome! So let's start puttin' all that power t'wards puttin' an' end t'this threat a'fore any more have t'suffer a'cause o'that accursed bastard!"

His roar of a voice seemed to shake the assembly hall itself down to the core of the ice, sending small flecks of ice from above floating down as Vrein walked in. Castigarian was glad to see the man up and about, but no sooner had he discarded his robe did that happiness melt from him. His body was scarred in ways the hunter had never seen and the weakness with which he walked was enough to make even the strongest of men cringe, yet he still stood and addressed the assembly with the same power as he had only a moment ago.

Unfortunately, his display seemed to take its last toll on the smithy and as he began to walk away, he swayed and then began to fall before Castigarian rushed to his side, catching the smaller man in his arms. With some help, he managed to rerobe Vrien before he easily lifted the man into his arms, only stopping his movements long enough to cast a final glance at the members of the assembly hall. "Pray this be t'last example y'need t'see o'what's going on." and with that, the hunter left the hall, his feet carrying him back to the church where Vrien had been staying while he was recovering. "Dunno ifin' y'can hear me, but yer a damned fool walkin' about in this kind'a condition. A fool...but yer damn well ten times most men, I'll give y'that. Now let's get y'back t'some food 'n rest a'fore y'give out on us completely."

 

[Asmodeus]

Tavark

Three sets of footprints, from the black ruin to the white curtain, dotted with red. The first were light, the second frail with injury, the third heavy with weight of armour and dragging like a sled. Of the three this latter seemed to vanish or drift amidst the others.

The third escapee was being carried.

The prints and blood spots were lost in the blizzard. The tracker did not follow them. Instead he turned from the tracks and picked his way over impaled boulders and scattered roof tiles. He moved towards something else. And with each step he wheezed, breath caught on blood and swelling. One shoulder was low, dislocated from the socket, and two broken ribs brought further rasping. From his limp hand a sword dragged, massive and ill-tempered, the hilt unbound, one edge unsharpened. He had found it as he followed the noise of destruction.

He circled, the blizzard howling on the edges of fallen battlements, whistling through tunnels of slumped rock and smouldering wood. He came before the thing he was seeking, and straightened his spine with a crack.

Lord Eimund Rath stood amongst the rubble of the south wall, and looked down at the ice dragon.

The beast was now his mirror. It had jarred its neck in the collision and torn one wing to shreds. Liquid ice pumped from its wounds and froze the rubble carpet. With agonizing lifts of its chest it struggled to breathe, and its broken limbs sought purchase in the snow, sweeping angels in vain.

Yet it watched him all the while, its azure eyes unblinking.

Eimund listened to its breath, wheezing like his own. His creature... his war beast... that which he would have tamed and unleashed upon his enemy... was now a ruin. Only the blizzard it had conjured stayed to howl, a billion snowflakes like fairies, mourning farewell.

Eimund hoisted M'Vae's sword in both hands, the injured and uninjured, and with a wordless grunt drove forth the blade. The crunch was sickening. It pierced the dragon's eye, split the cavity and impaled the skull in one clean thrust. The monster shuddered, wings rising in a final arc, then settling as its body slumped. It was over.





The dark sorcerer Suvius crouched a distance off from this, and stared at the footprints. He was unharmed, a picture of diabolical health while his master suffered. The sorcerer traced his dagger around each impression, the symbols of the Orden Brotherhood glinting on the hilt. He laid his hand on the gouge where Darin's foot had passed, then dabbed a finger in Ture's blood. His gaze turned to the storm-soaked horizon.

"They will bring Horrikson's army."

Eimund left M'Vae's blade inside the dragon and slumped against it, turning to rest his back. Though injured he was dread silhouette amongst the battlements. Durael and other raiders stood scattered amongst the debris, each staring at silence at the damage Ture had caused. "I'll feed their families to them." Blood and spittle sprayed with every curse.

Suvius rose. "The south wall is breached. Even God cannot hide that from them."

Eimund spotted a runner pushing through the ranks. He nodded then looked back to his sorcerer. "They're the ones who need to hide." A chuckle sent more fluid down his chin. The runner reached him, and handed over a stack of bundled scrolls, bound in twine. Eimund dismissed the boy then sorted through them with a jerking hand, dropping most of them as the twine broke. But some he grabbed and unfurled, scanning the contents. A wheezing laugh shook him as he leaned against the dragon.

"God reveals all things."

Suvius tilted his head, cancerous eyes curious. But Eimund merely turned and yelled to Durael, his voice bellowing through the ruins.

"KAUSTIRAN!" He held out one of the scrolls, the parchment dangling to show a map, drawn painstakingly by Ture, denoting the ruins and mountain passes around the Secret City of Barvelle.

Eimund smiled. "I have something for your friends back home."