"I am. The princess will not be, sooner or later. The longer it takes for her to accept her greater place in history, the more pain she will suffer unto herself and those she keeps closest."
-Marcus, Page 5.
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Without The Sword
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The first sensation everyone would experience is a sensation of colours, mostly shades of purple and blue. Blurry, and incoherent, and followed rapidly by whispers. Somehow, all of them, in each their own way, could tell that they were no longer within their own minds. They had been taken somewhere.
Mikan slowly opens her eyes, and looks around. Beside her were... Were... Two people she somehow recognized, but who looked nothing like themselves. Rahim, and Kalemn. The three were dressed as peasants, and were scrawny. They looked malnourished, with sun burnt skin from what was likely many hours out working in the fields. Together they were waking up from behind a hay cart, left auspiciously in an alley—as though it was simply dropped there and left behind. The roads were made of dirt, and the structures around were made of the lowest quality clay and hay. It was a poor town. "Mit dem Vater, was ist das? Ein Traum? (By the Father, what is this? A Dream?)"
As Mikan stumbles to her feet, she shakes out her head and coughs. "I haven't felt like this in a couple years..." She mutters under her breath. She recognized what it was, the familiar pangs of hunger, the weakness and mild dizziness. The other two would feel it too, none of them were in their bodies, yet they recognized each other on sight.
Beyond the alley and the hay cart was the sound of a crowd, murmuring.
Murmuring, and pointing their fingers, chuckling and giggling in mockery at a boy who had been knocked off his feet. Dean would find himself in his own body unlike the others, and yet, he was lying against the dirt, with a blade pointed toward his throat: He had presumably just lost a duel, as his own weapon was a couple feet away from his hand. Around him were whispers from the crowd. "Weak." "Fool." "What a moron."
The blade is slowly lifted away from his neck, allowing him to move and get the glaring sun in the mid day sky out of his eyes long enough to recognize who had taken him down. It was Ryker, though he was wearing fancier armour than what might perhaps be considered usual. "See? He is scum, princess. He barely deserves to till the field, leave alone fight anyone." Behind Ryker stood Kouri, though she had a scar running down the left side of her face, and her blue eyes were filled with a dismissive veneer.
As the sunlight cleared from his sight the face before him snapped him back to a past he had thought he'd left behind if only briefly. Before him Ryker stood as imposing as he'd ever been, and while Dean couldn't be sure where he was for sure being at the tip of Ryker's blade was never a good place to be. He scrambled away like a child might, but felt weak, weaker than he had in many years, and was barely able to bring himself to his hands and knees without floundering. As he slipped once the crowd erupted with more laughter, more pointing and more insults. A flash of rage surged through him. He punched the ground in a brief fit before finally reaching his feet.
He turned again to face his teacher, his face flush with a familiar anger, but he noticed he didn't stand with the same height he once thought he had. His arms were burnt and thin, as they had been when he was younger, and he felt less in control than he would prefer. Whatever was happening did not sit well with him. "... Though what can you expect from a boy such as this? Eager to impress, but ultimately he holds no value as a true soldier, poor stock is all it is." He pointed to a young man who had been standing next to Kouri. There was a resemblance between Dean and this boy, but he was handsome where Dean was not, and strong where Dean was simply small."Garrett, pick up your sword. Let your idiot brother touch it again and you won't soon be able to pick it up at all. the shock of the statement nearly sent Dean back down to the ground. He glanced briefly for a moment as Garrett did as he was told with a sad look on his face before he could no longer look at his brother and simply stared at his own feet.
Questions blazed through his mind like stars in the night sky. How could Garrett be alive? What had happened to Kouri? To him? When had Ryker arrived? Where had he even arrived to? Dean scanned his area wildly. Small huts lined up in every direction formed a series of small concentric circles rounding about the open area they all now stood in. With a dry gasp he recognized it as a small village close to the Mountains he had lived in as a child, and his legs grew somehow weaker.
"I shouldn't be here." He heaved for breath, but somehow found none. He searched the crowd that now circled around him. He could make out no faces, but somehow could recognize his family in each of them. His older sister and younger siblings all laughing without mouths, the same for his mother, yet she shouted the insults, and he even caught the silhouette of his father shyly and shamefully excusing himself from the crowd- disappointed in how Dean had turned out.
As the crowd parted to allow Garrett, Ryker and Kouri to exit the opening in the middle, and continue walking down a path that would lead them to pass Mikan, Rahim and Kalemn, and then out of the village. They left Dean still standing alone in the middle of the opening, being taunted and ridiculed by a crowd of his faceless family.
Mikan glances back at Rahim and Kalemn, and grits her teeth before bolting off toward the crowd. She was used to hunger pains, the other two might not have been, but she was. She knew how to deal with it, how to get over the pain, the feeling of weakness. As she does, she grabs a small rock--a pebble, really--off the ground, and lobs it over the crowd, causing it to hit the back of Kouri's head. The princess turns and casually flings a bolt of ice, barely missing Mikan as it strikes the ground a few feet behind her. "What is wrong with you!?" Mikan yells out at the princess. It was unclear whether she completely understood the dream-like state she was in.
Dean would recognize her as his older sister, though looking starved and worse for wear. There were scuff marks all over her arms, implying she had been sleeping on dirt prior to this.
The princess' cold and steely eyes, completely ignoring Dean, simply stare directly at Mikan. "I like the spirit of this one. Reminds me of this Rheinfelder woman I used to know, who was killed because nobody was there to help her... Don't you think it would be nice to pick up a replacement?" She glances to Ryker. "Take her. Surely she will be more useful than that useless, shriveled mess you promised me before. At least she might die properly."
Kalemn, who had been staring at her whole, five-fingered hands, looked up as Garret began to move towards them. "Her?" she asked, trying to defuse a situation she didn't understand. "She hasn't died a day in her life. No experience. Maybe you'll have more luck in the next village. I hear John Pat of Willows stood on death's door and came back laughing." Her words were light but rushed, and her hand shook as she grabbed at the edge of the hay wagon to pull herself to her feet.
Rahim stood for a moment in awe and confusion at his sudden transformation. Gone was the body and strength he was so proud of, replaced by something scrawny and unsuited for war. His skin was the wrong colour, and he felt the not unfamiliar pangs of hunger in his gut, which was strange as he thought he remembered eating before he shut his eyes to sleep.
He looked up at the scene unfurling infront of him. Mikan, who was not Mikan, threw a rock at Kouri, who was not Kouri. The briefly known woman with the scars on her face moved to talk to the stranger in the Princess' skin, all while a scrawnier looking Dean lay on the floor, being mocked by people that Rahim did not know.
The Amazonian was confused, and he felt a revolting sickness in the back of his throat. He did not know what was happening, which meant he suspected magic of some sort. This strange dream-like state had him feeling weak, but as he heard the fake Princess call for Mikan, as if she were some sort of replacement horse, his mind and resolve reminded him of himself. "I fear no dream."
Rahim stood up, feeling the weakness in his legs and the pit of hunger in his stomach, like a knife in the gut. Ignoring it, he grabbed a nearby piece of wood; nothing more than a piece of kindling, and walked forward to interpose himself between the Not-Mikan Mikan, and the False Princess. "I will not let you take my clan away to be slaughtered." It probably cut a miserable picture; the scrawny simulacrum of Rahim standing infront of the reflection of Mikan from the Princess and her new champions, but he stood there; the useless stick raised like a weapon, interjecting himself between them and his new found precious people. He appreciated Kalemn's attempts to dissuade them, as he suspected a real fight would end very quickly, and very much against his favour.
An amused look reached Kouri's face as Kalemn made her remarks, but she kept a Regal composure and urged Ryker on by clearing her voice. Ryker reached for Mikan's wrist looking as if his current task were no more significant than picking a flower from a field. He recoiled however as Rahim stepped between them a wolfish grin snapping into place, his gaze shifted back to Dean within the confines of the crowd and he sneered "Har! Even the runt of the litter has more spirit in him than you do! He looked back to Rahim, an impressive man in glowing armor staring down upon a weakly child to all who gazed on the scene. I advise you to move aside boy. I like you well enough, but her royal pain just wants the sister, so leave us before you start something you can't hope to finish." A flash of irritation sparked across the face of the false queen as Ryker addressed her so informally. "Bring him with us or strike him down, just rid him of my path." with a hug Ryker glance between the Queen and the children. "More the merrier I say. Alright boy, you're coming as well."
As Ryker's hand etched closer to Mikan and Rahim the sky would take on an orange tinge. What mere seconds ago it seemed to be early afternoon now seemed as if it were almost nightfall. Possibly lost in the dull sunlight was the eery glow on Ryker's hand. A sickly green tinge took hold, and if any of the party looked closely enough they might have sworn the hand began to rot. While all this took place Garrett, still with the same solemn look on his face continued towards the mouth of the village, readying his blade for an unknown reason.
Meanwhile Dean still sat in the middle of the crowd, though the activity between his companions had roused his attention. He looked upon Mikan, Rahim and Kalemn but could make out the faces and likeness of his siblings upon them. He glimpsed Ryker's hand approaching them and he shot to his feet. He sprinted forward into and towards the crowd, the faceless beings that comprised it took the opportunity to tear at his skin. "No. NO!" He screamed as a flash of his younger brother appeared instead of Rahim. "They are safe! They have nothing to do with this! Leave them alone! He cried out as he tried to force his way through the crowd while being assaulted. His movement was quick at first, but it seemed the further through he got the more resistance he was met with.
A rush of wing blew through the village, and it carried with it a faint scream, it was a cool enough breeze on its own that would likely send a shiver down anyone's spine, but it also carried with it haunted memories. Memories that Dean knew too well. He shut his eyes and continued in vain to force himself against the wall of the crowd.
Mikan briefly smiles at Rahim before seeing the rest of the situation unfolding. Ryker approaching, Dean attempting to climb through a crowd that was tearing him to pieces... She looks away from Dean, sickened by the sight as she kneels down and grabs a handful of dirt and dust. She grew up an orphan, she grew up running from people bigger than her all her life, even while hungry: None of this was new to her. "Hallo Hässlich! (Hello ugly!)" She throws the loose ball of dirt and dust toward Ryker's face, then turns to bolt away, kicking more dust up with her first step. She was going to try and run. There was little else she could do in her mind.
Kalemn, too, ran. Though only to the far side of the wagon. She had no intention of being caught in the crossfire of her companion's recklessness. "Dean," she shouted out, "this is yours, isn't it? Some memory? So pull yourself together and help!"
Rahim was shocked by the approach of the giant that was Ryker, and he took a few steps back to try and distance himself from the prospective behemoth. Truth be told, Rahim was not used to humanoids being bigger than him. He wondered if this is how he looked to other people for a moment, at least until Mikan threw the ball of dirt and dust in his eyes. Rahim jumped on the opportunity to get away from Ryker, as he sped away from the man; but unlike Mikan, he did not dart for escape. Instead, Rahim moved towards the crowd, and towards Dean. He still had the stick in his hand, as he approached the, strangely, much-taller-than-him figure of Dean.
At first, he had planned to offer the man a hand. That plan soon presented itself as a poor one, when he realised his hands were short and weak and frail looking. The crowd was too thick and unpassable, and it wasn't until he heard Kalemn's suggestion, that this was a dream to be awakened from that suddenly spawned an idea of how he might 'help'. He ran towards Dean, weaving past the crowd as much as possible, and instead of offering a hand, he threw the stick at the man's face; aiming roughly for his nose. It wasn't a particularly strong hit, but he hoped it would at least strike up memories. "I thought you were too proud to yield?"
The dirt hit Ryker square in the face, and he cussed and coughed his way through the dust to strike powerfully and wildly in the spot where Mikan had been a moment ago. Luckily for her she had caught him off guard and bought herself a brief moment. Less lucky was the fact that she underestimated how quickly a man like Ryker would move. In a manner that betrayed how accustomed to drinks and dirt being thrown in his face he was, Ryker was upon Mikan with speed that rivaled her own. His hand shot out before her shock had fully registered, and he caught her face fully in his hand.
Dean had since been forced back into the middle of the crowd, looking at his exposed flesh, now torn and bloodied, he felt the world falling apart. He looked past the crowd briefly at Garrett still walking towards the mouth of the village, and he felt the weight of the world upon his shoulders. The voice reached him as barely a whisper. It assured him that this was a distant memory, and to get up and help. He struck the ground again, perhaps in frustration or even stubbornness and climbed back to his feet. He surged against the crowd again, lashing out at hands that would otherwise tear into him again. Somehow he made more progress this time.
He pressed and pressed against what seemed like an immovable obstacle, reaching midway through the crowd, but it seemed then that they had reached a stalemate. The crowd's constant scratching and tearing was like fire to Dean, and the pain nearly drove him to give up again, but as he was about to he spotted a stick flying in from beyond the crowd. Unable to reach up and deflect it Rahim's stick found it's mark easily enough and it struck Dean on the nose. However the pain didn't come from the stick at all. Inaudible to the companions and perhaps only in Dean's mind he heard that same crack of splitting bone as when Rahim had broken his nose in their spar, and then the familiar rush of pain that had come with it. He lowered his stance and refused the urge to give in. A second voice reached him. Louder this time, and closer. Asking where his pride had fled to. He scanned the crowd for its source and spotted a sole face on the edge of the crowd, for a second it was his younger brother but then for what seemed like only half a second it was Rahim.
Meanwhile Mikan, firmly in the grip of Ryker, would start feeling a sickening fever over take her, starting from where he grabbed her, and slowly spreading across her entire body. Regarding her little more than a hunter would a fox caught in a snare Ryker tossed her aside like a plaything, landing directly at Kouri's feet, before he would start to approach Kalemn in much the same way a predator stalks it's prey. Kouri observed Mikan intently, eager at what would happen next "Are you ready to swear to me as your one true Queen?" she asked as if she already knew the answer, and was indifferent to the response.
Mikan spits at her. "Let me go!"
With an uncharacteristic snort and perhaps the most smug face a noble had ever worn, Kouri looked down upon Mikan as the spit fell harmlessly to the ground. "Fine street rat, but know that when the pain starts mercy will cost you nothing but fealty." Anyone looking at Mikan would be able to see the mottled skin where Ryker had held her, a deep green ran through it and perhaps most confusing to Mikan would be a sweet scent that seemingly came from nowhere. The slight burning she had began to feel throughout her body would begin to intensify more and more, surging outwards from the hand print around her jaw. Beneath the mottled skin she would feel a sensation of bugs crawling as if trying to force their way to the surface. It would feel very much like every nerve of her body were set on fire simultaneously, leaving her little more than a writhing mass of pain and flesh.
Close enough now to see the entire situation outside the crowd, Dean's stomach turned more at the sight of Mikan, who he still saw as his elder sister, in pain on the ground than he had at his own bloodied body. Anger drove him now, and it propelled him even further than he had been, he had steered in the direction of where he'd spotted Rahim, hoping for help, and reached his hand out finding that it did indeed clear the crowd. Garrett meanwhile continued on his path. As he did, the pale orange that had overtaken the small village deepened. The village seemed to be lit by embers without a fire, a full red lighting in the area. The wind picked up again, the scream seemed louder this time as well, almost deeper.
