Shards Chapter 1 - How it all began... (IC)

Three crystals and two hundred gold? Tara had barely even seen a fortune like that! She snatched up the reward quickly- then yelped a bit as the orange crystals reacted poorly to being moved too fast. With a bit more sense now, she wrapped them back in the cloth they'd come in and stowed them away in her bag - those things were extremely temperamental. The gold, though? That she pocketed right away. When the time came to move, she decided to go with the others. Partly in the hopes of more to come, partly because she actually had nothing better to do. Her last job, like most of the jobs she had, had fallen through recently.

When the group split up, though, she decided to go along with the teacher and see this college for herself. If she was going to be spending time here she might as well get to know it. Besides, she was curious.
 
The corpses were cold. In several ways. Though it tickled him to see holy men like this, "Dust to dust! Too bad though, I would have liked to fight whoever did this." he kicked the corpses and heard the faint sound of money in pouch. His favorite sound.

"Old man, this is odd. And I am entirely certain it is not natural. So, " he fished out the gold and tossed it to the old man, "Buy yerself Warriors Weed and Mandrake when ye have the chance. It will be invaluable soon enough." He went for the buckle, the one thing truly more out of place than the rich robes on a holy man. Unfortunately death, and as quickly as it had come, had also given the man untold strengths and the buckle lay clasped tightly in a dead man's grip.

"By the gods..." He ripped away the fingers with a sickening crunch. "What a lovely ring ye have there Mister Priest Sir. I'll take it as my payment."
The buckle was odd, and though it was embarrassing to admit, the crest was not familiar. It had a sort of look that he felt he had seen a thousand times while being involved with seedy organizations. However just particularly different in just enough ways to be entirely foreign.

"Old man, do ye see anything else. I cannot shake the feeling that ye see the world a wee bit differently than us 'normal' folk. So if ye know something, be sure to spit it out before I have to rip it out." He winked at the old man. The sort of, "lets just say I'm joking, but don't forget I can kill you" looks that those on high horses can so easily make.
 
Rennfield is nonplussed by Gregory's threats. "I know these people." He kneels down to scrutinise them more thoroughly. "Francis and his cronies. Very influential in the church. Of course, saying that gives them too much credit." He gazes up at the culmination of the chapel roof. The ramshackle stained glass had long since faded into an unimpressive pallor. "Unfortunate, I would've liked to give him a piece of my mind before he departed for the pearly gates, or some other place I could care to name." He absently kicks one of the felled bodyguards in the ribs, and his foot sinks into the cadaver satisfyingly. "Anyway, I don't see anything out of the ordinary."
He is almost disgusted at how callous he is in the presence of death. But he really did despise these people.
 
As Krim falls to his knees and starts blaming himself for the tragedy, Drayko walks up behind him and smacks the back of his head. "It's not your fault this happened! If we hadn't noticed it and came along, someone else would have!" he exclaimed heatedly. "Lives are lost everyday and you just protect those you can and make sure to give those you can't a proper burial." He slowly winds down from his rage-fit and breathes slowly. "All right then, Krim," he says softly. "I will get the survivors out and help you bury the others. I am sorry I blew up at you though." Drayko goes to the first person and checks if they are alive and continues along until he finds a few. He then takes them and carries them to the College. He makes several trips to and fro the houses, saving all he could. After all the survivors made it to the college, he started digging graves for the fallen. After they were all buried, he proceeded into the College after the teacher and says to him, "I filled up some waterskins earlier and I have a medical kit in my pack if they are needed. I have extra food as well." He slowly sits down at the entrance to the College and sets his pack in his lap, waiting for anyone who needs the things he offered.
 
George stood in awe for a moment at the teacher's sudden display of magic, and couldn't help but follow her into the college, intrigued by her abilities. Not to mention if there were to be any dangers ahead the teacher seemed the most adept at overcoming such situations, and George had no intention of putting himself in unnecessary risk. He strode cautiously toward the large, looming doors, not far behind Tara.
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"Medical supplies won't be necessaries... I'm going to go make a tally of what's missing."

One could see what she meant by that - there was only a few bodies, in a state similar to the ones in the house. Everything smelled burnt, and there was very little nothing. Though the teacher called out once more. "Someone get me Krim, we have red gems to handle."
 