Rahim saw the blood-curdling sight of Mikan being hurt by the queen. He felt a bubbling anger in his gut, an unyielding rage that the proxy body could not satisfy. He wanted to rip and tear and crush and break. He wanted to help Mikan, and punish this fake Kouri, and to split this Ryker down the middle with an axe.
Instead, he focused less on what he wanted to do, and more on what he could do. He didn't have the strength to murder the attackers; this dream state was robbing him of that much. So instead, he reached out a hand to Dean. Stretching as far as he could, wiggling his fingers to try and reach the man in the slowly parting crowd, Rahim tried to bat aside anyone he could reach. "Help her." He said, without any hint of subtlety or context. He doubted that the man would need it.
Mikan gets to her feet, shaking with anger and pain. Yet, there was a cold look to her eyes, as she simply turns away from Kouri. "Keine Hündin lebt für immer. (No bitch will live forever.)" She mutters quietly. Somehow, the pain was not keeping her down. Seeing Rahim helping Dean, she runs to Rahim's side, and then yells out to the crowd. "LET HIM OUT OR I'LL INFECT ALL OF YOU!" She shows off the green around her jaw, that made her twitch in pain as tears started escaping her eyes. She was no stoic, not like Marcus or Kouri. She couldn't hide the pain like they could, but she could fight it. That was enough, for now. "Und schon bald werde ich euch alle töten. Wie die anderen Tyrannen. (And soon I'll kill you all. Like other tyrants.)" She whispers.
Meanwhile, Kalemn darted over, around, and under the hay cart in a desperate attempt to avoid the same fate as Mikan. "You don't want me," Kalemn pleaded to Ryker, the child's eyes she wore wide. "I haven't done anything. I'm harmless. Just look at me."
It was clear as Mikan ran off that the false Princess was not best pleased with the Urchin's behaviour. She opened her mouth as if to make her displeasure known to the group, but was distracted as Ryker walked by, chasing after Kalemn slowly. She looked on amused as the large man taunted his way closer to the small child, hands glowing that sickly green. "Don't be so childish…" He taunted poorly "...succumb to the Princess and let this be done." his face looked devoid of emotion, but his voice seemed to ooze hatred and anguish. Obviously tiring of their game of cat and mouse, he quickly tipped the cart aside and away, leaving nothing between the two of them.
As she revealed the growing infection that was Mikan's neck he crowd turned their faceless attention towards her, though did not falter in clawing at Dean. Rahim however figuratively and literally flew under their radar, swatting and clearing away obstacles between himself and Dean's outstretched hand. Reaching out towards Dean, Rahim feel a significant yet invisible force pull on himself towards the center of the circle; as if he too were being sucked into the crowd. Dean spotted the effort on Rahim's part and spent what little power remained to bridge the gap between them.
A loud crack could be heard as the two finally grasped each other, but gone were the appearances of Dean's siblings. In their stead Rahim and Kalemn now stood as they would remember themselves, and while Mikan too had regained her own appearance, the smell, pain and infection still remained sending wave after wave of pain through her. Now back in his familiar body it was little effort for the hulking figure of Rahim to pluck Dean the rest of the way through the crowd, the faceless mass then suddenly became quite docile and backed away quickly. Kouri and Garrett would both look over in disbelief at the sight of Dean emerging from the crowd. The Princess would look on with disgust between the three companions and Ryker while Garrett would look down to his feet with a smile as he continued walking. Rahim could hear Kouri start chanting from where she stood, hands glowing with the same blue intensity their own would.
Dean meanwhile took a moment's rest after being dragged through whatever barrier he had passed. Catching his breath he stood back up, feeling much more himself since this nightmare had begun. He nodded to Rahim and Mikan, unsure how to proceed in thanking the pair. He grasped at words without knowing which ones to choose before a chuckle from Ryker caused a jerking reaction towards him. The anger he had felt as Mikan was thrown to Kouri's feet returned, and he felt invigorated once again as he started a full sprint towards his still distracted mentor. Behind them all, one of the small huts caught fire spontaneously and collapsed in on itself.
Garrett finally reached the mouth of the town, and looked to the Plains ahead while drawing his sword. The wind grew stronger still, and the smell of smoke and ash filled the air. In front of him and fast approaching was a minimum of 20 Orcs, larger than normal, and appearing rather frenzied. They carried a variety of weapons: swords, axes, and even spears were present in the group, and Garrett took on a readied stance for what was soon to come.
Ryker on the other hand was still fast approaching Kalemn seemingly unaware or uninterested in anything else. While sporting an evil grin, the glow of his hand casting discomforting shades of green onto his face and armor meshing and playing with the red lighting of the village around them, and an echoing laugh ringing out between them.
As he approached, Kalemn stumbled back a few steps. Though this time not to flee, but from the jarring shift of suddenly having her own body back. Leather gloves, thick boots, and the rest of her clothes as well, though none of her weapons. No sword, no shield, no daggers. But at the very least she was no longer a starving waif of a child. "That looks important," she observed, directing Ryker's attention towards the orcs with a wave of her hand. Her words remained rushed by stress, but she stood her ground, stance defensive rather than frightened. "Shouldn't you be keeping Kouri-" she started before charging shoulder first into Ryker. First priority was to keep his cursed hand away from her face. Second, to try and steal his sword.
The sensation of being sucked into the circle worried Rahim, as he wondered whether he was making the right decision in helping Dean. He was relieved at first when Mikan appeared close by, but upon seeing the infection that clawed at her neck he felt the simmering anger start to build into a fiery ball of hatred. He channelled it into pushing himself further into the crowd, and he felt the brush of skin on skin; only for the world to crackle and shift.
When his senses were returned to him, Rahim was pleased to find that he was himself again. His childish features were replaced with his actual body, and as he grabbed Dean and yanked him through the crowd, he found a revitalised purpose and strength. His first instinct was to look towards Mikan. She too was back to her normal form, but the cancerous infection on her neck remained, and the kindled rage began to glow hot in the pit of his stomach. He looked towards the source of the sickness, the fake Kouri, and he noticed she was chanting, and focusing on magic. He grit his teeth as he advanced towards her, anger boiling up and balling his hands into fists.
As he advanced closer,the burning ball of white hot rage began to temper itself, and he found himself slowing. He could see the finishing blow in his mind's eye, it would be easy to break her frail form after all; and he could see what the woman would do if he did not make his move, the vision of the frozen lake reappeared in his mind, and just how painful it would be to freeze to death. The thought of what this false-princess had said made his skin crawl. She had talked about how casually she was willing to throw away Mikan's life, and how little easily she thought she could replace the stranger from before.
And yet…
The niggling, biting sensation at the back of his mind clawed at him; asking and re-asking, and re-doubling its demanding question: Did Rahim have the right to attack Kouri? She was a leader after all…His leader. She undeniably ruled the small, makeshift clan, and to attack a clan's Igétis (leader) was no small thing. Did he have the right? The justification? He was just a lowly warrior, after all. An unnamed wanderer.
It wasn't until he heard the sounds of Mikan's growing discomfort that he found his nerve again. If he was fighting for himself, he probably would have failed to make any move against the Princess' doppelganger. Even after three years away from the clan, it was difficult to stray far from what he knew. It had been engrained into his mind. And yet, upon hearing Mikan's pain, and the doppelganger's willingness to inflict more of it upon her finally stoked him forward again. He suddenly sprang into action, moving forward to deliver a single crushing blow to the Princess' face. His aim was to knock her out, because even in this dream, and even though she was unfit to be a leader, he could not bring himself to kill the Princess. Even after all she'd done thus far.
As she regained her old body, Mikan sighed with relief, feeling her athletic body return to her, though the sigh turns sharp as another wave of sickening pain reminded her that she was still afflicted. Still infected. She turns to see the approaching orcs and opens her eyes widely with fear, her hands shaking as she takes a step back from the orcs. "Wir sollten laufen... (We should run...)" Her eyes fall upon the sight of Ryker, then Kouri. She froze up: There was no way that one man--Garrett--could hold the line against twenty Orcs. Once they got past him, they would swarm into town, they would...
... Go after the women.
She looks around once more. "Dean..." She whispers to herself, as she looks over her body and finds no weapons on herself. "Rahim..." She grits her teeth. She would only have time to help one. Kalemn and Dean had Ryker... Rahim... Was going alone after the ice witch?! "Scheiße... Scheiße! (Fuck... Fuck!)" She starts running toward Kouri, though moving left and right, as she tries to catch her attention: If anybody had a chance at avoiding her icy projectiles, it would be herself, right? "MAYBE TYPHON SHOULD HAVE HAD YOU AFTER ALL!" She winced as she said it, not wanting to see the princess in pain, but realizing this wasn't the princess she knew. This wasn't real, couldn't be real. It had to be magic... Damn witch.
At this point the Orcs had reached the mouth of the village, and stood in front of Garrett. An exchange occurred, the words lost in the distance. Afterwards while some laughed, others seemed enraged, but only one advanced. The largest and thickest of them towered over the young man, eyes transfixed on the challenge ahead as the monster drew forth it's own weapon. Behind them villagers emerged from the huts and a panic erupted, spotting the group of Orcs ahead many began to flee towards the center of the village, weaving between huts to escape the village, most tried to grab their family, but few gathered any belongings.
Meanwhile in the center of the village the fire had began to spread to adjoining and nearby structures. What was at first an unsettling red glow was now a fully realized fire, the wind had all but died out by now, yet the peasants of the village had continued the same fervid scream it had carried. Amidst the confusion however, Kouri was still able to pick out Mikan's words. Her chanting ceased and she looked at Mikan with a wounded face that seemed all too sincere. It seemed she was about to respond, lips quivering and arms shaking with rage or an equally powerful emotion, when she finally caught sight of Rahim. Too late to completely stop the charging brute Kouri threw a desperate ice wall between the two of them. The massive man's fist sailed threw the ice like a rock through glass, but while it wasn't enough to stop him it did throw his punch off course. The punch landed squarely on Kouri's cheek and sent her sprawling to the ground, she looked up shocked at Rahim, tears beginning to flow down her face and a great red welt forming where he'd made contact. Without wasting words she reacted by firing an icicle towards him and it found it's mark deep in his left shoulder. It should have been apparent to him at this point she was trying to kill him.
Kalemn's choice to charge her opponent would prove to be the better decision. Her unexpected aggression throwing Ryker off balance, and swinging wildly to regain control. Soon they found find themselves locked, and Ryker's hand was fast approaching her own face as she fumbled still attempting to steal his sword. Mere inches from contact Kalemn would be saved as Dean finally made contact with his target, sending all three of them also hurtling to the ground. While Dean and Ryker dislodged and began a bout of struggling for control and beating each other senseless, Kalemn's toying with Ryker's sword would see it untied and laying on the ground nearby. From her position she could see Dean taking blows from his teacher, but whatever magic or corruption Ryker's hands held seemed to have no effect on the farmhand turned mercenary.
By now whatever exchange had taken place between the Orcs and Garrett was finished. The boy laid dead on the ground, sliced clean through by the Orcish champion. In the end he had bought the village a little time, but the Orcs seemed determined to make up for that lost time setting immediately to task with great enthusiasm as they began ravaging whatever lay in their path. The party didn't have much time before the Orcs were upon them.
All time seemed to slow from Mikan's perspective as she saw the shard of ice lodge itself into Rahim. Yet her breathing was calm, as she turned her focus to Kouri, and moved quickly. There wasn't much distance left. She started murmuring words to herself, to keep her calm, even as pain raced through her body and made her sick to her stomach. "Ich bin das Instrument seiner Gerechtigkeit. (I am the instrument of His justice.)" She jumps and kicks dirt into the air with her boots, sending a spray of dust into Kouri's face. Landing on her stomach with her knees, she grasps the woman's chin and the top of her head. In a single, practiced movement, she attempts to snap the princess' neck, looking away as she does so.
"So durch Seine Gnaden, meine Hände sind schmutzig. (So by His Grace, my hands are dirty.)"
With little time to waste on debating consequences or risks, Kalemn snatched up Ryker's sword, shucked the scabbard, and climbed to her feet. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Mikan begin to run, as well as the orcs move past Garrett's ruined body. Ignoring them, Kalemn moved to the struggling Dean and Ryker to try and kick the older man off and drive his own sword through him. If she managed that, she'd grab Dean by the collar and try and pull him away and out of sight of the orcs.
Anger.
The large man felt a glimmer of annoyance flicker across his mind as his fist first met the Ice Wall, which softened the blow, and then the false Princess' face, which did not do a good enough job of stopping the woman. He was angrier with himself than anything else. He was dragging this fight out, and the look of anguish on the princess' face was like a dagger to his gut.
Pain.
The sharp, stabbing sensation as the Icicle embedded itself into his shoulder had Rahim stumbling back a step. He reached up to touch the Icy spear, as if to confirm its, relative, real-ness. The second sharp pang of pain was enough to make him almost forget the fact that until a few moments ago, he'd been a small, weedy looking child.
Rage.
The knowledge that the woman was trying to kill him kick-started the more primal of Rahim's instincts. The man felt his homeland's fury pump energy into his limbs, as his mind wiped away the reservations he had like so much chalk on the cobblestone. His fists tightened, and his knuckles whitened, and he looked up to see…Mikan, delivering a blow to the false-Kouri's chest. It was surprising to see her in action, moving with such speed, and ferocity, and precision. Her hands moved up to snap the Princess' neck, and as she looked away from the task, Rahim's rage softened. He moved forward and placed his hands on Mikan's shoulders; trying to offer comfort in her moment of struggle. "She is not worth believing in. She is not our purpose here." He said, his eyes looking to meet hers as she tested her faith. He ignored the oncoming hoard of monstrous Orcs, focusing instead on the woman in front of him. She was more important than the dream-horde. She was real, and worth holding onto.
Kouri had started to regain her footing, but Mikan's fast approach had left her in an exposed position. As Mikan kicked sand up into her face she stumbled backwards again spitting and coughing. Forced down further as Mikan landed on her stomach her eyes were wild and a look of distress contorted her face. Mikan's grip on the Princess was tight, and though she struggled she was unable to break free. Mikan would feel frost begin emanating from the Princess' hands but before any magic was performed the deed was done. A swift crack was overheard by Rahim and Kouri's lifeless corpse flopped to ground.
Kalemn's quick thinking would prove to the benefit of Dean as she rushed forward with Ryker's sword. With the two men still struggling with one another Kalemn's kicks served little purpose to dissuade either from giving up; if anything as her attacks made contact the two men seemed to grow more aggressive towards one another. Despite the added obstacle of Dean however, Kalemn was able to make a precise stab into Ryker's chest. Blood spat out on the pair as Ryker gasped for breath as his lungs quickly filled with his own fluids,and his natural systems failed.