Krim entered the College as he heard his name called, looking to the teacher as he brushed the mud and dirt from his clothes, pulling a large pair of gloves out of his pockets, before sliding them onto his hands as he approached.
"Where are they?" he spoke aloud in a serious tone, his voice almost booming, yet it was merely the depth resonating from it as he looked to the others nearby. "If they're uncoated, I would recommend that you all stay back for your own safety while I do so."
 
The teacher pointed to a charred body in a corner. It was laying face-down, and three thumb-sized green gems were embedded in the burnt flesh - like they had been thrown or used to stab.
 
"I thought you said they were red?" Krim said as he removed the green crystals, which were hot to the touch, as he placed them in a small pouch he removed from his pocket, replacing it with a sigh as he looked over the body.
"This isn't the kind of burn red gems leave behind," he said, gently rubbing the burnt flesh, a small powder coming off onto his fingers, which was almost unbearably hot, causing his eyes to widen, "unless it's blood dust, named for the fact that, if inhaled, it boils the blood and ignites the body from the inside. It's what you get when you grind red gems between a pair of blue ones, and it's highly volatile."

Returning to his feet, he looks to the teacher, a sad look upon his face as he moved his gaze to the others. "This is the origin of the fire, and there are only two ways this could have happened: that they inhaled the dust willingly, in an attempt to destroy the college from the inside, or they were forced to, as one could not accidentally inhale the dust unless they were the one who made it, and the effects begin almost immediately, so I doubt that could be a possibility."

Looking to the others' feet he shook his head as his gaze returned to the body. "There's no black mist. Shadow Stone powder is the only way to trasport red gems without special equipment, and you have to lace a bag with it in order to transport blood dust without it burning through. There's no black mist residue anywhere, therefore the dust had to have been brought here by other means."

Turning to the pair who had made their way to the church earlier on, he gave them a curious look. "Did either of you find anything strange in the church? Anything at all?"
 
Gregory didn't like people. But this old man? He definitely didn't mind him. Had the old man been 50 years younger he surely would have made a superior ally. He was satisfied by the scene before him, knowing that there was little more to uncover.

"We should see what is being done elsewhere. Come on, old man." He began towards the great wooden doors and noted on his way out the splintering and stress fractures. "Whatever came through here is surely my target. No doubt..." He mumbles. "Ye here me old man? Unless yer sayin yer prayers it would be best we head off."

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As Gregory walked into the college he was greeted with a brief interrogation. He walked quickly to the source of attention.

"No. Not truly. They killed the man from up on high." he noted, throwing the orange crest to the Scholar. He would know what it meant. The giant was inferring quite a bit. Though, knowing the method helped Gregory a good deal.


Gregory looked at the charred corpses, "Lunch? No, too well done. Though I could go for those stones, what say ye hand them over here for a moment?" He held out his hand.
 
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Krim removed the pouch from his pocket, opening it to reveal the green gems, they were still warm, yet not as hot as they had been, wiping the soot-like powder from them back into the bag before sealing it once more and replacing it, setting the emerald stones into the other man's hand. "They're rather crude, but I'd say that they're either shards from a spine blade, remnants of arrrows, or some kind of poorly crafted dart. They have to be handmade, because no smith worth his forge would ever leave shards in that poor of a condition, no matter how small they are."
 
Gregory took the gems. They were in fact crude, and looked as though they had been shattered by some sort of impact to him.

"We have not been introduced; I am Sir Gregory, a knight of the Old Order of Sacred Magi. You may call me Sir Gregory, or you may call me Left Hand." He pounded his chest. A sort of warriors salute and the only courtesy he would likely ever give to anyone.

He placed one of the stones into his mouth and felt the warm burning sensation bit at his tongue and throat. They were dimmed severely but it was strong enough to register. "This tastes horrible." He moaned. "But I have what I need. I will do some... research. Let ye know if and when anything comes up."
 
The teacher rubbed his forehead. "Yeah, that's why I picked yellow magic. Yellow is distinctive. Red and green? Not so much. And you're the red expert - I didn't even know they powdered red gems... This makes no sense at all. Why bother with all of this trouble?"

With that being said, he turned the body around, face-up. The body was holding a partially burnt piece of paper. The teacher seemed especially saddened. "So Jacob's gone... May he rest in peace."

The teacher retrieved the paper, and unrolled it. It appeared to be a map - though most details were obscured by soot or burnt away.
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Upon being presented the decoration, the teacher's face crinkles. "This is not good. This is the royal crest of a kingdom we… aren't always friendly with. The King needs to see this. Though I cannot guarantee we won't be stopped… Maybe you're not ready. Who's for a little joust of improvised training?"

Do you step forwards for training or step away to suggest going to the King immediately?
 
Gregory knew very well there was no training to be had that could better prepare him. So he would wait, once more, to travel where the majority would go. It would make his job easier not to do more than was needed of him. It was time once more to employ his self restraint.

"I abstain. I will go when and where I am needed." He grumbled. "Though I might need a geography class. There should not have been a nations crest in the world I don't know..."
 
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Sir Gregory. My name is Krimsun Blayse Lukzfurro, the Heartstone Smith, but my friends call me Krim or Lucky." the large man said with a smile, hitting his own chest with a slight clang reverberating from it, returning the gesture, before turning to the scholar.

"Blood Dust is usually used by rogue factions as a call to, or a declaration of, war. If you say the crest is from another kingdom, I would believe that they intend to invade our lands, or wipe us out entirely, making us being as prepared as possible being the best course of action. There is also a second option, in that they planted evidence against this other kingdom to spark a war to leave both countries weak before swooping in for the kill." Looking to the others before scanning the room, he decided it would be best to address the group as a whole.
"If we go on to the next phase of our training, we may be better prepared to face whatever we discover. After that is complete, it would be best to ask the King's council before running off towards this other kingdom, as he may be able to provide us supplies and an easier means of transportation so that we may get to the bottom of this mystery. I will do just as the good Sir, and allow the majority to decide our course of action, yet I've already spoken my two cents on the matter."

As Krim finished his speech, he lay against the wall, reaching into his pocket to remove a small pouch, opening it and applying its contents under his shirt before resealing it, replacing it, and wiping the black residue onto his already dirtied pants, waiting for the others to make the decision, not caring whether or not they heeded his advice, but hoping he may have helped give them an idea of a proper course of action.
 
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Rennfield could not stop scrutinising the body in awful sobriety. The boy... Jacob, as the teacher had referred to him as, was but a young lad. His immense, horrified eyes stared ahead, as though he felt cheated that the reaper should harvest him so soon.
You felt none of these sensations for Francis and his lackeys, Rennfield. You are very conflicted.
But this was different. Were Francis left alive, he would continue to embezzle the church and bully the monks. If this boy were alive, he would continue to study, to amass a respectable pool of knowledge, and live the life of a scholar. Much later, he would've died in serenity, having been satisfied with his life.
But he had been cheated of that result, and now here he lay and mouldered...
He was sure he would not do well in a diplomatic, civil meeting with a sovereign, but this was a travesty, a sadistic loss of life.
He would go to the king immediately.
 
Drayko nodded at the teacher and said. "All right then sir." He watched Krim check the bodies and shuddered slightly. He walked to the left wall and slid down it. "Haven't we had enough ludicrous things happening today?" he intoned quietly. "It really is not my day." He looks up as Krim starts his speech and listens to it. He feels that Krim has a good point and agrees with him. "I would like to prepare myself and go on to the next phase of my training. I want to be able to help the people and keep others safe. I am with you Krim." Drayko said with conviction as he stands and makes his way towards where Krim is resting. "Would you like some food or water? I have enough to go around." he says to all his companions as he sits down again, this time by the opposite wall.
 
Tara shook her head dazedly. "I'm still trying to wrap my head around all this," she said. "It's like, one minute I'm inventing stuff and the next I'm surrounded by dead bodies and apparently someone from another kingdom could be behind it. Or being framed. I mean, just dropping the seal right there seems kind of unlikely. But whatever, that's not the point yet. There's no way we're all equipped to face this crazy. I know I'm not. I say we train up a bit first. We might lose some time, but we're less likely to lose our lives. And, uh, didn't someone mention a couple of guys back there had orange steel shields? I mean, I'm not trained with shields, but it seems pretty basic and those would be incredibly useful. Just sayin'."
 
Rennfield looks up at Tara. "You can collect them if you please. I don't wish to come into contact with them. They've been in the hands if Francis. They'd might as well be tainted."
He informs the teacher of his wish to confront the king.
 
Gregory was a bit disappointed. Surprisingly once again he found himself with the old man. He could not deny that these people would need more training though. If they did't need it he would not even be here, likely. So he sighed deeply before saying,

"Aye, training it seems." Feeling cheated out of an opportunity to kill something once again.
 
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