It was shocking to Dean who looked upon his teacher's quick death with a mixed bag of emotions. When they had been fighting it hadn't seemed too different from their time together in his eyes, but for however real this was Ryker was as dead as he could be. Now on his knees he surveyed the area around them one last time. The entire village was now lit up in bright flames. He was filled with a nauseous feeling over how exactly he was still able to remember everything as it had been, it had once been a happy place, but he knew now that any joy his first home had ever held was washed away. He looked upon a similar scene where Rahim stood comforting Mikan, the Princess dead at their feet, but the sight just made his stomach turn all the more.
He felt a tug at his collar but ignored it as he tried to see past the approaching Orcs. He saw the corpse of his brother in the distance and he wished to run out for him, as if there were some hope he'd be alive. As if after all these years he had somehow made it away safely and the two of them had just never met again. He wished, but in his heart he knew the truth. The tugging at his collar grew more frenzied as the Orcs grew closer, Dean looked to see Kalemn, and he couldn't help but appreciate her not having left him behind. A solemn smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he made the decision to accept his fate there. He was tired, and he knew they wouldn't outrun these beasts. He looked back to stare his death in the face, and the scene before him would fade into darkness before any pain befell him.
Likewise Mikan would be almost instantly relieved of her pain as well. A cool sensation would overtake her and she would feel as fit and nimble as she ever had. Whatever magic had seized her was lifted surely, and the infected area would be indistinguishable from the rest of her skin. Rahim would undergo the same treatment, his shoulder no longer sporting the large icicle that had previously impaled him. All three of the companions would see the scene around them fade to a familiar blackness just as Dean had, and they would be reminded of the feeling from Kiune transporting them to her grove.
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Vanity's End
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The first sensation everyone would experience is a sensation of colours, mostly shades of purple and blue. Blurry, and incoherent, and followed rapidly by whispers. Somehow, all of them, in each their own way, could tell that they were no longer within their own minds. They had been taken somewhere.
Slowly, but surely, the sound of music takes over. A bard playing a lute. The three appeared to be noblemen to each other, of fair skin and blue eyes. They were sitting at a table, in a large chamber—an ornate throne room. There were many there, perhaps a hundred or so, like themselves. Unarmed, laughing, and eating. Marcus looks to Alexander and Baldrik, nodding as he somehow recognized them in spite of their rather... Spontaneous change of appearance. It seemed they were in the Liverian capital, though it was more lively than it should be. It was rare for Liverians to celebrate anything. It didn't seem clear as to why.
That is, until the main doors to the chamber swing open.
That is the first sound Amaia would hear as she finds herself in chains. Before she could get her bearings, she feels herself shoved forward, slamming into the floor with an unsettling thud. "GET BACK UP YOU SUBHUMAN GARBAGE!" Bellowed the voice of someone she recognized: The leader of the Witch Hunters of Liveria. As she finally gets her bearings, the first thing she would notice would be the green tinge to her skin: Rough and coarse... Most certainly not human. The second thing she would notice, would be the block of wood just a few feet away from the empty throne of Liveria.
It was an executioner's block.
Amaia tries to scramble to her feet, but her movements are sluggish and somehow not right, and with the chains hampering her she slips and falls on her face. Her breath comes quickly, harshly, more like grunts than the sounds she expects. Shit, shit, what is... She tries to speak the words, but she only gets more inhuman noises, more grunts, like a pig trying to talk. A boot planted in her side, an unkind gift from a faceless man from the crowd, sets her moving again. She pushes herself up and scans the crowd wildly, more people with blurry faces, but despite the apparent softness of their features it's impossible to miss their grimly amused eyes and wicked grins. Three faces in the crowd appear normal, all around a table, and though they look unfamiliar she knows them. She tries to shout at them, begging for help, but all that comes out is a snarling roar choked with phlegm.
A shaft of wood strikes Amaia in the back and sends her staggering to her knees. Where before there had been only laughing nobles to each side, now she was flanked by two figures in heavy plate armor, each carrying a spear, and there was only darkness inside their helmets. The club to the back had been from one of those spears, and as Amaia turns to growl something hateful at the wielder her attention is caught by another pair of new figures. A boy of perhaps twelve years stands off to the side in an inexplicably clear space in the crowd, a hooded man with a gleaming axe stands next to him, and a wooden block rests before them. The boy, a child she recalls from her youth, stares directly at her and she cannot tear her eyes away. His name is Tomas, and he's the best pickpocket in their group of street kids, he helps keep them all more or less fed with coppers and silvers filched from unwary passerby.. only she remembers a caravan guard cutting his hand off when he got caught trying his luck, and the wound festering, and Tomas...
"Kill it." Tomas' voice comes as a whisper, but it reverberates around the room and is answered by approving murmurs. Tomas kneels and places his neck on the wood, still staring at Amaia. "Kill that filthy beast." She tries to recoil from the venom in his voice, but one of the guards is holding her fast by the back of the neck. The executioner steps up, raises his axe, and brings it down with finality. Tomas' head goes flying, but there is no blood. The crowd cheers, and they crowd in around the scene of the execution, blocking it from view. Another firm shove from behind forces her to move despite her confusion and the fear gripping her throat. "KEEP MOVING, SWINE!" The Witch Hunter mistress gives her another shove. The woman is longer the enigmatic leader of the order, she is morphed into Izar, Amaia's one-time teacher and mentor, but somehow they are one and the same.
As she faces forward and scrambles to her feet, Amaia sees where all the blood missing from Tomas' execution went. It covers the block of wood, puddles of crimson surround it, and some drops shine bright from the throne itself. She lets out a strangled cry and tries to move back, but she is pushed forward by some unseen force, inexorably inching toward the bloody block that she knows is meant for her.
Marcus looks at Alexander and Baldrik, quickly and with great concern in his eyes. "One of you, do something. Now. I will watch your back."
Alexander got upfrom the table and mentioned Marcus to do the same. "I have a plan." He said, and made his way forwards through the crowd with quick steps untill he reached the headsman's block. At this point he tried catching Amaia's eye to reassure her, but failed to given her struggle with the guards. Instead he cleared his throat and turned towards the crowd.
"Salutem, iudices Liveriam (Greetings, gentles of Liveria), noble members of the Liverian Witch Hunters. I am Templar Alexander Reuman from Rheinfeld, representing Rheinfeld as envoy of my holy order." He said and pointed at Amaia in her orc form. "This beast has been captured by my party after a tough battle in which one of my companions was severely injured. The Liverian Witch Hunters that were nearby came to our aid, for which I am ... immensely grateful, I am indebted to their kindness. Yet fact remains that this is my prisoner, and that this creature is to be brought before Father Johan, and not executed here."
Feeling as if he had just been tossed into another Pocket Dimension, Baldrik stared around in awe at what was going on. He didn't have a scaley arm, he didn't hear his ancestors speak to him... He felt normal. Like a Civilian- and not a Soldier trained to fight beyond his normal capabilities. But, he knew that illusion was bound to break when he spotted Marcus and Alexander- along with Amaia. He couldn't just sit there and watch her get pulled to the Death Block... And Alexander was at that point already standing up and talking against this course of action. But he felt he needed to take major reprecussions. He was not a man who could speak to everyone, he was very biased and knew little about the act of being a Politician. Marcus had to hold out. He leaned over and quickly whispered to Marcus, trying to make sure none else was able to hear-
"Listen... She appears to be the same as when we met her, but it seems as if we're in... 'Liveria'. We have to try and take this cautiously. Worst case scenario, look for a weapon- like a spear, and hand it to me- or does this place offer the Trial by Combat?"
As Alexander makes his great proclamations, Marcus glances around the room for weapons. It seemed that there were several guards carrying swords and axes. All of them on alert. He shakes his head as he stands up, and speaks his own piece. "I know not whether this one speaks truth or not, but, I would like to know the sentence this woman is being put under, and why. I admit being unfamiliar with due process in this court." He looks a little sympathetically at Amaia, though, it seemed tinged with a bit of irritation.
As if they'd been waiting for a cue that Marcus provided, the spear-wielding guards to Amaia's sides slam the butts of their weapons into the tiled floor in perfect synchronization, and for the moment the force pushing her forward halts and lets her stand still. The sound echoes like thunderclaps throughout the room and the nobles fall quiet. At multiple places around the room more dirty and ragged children begin to appear with wooden blocks and headsmen, and each mouth silent words of hate toward the chained beast before kneeling to be beheaded and add their blood to the slowly growing pool in front of the throne. None of the nobles pay any attention to these scenes of death, for as the slamming spears halt they are all facing the raised dais that holds the throne.
A figure steps out from the darkness behind the throne, wearing a heavy cloak that conceals all as they walk forward; it is black with blue trim, the same as the cloak worn by the woman who was now standing behind Amaia and watching with the others. The first thing to emerge from the unnatural darkness is a hand, holding a roll of parchment. Another hand reaches out to open the scroll and it becomes obvious that they are the hands of a woman, and the arms are covered in studded leather armor. As the scroll opens the cloak opens with it, revealing a slim body similarly armored, with daggers, a shortsword, and a crossbow hanging from her belt. Finally, as cloak ends up held open as if by invisible servitors to either side, the woman clears her throat and the hood falls back to reveal Amaia's face, lips curled down in a disgust that Marcus, Baldrik, and Alexander may have seen directed at themselves from afar. This look, however, is directed at the Amaia in chains, the Amaia that looks like an orc and speaks like a beast.
"This foul creature was captured by the Witch Hunters," the sneering Amaia directs an irritated look in Alexander's direction before continuing, "in the ruins of the village of Turia. The villagers were slaughtered and their bodies mutilated, and this thing was the only one of its kind that was found. We all know what kind of monsters these beasts are, so there is no doubt it was responsible for this atrocity. It is charged with murder of men women and children, rape of women and children, desecration of corpses by fornication and consumption, theft, and destruction of property." She lets go of the scroll and it fades into nothingness before striking the ground. The gathered men and women in the room shout for justice, and the woman on the dais raises a hand for silence. "In the name of the King, it has been sentenced to death!" The cloaked Amaia directs a gloating grin at the chained Amaia, clearly looking forward to the execution.
She tries to proclaim her innocence, but all that comes out is another bestial roar. As the cheers of the nobility fill the room in response to the sentence, the Witch Hunter shoves Amaia forward once more, causing her to stumble a few steps closer to the chopping block, but all she cannot tear her eyes away from the sight of own face filled with hate and bloodlust. She tries to back away from that malevolent stare but she is forced foward again, not being allowed to retreat a single inch.
Feeling the heat turning up ever so quickly, Baldrik decided he had to intervene- and make some of his experience used properly. He quickly stood upwards- swiftly so, and spoke up: "I must however, add my own personal knowledge. Orcs, as violent as they are- are always associated with a Clan. They arn't known to attack Villages on their own, let alone slaughter them left and right. Besides, what happened of the Guard in the Village? I believe that we are lacking any form of a solid evidence- aside from the Racial one, that this Orc is responsible for all the harm alone. In the Military, we'd never court martial someone if there wasn't an overwhelming amount of evidence, and not just simply based upon what they are -known- to do. And to proclaim doing an injustice sentencing in the name of the King, is a disgrace to his name, miss." Staring down at Amaia, he stood proud, his face remaining as stable as a Soldier's face. "I'd request there to be a proper investigation launched. If what the Orc's accused of is true, then the sentencing's just. But, denying my request of investigation would bring dishonor upon the accuser's name for not standing up when questioned. After all, if we do not try to question those who execute people every now and again, then what would stop them from executing your wifes, your husbands, your fellow man, if everyone simply remains silent? If you're so certain of the Orc's crime, then you'd perhaps offer the people this proof."
Marcus nods and, rather than adding his own cheers to the chorus, steps forward and slams his fist into the orc's cheek, with enough force to send one of her teeth to the floor and causing her to stumble. The nobles quiet for a moment, surprised as Marcus shakes out his fist. "Dirty, disgusting thing." He glares at the orc for a moment before looking up toward the witch hunter, Amaia. "You present a solid case for this sordid creature, this abomination of nature. I remember, the village I grew up in was burned to the ground by an Abomination once. I survived only because the building I was in collapsed on me. If anyone in this room feels the pain as a victim and the hatred of these creatures, than it must be I. So I request to be the one to cut off her head... Slowly, so that the dead might cherish her screams." He then looks back to Baldrik, to address him next as he looks knowingly at Alexander. "There is no need for an investigation, it has already been conducted by those who know better."
Baldrik sighed deeply, and nodded once to Marcus. He knew where he was going with this, but he still felt that the people where too undisciplined, too untaught to understand the greater nature of the things going on. Only able to look as Marcus as he lectured him, he slowly sat back down- still feeling a sense of betrayal coming out from Marcus. Although he should've known better, Baldrik still had a thought... What if Marcus is actually going to kill the 'Orc Amaia'? This wasn't right. The Creat- Amaia, was looking so scared, and Baldrik could barely lift a finger to help. If he had his rifle and bayonet, he'd have been half-way leaving the room, before shooting at the 'Witch-Hunters' Leader. He couldn't help in the end to just give the Orc a bit of a sad glance- he saw a scared animal. Sure, many would consider the word 'Animal' a bad thing, but Baldrik didn't. Most Animals, if trained right, could be a better companion than any human, although they lack the intellect. And now, just because there was a language barrier, he couldn't try to save Orc-Amaia.
That's, atleast, when he quietly leaned forward, and began to medidate. There had to be a second solution to this ordeal, something he had overlooked. He sighed, closed his eyes, and began to clear his mind of the worriedful thoughts. That, or it was his way of comforting himself, as his religious belief was, well- smashed by his apparent Goddess.
Alexander wasabout to defend his bluff when Baldrik and Marcus each in their turns stepped forwards to help free Orc-Amaia. The other Amaia, whose existence confused him greatly, seemed hellbent on having Orc-Amaia executed. The many children entering the hall and having themselves executed made no sense either. Nevertheless he still managed a disdainful sneer.
"And who do you think had fought off the rest of these orcs? We have bled for this quarry and now you intend to deny my people their efforts? You shall hear of this." Alexander said, looking for a weapon nearby, but finding none safe for those held by the guards.
Amaia stumbles back and onto one knee at the force of the blow to her face, and for a while she simply stared up at Marcus as he spoke, blood trickling out of her mouth as she tries to figure out what the hell is going on. Marcus had no cause to care for her life, but was he truly callous enough to kill her? Or did he not see the truth beneath her orcish appearance as she saw through his nobleman's guise? Was he going to kill her thinking she was in fact the monster she appeared to be? She feels hot tears leak from her eyes, but she growls and shakes her head, willing them away to no effect. Fuck this, fuck Marcus, fuck it all. I'm not gonna die without a fight. As Alexander falls quiet, Amaia makes her move in hopes that the guards now holding her chains were distracted. She sucks in a quick breath through her nose and pushes herself up off the floor with strength of legs alone, then hawks a huge gob of bloody phlegm at Marcus' face as she rushes him with a fist ready to get some revenge for his punch. The spit is followed with a wordless roar, not a garbling of attempted words but a more bestial expression of her anger than she could have managed with her own voice.
The roar is suddenly choked off as an iron collar appears around her neck, attached to a chain that is pulled back hard, causing her punch to swing a few inches wide of connecting with Marcus' face. Amaia is pulled all the way onto her back to see that the Witch Hunter, face shifting rapidly between that of Izar and the leader of the hunters, holds the new chain and is smiling smugly down at her. "We know your mind, you disgusting beast. Stay put." The elderly woman directs a slight nod and a more friendly smile to Marcus, apparently pleased by his actions and words.
Up on the dais, the Amaia in Witch Hunter garb looks on with clear amusement. She responds to Alexander first, looking to two of the armed guards standing nearby and flicking a dismissive hand in his direction. "The fool wants attention. Take him to the dungeons, and see to it that he learns his place." The two armored men nod and approach Alexander, hands on sword hilts but blades left undrawn for the moment. She then looks to Marcus and taps her chin with a finger, then nods. "We have a true patriot in our midst. It was meant to be beheaded quickly, but your story moves me. Slowly then." She pulls a dagger from her belt and launches it with a flick of her wrist, burying the blade halfway into the wooden block sitting in a pool of blood. The woman gestures for the chain holders to continue pulling their captive forward, and they do so, no longer letting the orc Amaia get to her feet to walk.
As the dragging begins, the procession of ragged children appearing and dying throughout the room stops entirely. Two wooden structures appear to either side of the throne, platforms standing ten feet tall but only a few feet wide. On the left stands a woman, on the right a man, and each has a rope tied around their neck and attached to a beam above their heads. They are unbound and unattended on their small gallows, though both stare down at the chained creature with utmost disgust. The same look is reflected upon the Witch Hunter Amaia's face as she also watches the beast. There is an unmistakable similarity in their faces, and all who look upon them know with immediate clarity that these are Amaia's mother and father. They simply stand on the gallows with nooses ready, looking on with hatred clear upon their faces.
"Please, everyone. Can we at the very least consider reason? Do you honestly believe that this Orc would be capable of slaughtering a village on his or her own? What are the odds that witches actually did it, and now they've used one of the villagers to try and escape with it scott free?! There are witches capable of turning people into frogs or dogs! Why not Orcs? This person clearly only defended his or her self after the man punched him or her! Before that, they only tried to pull back from being slaughtered like a dog for a careless cause!" Baldrik prostested, feeling himself getting backed further and further into a corner. He had to stop this, he simply had to! If they don't listen to reasoning, then they should taste his fists! He raised himself upwards in a casual way as he saw one the Guards approach Alexander, intent on atleast not losing another friend to these 'Liveria' bastards. He felt his pride and dignity put on the line, and began to bark back at the Amaia wanted the Orc-Amaia killed.
"I demand that this person atleast be seen to by a Priest! Perhaps this is a curse, and the all-mighty god has to purify them off this curse! What would he do with your soul if you killed an innocent right here and now, oh so great leader of the Witch Hunters?! The Mother would turn her gaze away from you, and the all-mighty father would make sure you were no longer his daughter, but just as filthy as the Orc you claim has wronged the village! And I am not defending this person simply because this is an Orc, I am defending this person due to the lack of justice being taken place! Atleast kill him or her standing if you're going to wrong the gods, and give the person inside the Orc a Warrior's Death!"
Alexander raised his chin in challenge to the woman but at the sight of the armoured guards he sighed. Unarmed, he could only cause a scene before he was defeated. Perhaps he could surprise them in a hallway but even that would be risky. He stepped out in front of the guards and did not even grant them a glance as he paraded out of the hall, the guards hobbling after him.
Marcus glances back toward Baldrik and shakes his head, forcing a chuckle to come out. Though it sounded fake, the immense irritation that followed in the tone of his voice did not. "You are an idiot to cite Rheinfelder Gods in a Liverian court." He walks up to the execution block, and pulls the dagger out of it. Glancing over it, he seemed to admire the construction, completely ignoring the orc being pulled up to the block. Looking down at the wooden block, he raises an eyebrow. "Must I work with something so small? I am used to larger weapons... Though, I suppose, this grants me the precision to work around the veins. Make it scream longer. Still, must I use this and not a weapon I am more familiar with? I am certain my family watches me, even now. A one handed blade like my father used to use would make him proud, I think."
A flash of rage crosses the human Amaia's face at the continued interruption from Baldrik. She says nothing until after Marcus speaks, nodding in agreement with something he'd said. "An idiot, yes. He must be a friend of the Templar to name such gods. Let them remain united in the dungeons." The woman waves her hands at some of the nearby guards, and three approach Baldrik in the same manner as they had approached Alexander: hands on sword hilts with no steel yet bared. This left only one guard standing near the throne dais, not counting the two dragging the orc closer, but the Amaia standing atop it did not seem worried by the lack of protection.
As Alexander approaches the entryway of the throne room, what had appeared to be a luxuriously furnished hall beyond shimmers and fades into darkness. It writhes with lighter patches of black, but there is no telling what the cause of those amorphous moving shapes are. The closer he gets, the more he notices a coldness settling into his bones, the deep chill of winter somehow existing in the middle of a castle. None of the noble guests nor guards seem to notice this strangeness, and the pair walking behind Alexander continue walking as if nothing is amiss.
Now looking to Marcus, the witch hunter Amaia drums her fingers along the hilt of her shortsword. "This creature has earned the slow death of the knife, but honoring one's ancestors is commendable." As she considers the request, Amaia's mother and father up on their small gallows step forward to the edge and stare down at the orcish form of the real Amaia while hissing exhortations at nobody in particular, speaking in unison in quiet voices that nonetheless carry around the entire room. "Kill the abomination. Burn it, cut it, tear its flesh from its bones. Kill the beast. Make it slow, make it painful, make it suffer. Kill it, kill it, kill it NOW!" On the shouted word, both man and woman leap forward from their perches and fall to dangle from their nooses with bodies twitching. Flocks of crows appear arround them and begin tearing at their flesh, though no blood is shed from their bodies; instead sprays of crimson materialize above the execution block and spatter the floor, the throne, the nobles, and the human Amaia with gore while passing through Marcus as if he does not exist. The orc Amaia howls with what might be rage or grief or perhaps both and lashes out furiously, but she is only able to make one of the guards stumble before she is clubbed into submission with spear butts.
Heedless of the sudden spray of blood coating her, the woman on the dais nods again. "May it bring your family pride and joy." She reaches out to the side with her free hand and pulls a blade from a battered leather scabbard that appears in midair, then flips the longsword around to catch it nimbly by the tip and tosses it hilt first to Marcus.
Marcus grabs the handle of the longsword and nods with approval, as he looks over the length of the blade. The blood that sprayed all over the area didn't even make him so much as flinch, and from the look in his eyes, he had seen worse things. "Such is the way of things." He takes a couple of practice swings with it, both to test the weapon, and to test the strength of his own body. He seemed reasonably strong, not quite as strong as he was before, but more than strong enough to do what he planned on doing. "Bring this cretin to the block, and I will make its cries into a symphony."
He looks around the room, measuring up the crowd and the remaining guards. In his head he devised a hundred strategies, though all looked rather grim for him. With a sigh, he simply waits, impatiently, for Amaia to be brought to the block. He kept both the longsword and the dagger, as he was ready to use both for what he planned to do.
Baldrik sighed deeply. He prepared himself for combat, when it dawned on him that the only guards that'd be in the room if he left peacefully... Internal calculations... Would be one. Marcus would have a fair shot at saving her if he left the room without putting up a fight. Who knows, maybe on the way to the dungeons he'd find a proper weapon. Baldrik knew that he'd be heavily wounded fighting three at once, but he was willing to make that sacrifice if it ment they'd get the Orc-Amaia out. Letting out a deep sigh, he stood up and decided to accept his new position. He interrupted one last time before he went along with the guards to the Dungeon: "Unless you want to be judged by the gods in your afterlife, I'd suggest you would start repenting what you've been doing."
Alexander frowned at the coldness, and the general feeling of unease increased with every step. The closer he got to the entry of the great hall, the more intimidating the endless and moving darkness in front of him became. He eventually stopped walking and eyed both guards. "I sense a strong magic at work here." He said to both guards.
Baldrik arrives with his tail of three guards in time to hear Alexander's declaration, and he can also see the shifting darkness and feel the cold emanating from it as he gets closer. One of the pair of guards that had come with Alexander simply grunts and shoves him forward, toward the unsettling blackness that had taken the place of the hallway. Even up close the guards have no visible facial features inside their helmets, just dark nothingness, and they show no signs of caring about the strangeness of the hall or Alexander's claim of feeling magic at work. The guards simply continue moving forward, trying to herd both men into the unknown, each with one hand still on the hilts of their undrawn swords.
The guards and witch hunter dragging Amaia to the executioner's block finally get her there, and they muscle her up into position, on her knees in the large pool of blood around the block and her upper body pressed to the bloodied wood itself. She has been mostly despondent since seeing her parents damn her and jump to their deaths, and they don't have much trouble with her. As soon as she is in place, however, another vision of her past appears before her: a woman with hair the color of honey, dark brown eyes, and a pale, heart-shaped face. She is quite pretty, and her beauty does not seem to fit the snarling hatred on her face. The woman kneels a few feet in front of the orcish Amaia, directly between her and the witch hunter Amaia up on the dais. The real Amaia starts to struggle against her chains once more, and a series of low growls escape her throat, her harshly whispered words coming out as inhuman sounds. Fuck, please, no, anything but this.
Alexander, Baldrik, and Marcus are all struck with an immediate awareness of who this woman is to Amaia: Giselle, a woman she had loved and still cared for, and the witch who had turned her from the path of the witch hunters. The robed woman speaks to the orc Amaia with far more clarity than the other shades of her past have done, though again with a cruel whisper that somehow carries to be heard all throughout the room. "How I could I ever love a monster like you? You abandoned me, Amaia. You didn't come looking for me, you didn't take me with you, you just ran away and left me to the other witch hunters. You disgust me." Giselle lifts her hand and a dagger appears in it. She swiftly plunges the blade into her own stomach, then pulls it out and stabs again, and again, and again. Each time the blade is freed an unnaturally large spray of crimson jets from the wound, coating the chain holders and the orcish Amaia in hot red blood. The witch hunter Amaia on the dais is aware of this suicidal apparition, and she watches and laughs as the witch stabs herself to death. Giselle's stabbing finally slows after she has inflicted more than a dozen wounds and she slumps over, eyes lifeless. Unlike the other visions of death, this one remains after the deed is done, a corpse laying in the pool of blood created by herself, Amaia's parents, and the parade of orphan children who had been executed throughout the room.
The real Amaia stares in horror as this happens, tears leaking from her eyes. As Giselle's corpse flops into the blood she lets out a wordless howl of pain and rage. She tries to push herself up from the wooden block, but the guards tug the chains connected to her wrists and pull her arms out to her sides, dropping her back on her chest on the block. Amaia's yelling is clipped into briefer sounds, almost like barking, as she again fails to form true words. Fuck this, fuck everything, if I'm a real monster then I should be strong enough to kill every last one of you cunts! She grabs hold of the chain attached to her right wrist and uses all the leverage she can muster to pull it. This causes the surprised guard to fall to his knees and drop his spear to catch hold of the chain with his other hand, while the guard on the left chain sent stumbling back a couple steps as the counter-balancing pull from the fallen guard is momentarily lost. The witch hunter holding the neck chain is able to rush forward and plant a boot on the captive's back to keep her bent forward and in an unfavorable position, and Amaia is unable to do much more as the guards start to regain their control.
From atop the dais the human Amaia yells a command to Marcus: "Do it now, don't let it break free!" The one guard who had remained in the execution area starts forward, sword still sheathed, apparently intent on helping to wrestle the orc back onto the block for execution.
As Giselle commits suicide dramatically, Marcus' eyes start moving between the guards. He looks to the witch hunter. One. Next, the guard on the left, who held his own. Two. Then the guard on the right, who only had a spear to stop an orc. Three, Amaia. Next, the approaching guard. Four. Last, but not least, the fake Amaia. Five.
Finally, the false Amaia yelled at him to execute her quickly. So, he steps beside the orc Amaia, standing to her right. He raises both the dagger-wielding hand and his blade-wielding hand, as though about to stab her twice, then speaks. "Remember this, for I am about to kill monsters."
He throws the dagger toward the left chain-holding guard's throat, and as the dagger is midway through its flight, he swings his blade down toward the witch hunter, hoping to simply cleave through her chest with brute force and allowing her to die from shock immediately after. Assuming that went to plan, he would turn to face the approaching guard or witch hunter Amaia--whoever was closer by the time he was done. A three versus two was a manageable affair with an orc, even a wounded orc, though it was likely one of them would be badly injured, if not outright killed before victory would be claimed.
He realized now that if he got carried away any further into that darkness, he'd most likely lose his very existance. He looked at the guards that were attempting to push Alexander forward... This was his time to strike. Baldrik nodded calmly to the guards leading him, walking quicker towards the darkness to get further away from the guards behind him, until he was a few feet away from the guards overlooking Alexander. Suddenly, Baldrik rushed forward, and turned his waist over to the right, cocking back his right arm before sending forth his fist directly towards the back of the Guard's head to the left of Alexander as he began to spin his waist to the left, in an effort to daze him using the momentum of the attack and force put behind it.
He yelled out for Alexander as he swung at the guard "Angriff der andere Wache! (Attack the other Guard!)" in an effort to make some form of a coordinated strike. If Alexander got the other guard, the rest could be dispatched, Baldrik could get a sword... A Two-Versus-Three. It just had to work- because the fact Baldrik could feel the magic in the darkness sent a cold shiver down his spine. Fear was manifesting within, and he was not going to go down into that darkness quietly. If the strike had succeeded, he'd immediately rush to where the Guard's blade was being kept, and would try to quickly pull it out of it's sheathe for personal usage in a defensive stance, awaiting a strike from one of the guards behind him.
Alexander turned around to speak to the guards escorting him oncemore about the darkness they seemed to be unable to even notice. In the front of the hall he could see a melee breaking and Alexander was about to act, but Baldrik beat him to it. With a punch to the back of guard's helmeted he atleast distracted the man. Doing so he yelled Alexander to take action in Rheinfeldian, but he had already made his move. It surprised him that young Baldrik knew Rheinfeldian, but he did not have time to stop and think about it. There was work to be done.
As his own guard turned around to face the new threat Alexander robbed him of his dagger and plunged it into both of the man's eyesockets, or at least, so he thought he was. The man's unsettling shadowed face seemed to lack any sort of structure. As the spasming body sank to the floor he launched himself at the other guards. With but a dagger his only chance was surprise and getting inside the range of their swords where he could make short work of them.
Amaia's orcish form visibly tenses as Marcus speaks, and all those around her are taken by surprise when he attacks. The dagger flies true and sinks into the soft flesh of the left guard's neck, causing him to drop the chain and reel back clutching at the blade, and he stumbles back into the crowd of shocked noblemen and disappears from sight all whilst voicing no cry of pain. The witch hunter has only a split second to pull back as sees Marcus throwing the dagger, but it is not enough to avoid the blade. The steel rips through her from shoulder to navel in a diagonal slash, and she falls clutching at the wound and screaming. As panic takes hold of the crowd, the witch hunter Amaia up on the dais shouts another command: "Kill them both! Kill the scum!" As Marcus turns to face the oncoming threats he sees the woman pulling the small crossbow from her belt and hurrying to load it, but he can do nothing about it as the guard with sword and shield gets into range and makes a hasty stab toward his gut with shield held high in defense.
Once she hears the cries of pain and realizes what is happening, the real Amaia hastily pushes herself up to her feet. The remaining chain holder on the right had recovered his spear in the commotion and stabs at her chest as she turns to face him. As the blade pierces flesh and scrapes along a rib, Amaia lets out another wordless roar and grabs the shaft of the weapon. She rips it out of his hand with ease, for the guard had kept one hand on the chain rather than putting proper force behind his thrust with two hands. Amaia doesn't bother turning the weapon around, she simply jams the wooden end into the shadows of the helmet, finding contact with something in there, and smashes it over and over. After a few thrusts the wood splinters and breaks, but she does not stop until the guard falls to the ground with blood leaking from the darkness where his face should be, silent to the end as the other guard had been. As he drops, Amaia feels something slam into her left shoulder and looks to find a crossbow bolt dressed with black feathers jutting from her flesh. She looks around for the source and finds herself, or at least the thing wearing her face, hurriedly working to reload the crossbow. The orc Amaia roars again and runs at her, splashing blood all over her already coated legs with each step through the crimson pool, ignoring Marcus and his opponent in favor of the Amaia on the dais.
At the far end of the hall, Baldrik, Alexander, and their guards hear shouts from the direction of the throne just before Baldrik strikes. The guard he aims for spins round just as he is winding up for his hefty punch, and as he swings the unexpected angle causes Baldrik's fist to slide off the side of the helmet and right into the darkness inside. He feels something hard and unnaturally shaped inside when he connects, but nonetheless he is rewarded with a snapping sound and the guard dropping in a limp heap. He is able to scramble to retrieve the guard's sword and turn in time to see the other three rushing toward him with their own swords and shields ready.
Alexander's attack takes the other guard by surprise as he had been turning first to look for the source of the shouts, then toward Baldrik. He is able to pull the dagger from the guard's belt and plunge it into the shadowed space where a face should be, and the blade goes in a few inches farther than it should have if there was a normal human face in there, but it connects with something and pierces it. The guard drops without making a sound, leaving Alexander's newly acquired dagger with the first inch of the blade covered in what appears to be normal blood. His quick dash toward the approaching three guards was clearly not something they expected, and two of them slow down and hold their shields high enough to block most of the the space where their faces should be. The third, the one on the left as Alexander approaches, is quicker on his feet and rushes him with his shield, bashing him and sending him stumbling back to fall on his ass a few paces away. This guard follows this up hurrying forward and aiming an overhead slash at his downed opponent, and the other two hurry forward toward Baldrik in the apparent assumption that Alexander was taken care of.
Experience told him that the adrenaline meant that he wouldn't feel his sore ribs until after the fight. The guard that had knocked him on the floor was now coming for him with a follow-up attack however, and there was no time to spare on such thoughts.
He got a knee under him and then another and rushed forwards into his attacker. He tried to catch the guard's swordarm's wrist with his own forearm so he could use the same armlock on him as he had used against Kalemn, by wrapping his own arm over the wrist and locking the guard's elbow. Doing so might force open the guard's defence as well if he executed his counter decisively enough, ready to settle things with the dagger. Provided that he would not have his arm gashed instead.
Pure terror filled Baldrik's senses when he believed he had failed his attack, and doomed himself... Until he realized that the Guard still dropped. Quickly getting back to his senses, Baldrik equipped himself with the sword, facing his opponents in a proper stance as he straightened his back. Holding a sword properly in his hand, he felt courage return to him... A lust to kill starting to overwhelm his normal senses as his fear turned into anger. He gazed down at his right hand, only now realizing that he had actually caused it to bleed due to the amount of force he had put behind it. He quickly saw how Alexander was overwhelmed, and knowing that the other two wouldn't just stand idly by, Baldrik took a defensive stance. He wasn't going to necessarily block their attacks outright, but he had to ensure he could open up a weakspot in their attacks. After all, when you attack in one direction, you make another end more targetable.
Attempting to predict his left opponent's next move, an downwards-attack, Baldrik quickly dashed to the left of the charging duo, in order to limit the right man's ability to strike at him. Baldrik pulled his arm backward as the man charged forward- just roughly ten feet away from him- where Baldrik began to cock his arm backwards. He quickly pulled his sword downward as the man was closing in the distance, letting out a war cry as the sword quickly descended towards the man's head "Dö för dina synder, din äckliga hundjävel (Die for your sins, you disgusting dog-fuck)!"- just to pull the sword away from the man when it was just a few inches away from him and the Guard's (hopefully) attempt at blocking the attack: pulling off a feign attack. Baldrik then brought the sword downwards- and tried to strike an attack traveling from the bottom right of the man's side, and travel upwards in a 45 degree angle, hopefully to cut through his center of mass.
So there it was. As Amaia was stabbed with a spear and hit with a crossbow bolt, Marcus watches the oncoming threat of the guard. "Foolish." He mutters under his breath as he steps aside, taking advantage of the fact that the high guard would obstruct the guard's vision until he had already completed his side step. With his sword he swing for the guard's hand, and if he made impact, he would follow it up with a single, hard punch to the guard's face to knock him down and take him out of the fight. He had to be quick, if Amaia failed, he would have to close the gap to the last remaining witch hunter before she could reload her crossbow once more.
Fearsome though they appear, the shadow-faced guards are clearly not as skilled in combat as their varied opponents. The guard that had aimed a finishing blow at Alexander is caught off guard by the man's counter, and within moments he goes from the brink of victory to finding his sword arm trapped in his foes grasp. He struggles and tries to slam the rim of his shield into Alexander's arm to free his own, but his efforts are ineffective and he is left at the mercy of his opponent for the time being.
The pair of guards rushing at Baldrik fare only a little better. The predicted downward slash does not come from the nearer guard as Baldrik dashes to the side, but the straight thrust that comes in its place is avoided all the same. The feint successfully draws the left guard's shield up and leaves him open to the true attack to follow. Unfortunately, though the blade does make it through the plate armor, it is only a shallow wound that does not incapacitate the guard. Both of them turn to face Baldrik, approaching slowly this time rather than rushing like fools to give him another easy opening. One circles left and the other right, clearly aiming to get him between them to attack his unprotected back.
Marcus dispatches his last armored opponent with ease. His sword strikes its target, the guard drops his shield away from his face, and Marcus' fist finds the gap. Just as with the other two men who had punched guards in their shadowed helms where faces ought to be, his fists travels further than it should and connects with something hard and not shaped like a face at all. He hears a snap and the guard drops like a puppet with its strings cut. By the time he starts toward the dais, the real Amaia is already closing on the fake.
With the power of her orcish legs, Amaia is able to close the distance much faster than she thought was possible. She sees the fake working to reload the crossbow, and as she nears the dais she grips the chain hanging from the manacle on her right wrist and starts swinging it in a circle over her head. Just as the witch hunter Amaia lifts her crossbow to fire, the chain swings in and clouts her in the face, sending her staggering back with a bloodied face and the hastily fired bolt up into the air over her attacker's head. The human Amaia gropes for her shortsword, but the chain comes around again with less force but still enough to stagger her again. Before the blade leaves its sheath, the orc Amaia is on her, still roaring wordlessly, and punches her in the face. The fake Amaia's nose breaks with the impact, and more blood goes flying as she stumbles back and falls, cracking the back of her head on the seat of the throne. The real Amaia does not relent: she rushes the downed woman wearing her true face and starts pummeling her mercilessly, heavy fists raining down onto the prone and unconscious woman with all the fury and barbarity expected of a monster.
The man struggled to escape his grip and tried hitting him with the shield to no avail. It did mean that Alexander was unable to properly finish off his opponent though, given that he was fully armoured and that the shield blocked his free daggerarm. He lashed out with his foot so it was behind the guard's support leg and tried pushing him onto the ground, keeping the arm locked at the elbow which would either break it at the elbow, dislocate the shoulder or hurt a lot and keep it locked. He pressed down with one knee on the afflicted shoulder to pressure the joint even more and then lashed out at the guard's formless shadowed face with the dagger as he had done before.
Baldrik began to back up, noticing their new tactic unfold. He was rapidly closing himself in against a wall as he shot new glances left and right- clearly trying to come up with a new strategy. If he tried to rush in the gap they were created, he had to get extremely lucky to avoid the thrusts of their weapons- which were without a doubt near impossible- and then he'd leave Alexander vulnerable to them. He couldn't let his fellow Fighter succumb to death in such a pathetic manner, so he decided he had to rely on him to get him out of the situation. Deciding on playing on the defensive, Baldrik lunged forward only a few inches, trying to get them to back up as he felt the wall approach him onto his back. Shit, shit. Shit. He sighed, and thought back on his training.
Don't think anymore! Just do!
... That reinvogorated Baldrik mentally, and caused him to steel his nerves for what was to come. He had succesfully grazed one of them... But he had to aim for stabs. The armor was clearly too thick to be penetrated with a regular slash. Feeling the wall behind his back now, Baldrik knew that his options were limited. He hollared out for Alexander- this time in the common tongue "Finish up your guy and hurry! They're gaining on me... And you know I'm talking to you, guards! If you have loved ones that cares for you, I suggest you turn away and go to their homes, because you will not taste victory or air if you stay! The ones in the Execution Block are without a doubt dead by now, or screaming for their loved ones. Do not end like them, and turn away now!"
Marcus steps forward and grabs the Orc Amaia's shoulder. Though he didn't have the strength to pull her back, he did have enough to get her attention. "STOP! You have won. Do not become the monsters that they are." He looks upon the bloodied, beaten corpse, and grimaces. He spits on it, then walks over to the last remaining witch hunter. He slams his blade into her skull and easily cuts through it with a mixture of force and the blade's sharpness, ending her life quickly and mercifully, though leaving quite a mess behind. Finally, he turns to face the Orcish Amaia, and raises the blade: It was coated in blood. "This is all which you will reap when your version of justice is based on race, witch hunter." He tosses the blade aside, walks back up beside her. "There are many things to hate in this world. I hope you have learned of at least one thing not to hate... You are young, do not late it take over your mind, lest it consume you, like it has me."
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All The Broken Toys
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The first sensation everyone would experience is a sensation of colours, mostly shades of purple and blue. Blurry, and incoherent, and followed rapidly by whispers. Somehow, all of them, in each their own way, could tell that they were no longer within their own minds. They had been taken somewhere.
There was a strange scent in the air. Hints of smoke, and ash. While James and Sisera slowly recover to their feet, Kasienka would find herself awakening with little trouble at all. The three were militia, it seemed, with pale skin that implied little in the way of actual time spent training in the sun. They were armed with short swords and bucklers, and hardened leather with a chainmail vest. Somehow, they were able to recognize each other, in spite of such foreign appearances.
As James slowly and finally gets to his feet, he looks around. They were in a town, and it was burning: Fire raged everywhere. He raises his hand to cast a spell, and nothing happens. It seemed they had no magic here. He grits his teeth, and grips his blade tightly. "Great. I'm one of the useless morons." He mutters under his breath as he looks to the other two. "Ah, the hypocrite, and the cripple. Wonderful. So much for reliable."
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Meanwhile, slowly but surely, Tahlia would find herself stirring and waking up in what appeared to be a small library. Outside the red flickers through the windows were unmistakeably those of fire. There was a small amount of smoke within the structure, permeating the area, though it would surely start to fill with more and more smoke quickly given the sheer heat she could feel radiating through the structure, which luckily appeared made mostly out of stone.
Crack.
Behind her, she could hear the animalistic growl of Faolan. Though upon looking at him, she would find that he was ripping into what was already a corpse, blood rolling down his fangs. He hadn't seemed to have noticed her yet, but, any movement on her part, and he most surely would.
She could feel the world churn around her, and when she rose to her feet she could feel her stomach plummet to her toes. This wasn't right. This seemed oddly familiar. Kasienka had no way to place the event. She didn't have her journal, and so she was left with a piecemeal memory that wouldn't serve her whatsoever in this circumstance. The elf started to slowly wander towards what she hoped would be the town center, where there would be a well. Before she could get too far she was interrupted by James. He didn't look like James, but his tone was unmistakable.
"We're here for a reason, and we are all on equal footing. Sisera is as ablebodied as you and me, so there is no reason to call him names."
She started to fiddle with the chainmail at her hip before turning to look at Sisera, not bothering to address James's insult towards herself. "Given that I cannot tell if you have magic, I assume none of us do. I think we should head towards what would be the center of town. There may be a well there. It won't let us do much, but it's more than what we are currently doing."
This wasn't a dream, some trick of his mind. It all felt too...structured for lack of a better description. Everything normally felt fragmented and distant but Sisera felt at ease, calm and collected. These were not the symptoms of a man trapped in his own delusions. No. Sisera was indeed himself. This was the trick of another's mind. Illusion magic it seemed, and dangerously potent. Still, things didn't seem all bad; the short sword in his hand felt familiar with the rough leather wrappings of the grip giving him a hint of nostalgia for his training days as a boy. The buckler was seemed to small for Sisera, it barely covered his massive body. Except... he wasn't in his body. He patted down his body and behind the chainmail was someone who was smaller and much slimmer than Sisera. Though he could still tell the explosive power of his own muscles were still there. Sisera frowned and bit his lip nervously; if this truly was the work of an Illusionist, they were masters of their craft in the highest form.
He looked at his two companions and despite their different appearances recognized them mentally. Once again he had to hand it to whoever had placed them under this spell. The complexities behind such magic was something something Sisera could understand, but with difficulty. Assuming it was Illusion magic in the first place. Sisera twitched his fingers from his shield hand but no smoke appeared. Sisera made a small smile. So certain things weren't going to be allowed? Fine with him, that is what the sword training had been for all those decades ago.
Sisera stared at James for a moment before simply shrugging at his insult. After a lifetime of sneers from others, another one was just a drop in the bucket. He turns to Kasienka and nods in agreement.
"I have a feeling this is some kind of memory we're going to have to live through" He said, sniffing the familiar aroma of smoke. It was a cruel joke that there was so much of it and he couldn't take advantage of it. "Magic has been restrained. Whatever put us in here doesn't want us messing things up too much. The center of town does seem like our best option." He looked at the fire raging before him and he winced, bringing back instances of unpleasant memories. "We'll have to be careful. This place isn't friendly."
Tahlia could feel her heart beating so loudly, it almost deafened her to the fire raging outside. She took a few quiet steps towards her lover, and reached out to him—both mentally, and physically.
What she felt in him was not the familiar comfort of her eternal confidante, nor the teasing voice of her love. She felt only violence and hunger—the mind of a wolf, but still distinctly him. As if sensing her touch, the wolf's body grew rigid. He slowly lifted his maw from the impromptu feast and turned to look back at her. She too went rigid as the pair locked eyes.
Moving faster than any man, he stuck her with his paw, and she was flung from the floor. Tahlia crashed into a bookshelf, breaking her arm and skidding to the stone below. She saw him stalking slowly down the row towards her; in panic, she crawled towards the buildings gate-like doors, and pounded on them with her uninjured left fist. The door did not budge—barricaded from the other side. She could do naught but sob in fear as Faolan grew ever closer.
As his two compatriots talk of going to the center of town, to try and help the locals, James rolls his eyes. "Oh, certainly, yes! Help people that aren't even real... I wouldn't waste my time with such plebeians anyway. They're not worth it. Let them burn." He turns to walk away, but only gets a couple feet before bumping into a fleeing peasant. The peasant falls to the ground as James grunts and glares down at him. The peasant starts to sputter as James presses his foot against the peasant's chest, and points the blade toward his throat. "I'm going to list off some names. You're going to interrupt me if you recognize any of them, and tell me where they are, understand? I won't hurt you, I just need to ensure I have your attention." The peasant nods, as James lifts the sword away.
"Samuel, Rahim, Dean, Bald-- hah, nevermind that one... Kalemn? How about a woman named Tahlia?"
The peasant nods quickly. "Sie ist in der Bibliothek! (She's in the library!)"
James grimaces, though takes his foot off the peasant's chest. "Where?"
"Bis dieser Straße hinter mir und nach links! Seltsam Sie nicht wissen, du bist die Miliz, nicht wahr? (Up this road behind me and to the left! Strange you don't know, you're the militia, aren't you?)" The peasant asks with confusion in his tone.
With a vicious kick to the side, James answers the peasant's question as he scrambles to his feet and flees past the others. James turns, a severe look on his face. "I am going to save Tahlia. Join me, or save these useless apparitions. I don't care, but I could use the help, I'm sure. She's trapped in the library, up the road and to the left."
Kasienka found herself speechless after what James said, and then did. She knew his feelings were already sour towards her, and acting against him would increase them, but this was... She wished she could help the peasant James had antagonized, but her reflexive reach for her magic was left empty. Rather than argue with James, she followed along with him while keeping one of her hands resting on the grip of her sword. Nodding at Sisera and James, she began to run in the direction she was given. She knew enough Rheinfelder to know James wasn't lying about where to go. She wouldn't burst into the library until James and Sisera were beside her, but she didn't want to risk Tahlia dying from the flames or the smoke.
Sisera's eyes narrowed and dulled when he watch James. Whatever his thought's were on the man's actions, it wasn't apparent in his face that betrayed no expressions. He simply nodded and began to sprint towards the library. Gripping his short sword tightly. He knew this would end in a fight, a mostly likey a fairly nasty one at that.
As they move further into the burning town, the three would find the air thick and hot, making any breath laborious. On occasion they'd pass a fleeing peasant, panicked and faceless in the smoke. Somehow, the buildings seemed to burn long after they had expunged their fuel—even the stone buildings seeming to carry a blaze. Indeed, just as they rounded the bend of the road, a building collapsed to their right, sending a wave of soot and ash crashing into the militia. As the cloud dissipated, they finally caught sight of the library—the very heart of the inferno.
Though an imposing and stout building, stacks of lumber and hay had been stacked against its walls, flames climbing greedily across the stone walls. Stark against the blaze, dark figures seemed hard at work—some bringing in more fuel to maintain the fire, and others seemingly guiding the town's inhabitants out of danger. As the three approached, they would recognize the heavy armour of Rheinfelden templar—both the source of the town's peril, and apparently their only recourse for survival.
Closer to the large double doors of the library stood one templar in particular, taking control of the evacuation as he shouted orders to his brothers-in-arms.
Meanwhile, inside the library, Faolan hesitated. He was only steps away from Tahlia now, but a glimmer of curiosity cast itself in his eyes, and he turned from her to look squarely at the door she now supported herself against.
After a thoughtful pause, he threw himself at the doors, and again, repeatedly bending the woods with loud cracks. As she cowered in terror, Tahlia could hear shouts of warning from outside.[/hr]
James bolted at full speed, not caring if Kasienka or Sisera kept up with him as he reached the Templar surrounding the library. A look of disgust crosses his lips as he spits at the ground, then takes a deep breath and steps forward, chin held high. He reaches the doors, only to be shoved back by one of the Templar, as two others hold the door. Something was bashing at it. Though it took a moment, James picked up on a familiar snarl. Momentarily, his eyes flicker with sorrow and regret, as he takes a step back. "It's the wolf, isn't it." The Templar nods. "And the witch inside. They're threatening the town, we have to burn them down." James glares at the Templar, before glancing toward Kasienka and Sisera. "We need to get inside." He states plainly to them, moreso than to the Templar, who shook his head with disapproval. When Faolan hits the door again and draws the Templar's attention away, James motions with his hands that he needed a distraction.
When it was clear that the Templars were absolutely refusing them even a little bit of entry, Kasienka shrugged and began to walk back from where they came. When she was out of sight she slipped off the damned clunky boots she was wearing in this fantasy, and sprinted down an alley. Once she found a suitable pile of old crates that were slightly charred but mostly intact, she ran headlong into them to send them crashing and clattering. Just to make the situation more worthy of attention, she forced her male vocal chords to give the highest pitched shriek they could.
She threw down her leather vest to remove her chain mail, then slid the vest back on. Now she would have the advantage of near-silence in her movement. It was clear that her body was athletic, but it wasn't as strong as the one left on her usual plane... But it was capable enough to allow her to climb up a wall and onto a flat roof before the Templars could arrive. Given enough time, she would find a way to rejoin Sisera and James as quickly as possible.
The Templar briefly looks at James, and raises an eyebrow in confusion. Perhaps he was onto their scheme. Perhaps he didn't care. "HOLD THE DOOR! I will investigate." He moves past James, and as he moves toward the source of the noise, he looks back to Sisera. "Watch my back. Two of us can handle one damn wolf." He runs to the side of the Library, the sounds of Templar urging him to stop reaching his ears, and yet he didn't care in the slightest. Noticing a window not yet barricaded, he dashes past the Templar standing watch there, and leaps toward the window, smashing it with his blade and rolling onto the floor behind it clumsily. A small piece of glass cuts his left cheek, causing him to bleed as he quickly moves onto his feet, and spots Tahlia... And Faolan. "TAHLIA! I'M JAMES! GET BEHIND ME!"
Meanwhile, the Templar turns the corner, and finds the damaged crates. He draws his blade and moves to investigate, muttering aloud to himself. "First wolves with the strength of ten grown men, and now random violence in the streets? What next, a star falling from the Heavens?"
Sisera watches James jump through the window and then awkwardly looks at the two Templar's barricading the the door. After a moment or two he simply shrugs and runs towards the broken window himself, his shield blocked any of the glass from digging into his skin. He quickly rose up and shuddered when he eyed the wolf, for reasons he couldn't consciously explain. He stepped in front of Tahlia as well and kept his shield up and sword pointed at the wolf. Ready to thrust the point into it's flesh if it made a lunge.
Tahlia did not seem to process James's words—or at the very least, they garnered no recognition. His call did, however, attract her attention. "Please, leave! It's not safe in here!"
Unfortunately for the two men, she was not the only one to notice their arrival. Faolan ceased his attempts at breaking through the door, and turned instead to glare directly at James. In a burst of speed made all the more formidable by his size, the wolf charged forward.
Sisera would find himself knocked aside as the wolf's shoulder slammed into his shield, moving past him towards James, but his thrust managed to catch Faolan in the side, cutting a deep gash along his ribs. With a squeal of pain, he crashed to the floor and skid off course into a bookshelf. Still, he was not out of the fight yet, and rose steadily to face James again, now favouring his front-left leg.
It was enough of a distraction. She heard the shatter of glass and yelling behind her and it spurred her towards its source. She slid down from the roof then shouldered her way past a protesting Templar before jumping through the window into the library. The scene caught her off guard. Faolan knew them, or at least he definitely knew James...
She put the buckler in front of herself as she unsheathed her sword. She couldn't remember the last time she had used a sheild, but she was going to have to adjust. Rather than have the men assaulted again, Kasienka whistled shrilly and banged her sword against her shield. She was hardly in the room, and hopefully if Faolan charged her, she could get him to run through the broken window.
James steps in front of Tahlia, though rather than looking angry as he normally might, he simply stares at Faolan. He keeps his shield raised in front of himself, though his blade is lowered, as he tries to prevent showing too much aggression toward him. "I'm only here to protect Tahlia, Faolan." He states simply, the orange light of the fires outside bathing him in heat, as a mixture of sweat and blood from his cut cheek start rolling down the side of his face and dropping toward the ground. "I never lied when I said I was going to help you... Never lied about that. I have my own charge, just like you, that I'm going to help one day. I don't want to put Tahlia through the pain of losing you, so calm... Yourself, you're still a man inside, I know it. If you weren't, Tahlia would be dead. Listen that little voice... You're not gone... You can still come with us, it's not over. I can still help you." He tosses his blade aside and motions for Faolan to come closer, slowly. He glances toward Sisera and Kasienka: Both of them were able to rush to his aid, if he was attacked. The damn noble fools would, at that. "Come on... Please... Don't make me do this..."
Faolan glanced between Kasienka banging on her shield and James, seemingly determining which of the two was the greater threat. After a moment's hesitation, he again stalked towards James, apparently having made his choice.
Tahlia struggled to her feet, coughing even as the smoke grew thicker. It seemed the bookshelves at the opposite end of the library had begun to burn, and the flames were making their way towards them at the doorway. "You don't understand—he can't be reasoned with in this state! I don't want anyone else to have to die for us."
Noticing that Faolen continued approaching, James glances back momentarily to Tahlia with a somewhat panicked expression. "Oh. That's... Oh." Noticing the back of the library burning, he uses his free hand to grab Tahlia's hand, and starts guiding her toward the broken window. "And he's... Angry at me. Great." He once again glances between Kasienka and Sisera. "Keep him flanked, we have shields. If he attacks any one of us, the other two will go after him and..." He glances back to Tahlia once again, looking remorseful. "... And, finish him. If he won't let us escape peacefully."
Sisera took a deep breath and raised his shield again. This time though he banged his sword against it, hoping to distract and provoke the wolf away from James and towards himself, where he could make a final, killing thrust if he needed to.
He was hoping this was just all a dream.
James's intention was clear, as was Sisera's. Kasienka joined Sisera in making noise as she slowly moved to stand closer to him. As she moved across the room she also would take a step towards the wolf, then a step back. She wanted him threatened by her, not James and Tahlia. She had lived a long, good life. If she was killed now, and this wasn't a dream, she would die knowing she saved two lives. It would also pay, although the it would grossly overpay, her debt to James for harming him in the spar. Her sword was ready as she banged it against her shield and stomped her bare feet on the floor.
Faolan cowered at the banging, pained by the noise. This momentary distraction was all it took for James to tug Tahlia towards the window, despite her objections. "Please don't hurt him," she begged, trying to break free of his grasp. In his new form, however, James had little trouble maintaining his grip on her hand. "I did this to him. He doesn't deserve to die for my mistakes."
The wolf snarled and turned back to face them. With James and Tahlia by the window, Sisera and Kasienka stood in the his way. He wavered between the two shields, and then leapt forward, landing on her shield with both front paws—sending his immense weight crashing into her all at once.
James grits his teeth. He had no time to think. "Dammit," he mutters under his breath as he shoves Tahlia through the window and runs toward the wolf. He had no sword, but he had a shield. He had no idea how to use it, but it was enough to know that he could club something with it. "NOW SISERA!" He yells as he slams his shield against Faolan's head, trying to shove his jaws away from Kasienka's throat.
Sisera nodded silently as he lunged towards the beast with his sword, aiming for its neck to give it a clean, painless kill.
Stunned by James's blow to the head, Faolan was unable to dodge Sisera's strike. His blade pierced the wolf's neck, cutting deep into his throat, but not killing him outright. The wolf stumbled before slipping off of Kasienka, his left leg giving way as he crashed into the ground. He continued to struggle however, trying to muster the strength to return to his feet as he gurgled blood.
The fire continued to surge towards them, now quite close.
Restrained by a templar outside, Tahlia cried out wordlessly in grief as Faolan fell. The templar called out for help, and the sounds of other heavily armoured warriors rushing over was quick to answer him.
James looks between Kasienka and Sisera, and though blood still rolled from his cheek, he realized that more Templar were coming. "Do me a favour. Take Tahlia away from this place, would you? I'll join you later, when the Templar are finished beating my ass. Doubt they'll kill me, not a mage here." He picks up his blade. "Besides, none of this real... But I don't want her to see his body any longer than she has to." He glances back at Kasienka and Sisera, and manages a small smile. "See you later. Going to be in a lot of pain. It's going to be rather... Irritating." He runs and hops back out the window, this time landing on his feet. Seeing Tahlia restrained by the Templar outside, he bolts for the Templar and bashes into him, using his shield to try and break the Templar's grasp of Tahlia. Hopefully he'd manage to escape before the Templar would restrain him. He didn't buy it.
Ah, well. At least none of it was real. Tahlia would be safe, that's what would matter.
Sisera grunts as he pulls the sword out of the wolf's flesh, his uniform was now spattered with blood. He turns away from the soon to be corpse and merely makes a small nod to James, not bothering to return the smile. He dashes through the window just in time to see James smack the Templar with his shield. He reaches over and yanks Tahlia away from the dazed Templar and holds her arm tightly as he begins to run away.
"Kasienka" He screams, "Lead the way. Now!"
This wasn't right. It wasn't right! Save one, kill one, leave one? She shook her head and glanced at Faolan before running out of the library the same way she came. James did not deserve this. Sisera was calling for her, but she wasn't convinced it was right. James said it was a dream, but Kiune was strange in her ways. She couldn't leave Tahlia and Sisera...
She would do what she could for James. She threw her shield and adjusted her grip on the sword before throwing it, aiming for a Templar. She hoped it would strike his chest or sword arm. Give James a better chance.
"This way." She grasped the closest friendly hand and began to run out of town. Gods above she wished she had time to change James for her. To trade. If James died from this, if Faolan died from this, she would aim for Kiune to make it a triumvirate of deaths. This wasn't right.
Tahlia offered little resistance as she was led away by Sisera and Kasienka, in their militia forms. "I could have fixed him, if you'd just given me the chance. I needed more time." She continued to cry, now speaking more feebly. "I could have saved him, but… He's dead because of me. I turned him into a monster, and I was too weak to fix him, so I let him die."
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Reflections And Similarities
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The first sensation everyone would experience is a sensation of colours, mostly shades of purple and blue. Blurry, and incoherent, and followed rapidly by whispers. Somehow, all of them, in each their own way, could tell that they were no longer within their own minds. They had been taken somewhere.
Then, there was a distinctive chill in the air. The first breath in was sharp and stung from the cold, and the exhale left frost upon the glass underneath their feet. Glass which dropped away into a bottomless, black abyss. Looking around, they would find the ceiling and walls were mirrors, refracting themselves dozens of times... Yet, most of the mirrors appeared cracked. They appeared to be themselves, mostly, though decorated with angelic paraphernalia: Armour and robes that seemed to keep them protected from the bitter, terrible cold. All of them knew instinctively that without it, it wouldn't take long for them to die—minutes, tops.
Cennick and Samuel would find a black hand extended to each of them. Looking up, it was Hanus. He had a rather grim look on his face.
"Blasted woman," he grumbles.
There were four hallways that winded unpredictably out of the room, all with the walls and ceiling covered in mirrors, though one hallway had every mirror cracked and damaged.
Samuel surveyed his new surroundings, he'd kept to himself so far in the Druids place, and yet now here they were in... whatever this was. He attempted to summon Waral, but nothing happened. "Well that is disconcerting..." He couldn't even sense his ability. "So Hanus... what the hell is this?"
"Indeed Hanus," mumbled Cennick as he took the dark elves hand and pulled himself to his feet, eyes groggily scanning the 'room' they had found themselves in,
"What's happening here?"
Hanus looks around at the damaged mirrors, a disturbed frown breaking his otherwise typically chilled demeanor. He seems to momentarily consider not telling them a thing, though a loud, feminine scream of rage echoing some distance away down the broken, winding hall of mirrors seems to change his mind.
"Kiune sent our souls to the ethereal realm." He glances at Samuel.
"You can't use your magic here because you aren't here. Only your soul is." He looks up toward the hall of broken mirrors.
"None of this is real, and yet at the same time, it is perfectly real. We are inside someone's worst terrors made manifest. I have been through this before." He grimaces.
"Kiune will decide whether or not we live or die here. Don't take any chances."
Samuel sniffed. "Can't say I care much for the decor..." He studied the room, and the four paths. "I don't suppose these representations of ourselves have pockets full of breadcrumbs? Or something else to mark where we've been because I have a suspicion that no matter what, doubling up on ourselves is very very possible."
The woman's screams shook Cennick into awareness
"You've been through this before!?" he blurted at Hanus, ignoring the casual attitude of his wizard companion,
"You knew Kiune could this, and has done this, and you neglected to mention it?" He faced the dark elf, his his finger raised and sneer menacing, but said nothing. Blowing a sputtering, long sigh he just mumbled something to himself and continued,
"That's irrelevant, we will be having a conversation after this though. Until then, what do you suppose we do to get out of this literal nightmare? I don't think Kiune will just let us smash a few mirrors and let us go free..." He lowered his voice to an almost inaudible tone,
"Though if she does I'm going to cave her damn face in, deific powers be damned."
Hanus merely retains a stern expression as he steps past Samuel and Cennick.
"We do not need bread crumbs." He steps into the winding hallway of broken glass, then looks down and grimaces at the large number of scattered shards.
"One need only follow the signs of loathing." He turns and looks back at Cennick and Samuel.
"As for Kiune, if I told you everything I knew, what would it really do? We are in no position to fight her, nor should we. If she wished us dead, we would simply be dead. If this is all she demands as compensation for saving our lives, consider yourselves lucky." His eyes fall upon Cennick specifically.
"Child."
He then looks over his armoured clothing.
"Strange, this might serve as a clue... Angelic equipment that keeps us warm in this cold. Come then, let's go, and tell me... What do you think of what we are?"
Samuel considered Hanus' question. "I think I don't have enough information to make an informed judgement on what we are. Magic is clearly linked to body not soul or I would be able to call upon it here." He studied the area that Hanus had stepped into. It was the cracked and shattered hallway and he couldn't help but consider it menacing.
"Regardless, I suspect the cold isn't the only danger here. I've heard of many cases where mirrors had power, and if we're in somebody's cracked psyche, then we may be in far more danger..." Samuel said with a shrug. "And if we're here in soul only. Who knows what effect something as dangerous as even imagination will have on this place."
Hanus' 'child' comment solicited little more than an eye twitch from the duelist,
"I'm aware of what Kiune has done for us and of her power, it's just that... I... Well, it's irrelevant at the moment." He glanced down at his strange armour and then down the shattered hallways, only turning away from the latter to hear out the wizard or whom he replied with a shrug of his own. It was a fair enough assessment of the situation. He directed his attention back to his angelic garb,
"Perhap's we're supposed to be angels?" He said somewhat hesitantly,
"Maybe gods?"
"Maybe." Hanus states bluntly, as he looks over his armour once again.
"I prefer to wear darker clothes than this." He chuckles at his own joke, then continues moving down the shattered hallway.
The hallway wound in a tight, serpentine pattern, leaving little room for them to move around in. It took them a few minutes of travel before finally reaching the other side, the mirrors all throughout damaged and shattered from what looked to be direct impacts. As Hanus emerges first, he's greeted to the sound of his foot pressing against snow, and light snowfall around them. He appeared somewhat surprised, even a little mystified, before snapping out of his curiosity for the white substance to focus on the area around. Dozens of frozen people, standing like statues in various positions, though all with expressions of anger on their faces. Anger, and fear.
Ahead of them, over a few foot tall hill made of snow, they could hear the sounds of impacts: Fists against glass. Hanus grimaces and reaches to his waist, only to realize he had no weapons. He glances back at Cennick and Samuel, silently, as though looking for their opinions to the situation, though not speaking in order not to allow whatever was over the hill to overhear them.
Samuel considered the situation, whatever it was was enraged, and yet they were unarmed without even his ability to summon to protect them in that manner. So force likely wasn't the answer, and if it was he was the wrong person to be here.
He moved up to Hanus and put his mouth close to the mans ear while trying to look non-threatening. "Perhaps we try simply speaking to them. We are not reflections, I hope, so our presence might not earn their ire."
Cennick regarded the new environment with suspicion, kneeling down to pick up a handful of snow-like substance giving it a quick sniff to confirm that, yes, it was in fact just snow. He began turning his hand to dump the snow back onto the ground, but was struck with an uncharacteristic bout of genius and instead balled the small pile into a ball. Lightly tossing the ball into the air he looked to Hanus and Samuel, catching a snippet of the wizard's oddly cautious dialogue,
"I see no reason not to talk, It's not like we have another course of action," he spoke plainly.
The sound of fists hitting glass stops as Cennick speaks, whatever was on the other side heard them clearly. Then, a voice rings from over the hill of snow, one of anguish and loathing.
"STAY AWAY FROM ME!" It was Kouri's voice, though her tone implied a physical sort of weakness. Hanus glances back to the broken glass of the hall behind the trio, and walks over to it. Kneeling down, he briefly investigates the glass, and notices hints of blood on it. He grimaces, and presents a piece for Samuel and Cennick to see.
"This needs to stop."
The revelation that the woman was all it took to drive Cennick into action, though he managed to reign his emotions in enough to not literally run to her aid. He simply started walking up the hill at a deliberate pace, passing the snowball in between his hands as he made his way,
"Kouri? It's just us, you don't have to worry."
Samuel was shocked at the sound of Kouri's voice. "No Kouri, we can't do that. You're very important to us and the world. To me." He said at last sauntering towards the sound of her voice. He knew that in this state of mind he was probably in as much danger from Kouri as whatever the mirrors held. But he wasn't going to leave her, trapped, in this... this hell. "You don't have to do this, whatever it is, alone. You don't have to fight alone any more. And you're not responsible for those who have fallen, or will fall, by the wayside.
WE chose to come with you.
WE chose to face whatever may come knowing that defying the gods would have a price, a high one." He continued to talk calmly and reasonably. "And I tell you that I'm not going to abandon you and leave you to whatever the fates may hold even should it cost my life,
I may be a noble, though also not be the most noble of men
I am not without flaws, many probably, but I will not leave you to an unwanted fate without exhausting my ability to help you. After all, should
I fall, what is my life next to the greatest hope for the dissolution of the gods as a power."
As Samuel and Cennick crest the mound of snow, they would be able to see Kouri punching a solitary mirror. She looked exhausted, her hair was a mess, as she falls onto her knees. The mirror refused to shatter, though as she slid down to her knees, her hand slides down the mirror, leaving blood on it. Her blue dress looked darker than it normally was, with a few droplets of blood here and there. Her hands had a half a dozen small glass shards in them, and she was actively bleeding.
"No... No... Just... Just stay away..." Kouri whispers weakly, as her reflection steps out of the mirror.
Though, as it did, the colour faded from it. Black hair, with a black dress, and skin so unnaturally pale it looked dead. The reflection took the blood off the mirror with it, staining its dress in small spots of red. Looking down, the one in the black dress scoffs and shakes her head as she looks down on the one in blue.
"Why do I whine?" The one in blue glances back toward Cennick and Samuel, it was clear she had been in overwhelming physical pain, yet she had continued to punch and smash every mirror she passed by. The one in black looks up to them as well, only to shake her head.
"Ah... These must be my new servants. I wonder how long until I betray them, like everyone else I have ever known?"
Hanus steps over the snow mound, and glares toward the one in black.
"You betrayed no one."
The one in black lazily turns toward Hanus and laughs.
"A Dark Elf?" The one in black giggles, before continuing to speak.
"My, but that I must be so prideful of low my standards are to accept one of you." She then looks back down on the one in blue, who had her eyes closed as she cried in pain.
"I did betray my people. My family. Everyone I knew, really. If I had just accepted marriage, I would have suffered, but my people would have been spared... Yet, I didn't do it. You know why, Hanus? It's because I wanted to live. I believed those who live above me to be benevolent, loving Gods... Just, and fair... Except that isn't how life works, is it? I enjoy watching others suffer. I enjoy killing, and pain. There is no other answer, and the part of me that's so stubborn about ethics and morality should accept it already. She should give up."
Samuel rolled his eyes.
Oh fun. Her mind is at war with itself.
He didn't slow his approach. "You enjoy killing and pain? Maybe a part of you does. Secretly I suspect we all have a part of us that enjoys the power it gives us, that affirmation that death is within our power." He didn't take his eyes off of the dark Kouri, this place was dangerous after all.
He looks at the Dark Kouri in the eyes. "You think I have no secretly been thrilled when Waral has trampled something because I desired it? You think that I haven't used Zalam to assassinate a rival and revelled in it?" He paced towards the blue Kouri. "Cruelty, is a disease of the nobility, those nobles seen as too weak are typically deposed and so it has trained us to be something to be feared."
He plucked at the armour he wore. "What makes us different from the things that wear such frippery as this is that we can choose to acknowledge our disease, our strength, and not give in to it. Not forget that it exists, but suppress it because we know in our minds that cruelty can only achieve so much, and in the end it merely engenders resentment, hatred and eventually revolution."
He didn't change pace or tone of voice, almost adopting an educators tone, the Dark Kouri wouldn't listen to an impassioned speech he didn't think. "And so we adopt another persona," He laid a hand gently on the Blue Kouri's shoulder as an emphasis to a point, he would have lightly squeezed to try and comfort that part of Kouri, but it would be a mistake he felt.
"This side of ourselves is a mask, a shield, a check and balance on our more primal self. Something to protect where cruelty would fail. Something to guard when pain and death would provoke." He continued to maintain eye contact with Dark Kouri.
"This mask is as necessary to us as breathing, for those of us, the nobility, who embrace only the darkness within are soon reviled and hunted even when fear should make the little people tremble. Instead we use our intelligence to restrain ourselves and reserve that dark heart of hearts for our enemies upon whom we can visit such terrible vengeance that the next generation would fear to cross us." His eyes smiled. "It is all well and good to do things for the greater good. It is all well and good to do things for ourselves, but to devote your whole self to one is to fail, to wither and die because should one fall to one side or the other, all you do is prove weakness."
He cocked his head. "You, and you," He nodded at Dark Kouri, and squeezed the shoulder of the Light Kouri, "are not fools, you are not weak, you are being manipulated by whomever put us in this cage of your soul and if succumbing to it is all you can do then perhaps my respect and awe are misplaced. If you are too weak to come to the conclusion that you are two important pieces of a whole then perhaps we are doomed from the start."
He smiled, almost cruelly, "So get your head out of your head and get back in the game, because hells damn it I want to kill a god with you. For your good, and everyone elses."
Cennick said nothing, just shrugged and nodded along as Samuel went upon his spiel, keeping whatever thoughts that were swirling in his mind to himself for the time being.
The one in blue manages a slight smile, though her eyes remained closed and tears continued to stream down her cheeks. The one in black, however, steps closer, and looks Samuel over.
"You really think highly of yourself, don't you? So noble, so above it all. Yet, here you are, wandering without so much as a single servant... Eyeing a morsel beyond your tastes and salivating with every pause in conversation or polite smile." She sighs and brings a finger underneath the one in blue's chin, tilting it upward. They look each other in the eyes.
"N-No... No..." The one in black shrugs and smiles as she looks at Samuel.
"I have to, he convinced me with his platitudes."
Icy hands climb out from the snow and grasp on Samuel's boots, wrapping up to his knees in ice. While the armour did what it could, he could feel the ice damaging it, slowly splitting it apart and leaving only the unprotected cloth underneath. The one in blue flinches and looks away, as the one in black grabs her hair and pulls it violently, forcing her to the ground so she couldn't look away.
"LOOK AT IT! There's yet another one, who stares me, and wants me! Wants me for what I am, not who. Who swore to win me like some meat on a butcher's rack. No better than Typhon. How am I supposed to save the world when monsters like him are everywhere? Stop empathizing with them, give in, enjoy it. Enjoy the pain, enjoy the revenge."
Hanus steps past Cennick and punches the one in black, trying to get her away from Kouri, only to be grasped by the throat and lifted off of his feet.
"See? I am so much more powerful. All you have to do is let me out... Let me go, and I will win everything for you. Embrace me. I am better than any of these people." Hanus manages to kick himself out of the one in black's grasp, though coughs up blood, and frost is around his throat.
"All fighting me did was get me hurt... And I've been hurt for so long... Just give up now. It's so much easier that way."
Samuel rolled his eyes. "Of course I want you for what you are," Samuel said plainly, "And it seems that the animal part of Kouri must be a moron to assume that who isn't part of that." He didn't bother struggling against the cold. This was her place and his own strengths were absent.
He allowed scorn to slip into his tone. "But it seems that the part of Kouri that likes pain and thinks she is strong isn't. Because it is evident that she is scared of that part of herself that is able to chain her away. Scared of the strength of will that allows Kouri to function as a person instead of an Orc berzerker with syphilis. Utterly terrified of the fact that the Kouri I know is stronger for who she is. But no you, the cowardly pain bringer are so scared of being whole, something greater than the mere torturer part of you could ever be."
"No, this part of you is not worth respect or awe. It is worth only contempt for it is incapable of choosing to be something beyond a rabid animal." His voice was almost a snarl. Instead grasped the Blue Kouri by the shoulders and tried to heave her up. "And you, so wrapped up in your own self-pitying that you won't stand up to the side of yourself you kept chained for so long."
He stared into her eyes.
"You are already strong enough to chain her. You have already chained her before and now. So don't chain her. Don't slay her. Take her into yourself, recognise that she is part of you. But only a part, and not a very strong one." He said. "Don't be Kouri the Black. Don't be Kouri the White."
He grinned a wry grin.
"Be Queen Kouri of Renalta, the Godslayer. Recognise the strengths in both your light and dark side and realise you don't have to be enslaved by either. Be a person, not a mere concept and know, damn the gods that i'll be here to fight for you, die for you, and if you want it, love you." He said as he let go of her. "But this is your fight, not ours. And if you fail to take responsibility for it then more people WILL die, and the dark part of you will win alone. Embrace her. Become one with parts fo both, then we can go and speak to the Druid and get back on with the job."
"You're not helping Samuel. Not at all." Cennick said, the hypocrisy of the statement not lost on him as he stood just throwing his snowball in the air and catching it as events unfolded before him. He would only would appear even more hypocritical as he put his 'genius' into action,
"Kouri- Er, Black Kouri. Mirror Kouri? Whatever you want to be called. Regardless, you're being a selfish bitch." He lightly tossed his snowball at her in punctuation.
"You... Really think, this is a light and dark side issue, huh? Why--" The one in black was so caught up in her speech and disdain for Samuel, that the snowball hits her right across the face. She wipes the snow off, and glares at Cennick.
"That was a really foolish mistake. Now, you'll have to die." The one in blue looks up and watches as the one in black starts walking toward Cennick leisurely. Though her hands were blood-drenched messes, she reaches out and touches Samuel's legs, freeing him from the ice. The one in black turns and opens her mouth, presumably to abuse the one in blue more, only for Hanus to suddenly leap to his feet and tackle the one in black. He slams her into the solitary mirror, and a slight, small crack forms against the surface, an open cut runs across the one in black's face. She flinches in pain, but grabs Hanus and with a single movement, a spike of ice shatters his torso armour and sends shards into him. Yet, he wouldn't budge.
"Why won't you run?!" The one in blue whispers weakly.
"I'm not worth all this death... I still hear their screams in my head... I never wanted to kill anyone..." Hanus grits his bloody teeth and shoots an angry and pained look toward the one in blue.
"It's not your damn choice! I choose to serve you. Now get on your feet and do something, because whether you do something or not, the killing will go on. The only question is whether it--" The one in black grins and grabs Hanus' throat again, silencing him.
"Yes, yes it will, and I will do nothing... I'm too afraid, isn't that right? The others will see the truth in time, see me for what I really am."
Samuel helped up the supine Kouri. "We don't run because we have faith in you." He turned to the dark Kouri, "No, I don't think it's a black and white issue, though i'm not surprised your limited intellect failed to pick up on my point that you are both stronger together than apart. That you're a fool for struggling for power over your disparate selves."
He laughed mockingly at the Dark Kouri. "If you had any idea how strong you would be together as one then we could simply stop wasting our time here." His grinned. "You enjoy killing and pain and torture, you enjoy strength. While the other part of you represses and holds you in thrall to be allowed out only in desperate times. The other feels nothing but remorse for those who've expended their lives over her act of defiance over a petty rapist with wings, and yet shows incredible strength in her defiance and ability to keep you down as well as the conviction to take this through to it's conclusion."
"Well if you but had the courage to embrace the strengths of both sides, then nothing could stop you." He smiled at the blue Kouri. "As for you little Sialia, whether you wished to kill or not the world has forced it upon you, and now you have to choose again, stand up for yourself, or watch as we three die for you."
He kissed her lightly on the forehead. "And if you choose the latter, it's been fun little Sialia, except for this part…"
"A little better Samuel. Not good, but better."
The gambit had paid off, somewhat. Cennick had at least pulled the Black Kouri from the less-than-helpful mage, though a whole new issue arose quite quickly. "Alright, Kouri," He started, as he scrambled for something to help Hanus,
"I think I know what you're going through and I'll tell you, it's completely normal. You feel guilty for surviving when so many others died, you're blaming yourself for actions that were not yours to begin with. You did not bring down an angelic host down upon your kingdom, that was Typhon. His inability to accept rejection is not your fault, that is his own. Realize you're a victim like everyone else. Typhon caused all of that death and all of that suffering, you just managed to be the only one to escape it. You are all that is left of that period, you are sole fruit of all their labours and loves. They died so that you may one day return to restore what they once cherished, to blame their deaths on yourself is almost an insult to their memory."
He fell to his knees and started hastily searching through the snow before continuing, his words grew raspy as his breath started falling short,
"Furthermore, you have been granted a great opportunity, not only to avenge those killed but to prevent such massacres from happening in the future. Not all massacres, but enough to fight for. That's far more than most everyone else gets to do, an opportunity that you have to take for the raw amount of good you are capable of accomplishing is astounding. Even if you do not ultimately succeed, you have to try, because it is just the right thing to do."
Something hard brushed against Cennick's gauntlet, and pulling it out revealed it to be a shard of mirror.
Good enough. Wielding the shard like a convict may wield a shank he looked to the Black Kouri,
"This 'reflection' is no dark side. There is no 'Black Kouri'. All she is a mental parasite that's been feeding on your insecurities, growing so fat she now holds almost complete dominion over your mind. Don't let this pest take over, she is not you. She is not what you stand for. She is not who you want to become. Just destroy her. Do it for those who have already died. Do it for those you can save. Do it for Hanus who's giving his life you as we speak. Hells, just do it for me, because I'm about to do something very foolish and will be needing all the help I can get." With that last word Cennick charged towards the Black Kouri, mirror shard aimed for deadly intent.
"Just quit trying." The one in black mutters under her breath, her teeth clenched as Hanus closes his eyes in pain, focusing on keeping her pinned to the mirror. As Cennick descends the glass shard into the one in black's side, she grits her teeth and grabs his arm, freezing it into place. Blood rolls down her side, and another crack forms in the mirror, but she doesn't seem particularly hurt by it.
"I won't help you. I never do. I'm not worth it... Isn't that right?"
The one in blue slowly gets to her feet, blood rolling freely down her fingers, and turning to ice as they fall toward the snow.
"I am not." She walks over to the one in black, and forces her into the mirror. The one in black pounds at the mirror from the other side.
"They are, though." Kouri takes a deep breath and pulls back her fist, ready to hit the mirror with all the strength she had left, only to hesitate as the mirror momentarily fogs over. The one in black is replaced by the image of someone nobody else in the group recognized. A woman with short blonde hair, staring at Kouri with a soft smile.
"It's not too late to save me. Just let everyone go, stop being so weak. You could make the world bend to your whim, and bring me back." Kouri smiles a little back, then smashes the mirror with a single, violent punch, that shatters it into several hundred pieces, many of which cut her arm, and a couple of which cut her face.
She falls onto her knees once more, too weak to stand any longer. Her blue eyes had an empty look to them, as she stares at the snow beneath her. Much of it was turning red with her blood, as it seeped through the smallest of holes.
"I'm afraid I can't, sister. I already failed you... I'm so sorry..."
Hanus falls onto his knees and breaths, haggardly, as he was barely alive at this point. It didn't seem to bother him though, as he glanced at Cennick and nodded with approval.
Samuel smiled at the result. Where logic had failed appealing to Kouri's inner strength had played it's part. He picked up a shard of the mirror, wondering if it would be there when all this was done, wondering at it's magic potential.
Instead he walked over to Kouri and crouched down beside her. "I'm proud of you little Sialia." He let the smile slide from his face as he realised. "... but we're still here... either this was the first test of many, or you're going to have to show us the way out."
Cennick stood still, frozen arm hanging limply at his side with the mirror shard still firmly gripped in hand. The look of dumbfounded relief that marked his face was but a a shadow of his inner thoughts, which were crying with triumph. He sighed a stuttering sigh a sat hard onto the ground with a crash and looked to Kouri,
"Thank you." he stated simply before falling to his back with a second crash.
Samuel grinned and picked up a handful of snow, balling it up and throwing it at Cennick with an open laugh.
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Secrets And Revelations
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As the party each recovers from their journeys throughout the terrifying expressions of power Kiune demonstrated being capable of, they would find themselves each, in turn, being asked questions, and offered one secret of their choice. Through a kind of magic that was difficult to understand, each would see and hear all of the others, one after another, after having given their answers. In essence: Kiune made each feel alone, then revealed to all what it was they had said. A final betrayal of privacy for some, illuminating for all.
Dean
As Dean accepted his fate and was ready for death, he would find that a simple blink of his eyes, everything was gone. All the others, the dead, the orcs--all gone. Nothing but an emptiness that he found himself in, pitch black, with no sign of anything anywhere around him. Yet, a voice came through it all, disembodied and gentle. The voice of Kiune, asking him a question.
"You passed your test. Do you have any questions?"
It hadn't been long enough for him to forget the solid black abyss that was Kiune's magic. As the witch's soft voice echoed seemingly out of nowhere Dean struggled to keep his calm. It acted as confirmation this wasn't some twisted afterlife, and pointed at some cruel intention she may have for him. Closing his eyes and breathing deeply, Dean tried to steady his racing heart. "Hundreds. But I think you'll forgive me if I'm not very talkative. Seeing my brother butchered for a second time will do that." He chewed the inside of his lip a bit, letting the anger wash over him for a moment. He didn't like the idea of this having been some kind of test anymore than he liked living through it again. "What are you? Some kind of God, or merely a very powerful witch?"
"I am many things beyond your understanding, but I am no god. I am merely one born from many." She replies cryptically.
"You may ask from me one secret, and I will tell you should it be within my power to know."
Dean's mouth hung agape for a moment, he scoffed at how arrogant this woman could be. He did his best not to lose his temper in the moment. He had just escaped a nightmare and didn't wish her to place him in a new one."Gods above you're a fucking treat aren't you?" He laughed while trying to make sense of what she was saying, his laughter subsided and he looked into the void. "A secret? All that for a secret? Not that I don't appreciate it, but I'm not even sure I would know what to ask, or why I'd care about other people's secrets."
He sighed, a quiet echo through the abyss, racking his brain in an attempt to land on some kind of decision. He had never considered himself an ambitious person by any means, but here sat a real opportunity for power. In the Darkness he saw the faces of his loved ones again, but this time he recognized it was no simple dream, it was his own eyes playing tricks this time. He blinked lightly, and realized what mattered most at least to him. "Just assure me that my family is safe. And let this test be done. Please."
"From what I know, I can assure you, they are safe." Kiune whispers reassuringly, as Dean could feel himself being pulled back to his body in the mortal realm once again.
Rahim
Before Rahim could get any sort of response out of Mikan, he would feel himself dragged away into darkness by hands he couldn't see. The world faded, and he was left there, without anyone else. Kiune's voice rings out from the void, speaking gently to the brutish man.
"You passed your test. Do you have any questions?"
As Rahim felt the hands grasping at him, ripping him away from Mikan and away from whatever confusing reality held them all, the amazon did what he did best. He fought against it. He knew it was a futile effort, and he knew that he'd never beat the spectral hands that controlled this dream; but he was determined to try.
When he finally heard Kiune's voice, he stopped struggling. A part of him had always suspected the Druid-woman for starting all of this, but now he knew; at least. "Why did you do this? Is everyone else safe? If you've harmed any of them, I will find a way to break free of this magic and hunt you down." He said, a cold anger bubbling in his words. Whatever rage had nearly possessed him before was still bubbling away, a pent up knot of frustration looking for a quick release.
"You would try, and fail." Kiune warns simply. Then, her tone softens. "They are all safe, for now. I did this to test all of you, to know what you would do given the terrible journey that lies ahead of you. I had to know what you would do, Amazon. Now, I know, and the answer satisfies me."
She pauses, briefly.
"You may ask from me one secret, and I will tell you should it be within my power to know."
Rahim paused as he listened to the Druidic force. His bubbling rage was starting to slowly burn itself out, and now he was left to ponder her question, and her offer. What secret was he most interested in? This woman was powerful, to be sure. She had access to people's very memories, it seemed. She had an entire web of knowledge, and the confidence and power to challenge an Archangel by stealing his prize from under his nose.
Power...It was always a strange thing. It drove him forward, even from his first day of leaving the forest of Katafýgio. The power to make his own choices. The power to be more than just an afterthought in the background of someone else's story. The power to try and write just a little of his own tale. Now, he needed power for a different reason, a far more noble reason; perhaps. He looked up to Kiune, hoping that he wasn't about to make a mistake. "I seek strength beyond my means. I want to be able to fight things that would wash away other men. I want to be able to stand tall in the face of those who would bring death upon my new clan. I want to be able to help people: To help Mikan, and Kouri, and Dean, and Amaia, and Kasienka, and anyone else who might not be able to defend themselves..." He intentionally ommited the names of Marcus and Hanus, because he had no doubts that the pair would not need his help in defending themselves; even if he desired to be strong enough to add them to the list. "...Any secret you can give me that might protect them would be my ask. A weapon, or knowledge, or a hint...even a curse would do. I cannot take my rite from my people, they would not give it to me until I prove myself to the Archigós (Chief)." He said, before slowly bowing his head low. "Make me strong enough to protect them, and I would forever be in your debt." He lowered himself to his knees, as he put his forehead on what he thought to be the floor. He cared little about his personal honour at this point. If this woman could offer him what he sought, he would give anything. He did not ever want to watch helplessly as someone he cared for suffered, ever again.
"Power corrupts, young one." Kiune states bluntly, before continuing with an answer. "The answer you seek, is the same as that which Hanus has told you. Master your mind, master your weapons, hone your skills, work with your allies, and find masterfully crafted things. I know this is not the answer which you seek, but power does not come as an easy grace. It is a responsibility, something you learn, something you find, something you grow. Earn your power, Rahim of the Amazons, for I shall not simply give it to you. Your rage controls you, you do not control it. If I gave you such power, you would inevitably, one day, harm your allies. All of them. Including the princess, which I cannot allow. The one thing I can tell you, is this journey you are on will take you across many places. Many powerful, many cunning, and many liars. You will gain a great deal of power much faster than most ever would. Just, take this extra piece of advice, about power."
As she says this, Rahim would feel himself slowly being pulled back to his own body.
"Be careful who you trust with power, or to give you power. The kindest of faces, most humorous of people, and any who promise you more than they are... May not always give you what you want, and may even betray you in the end."
Kalemn
Kalemn would find herself pulled into darkness, her grip on Dean having faded instantly, as though all that had once been had faded away. All around her she was cloaked in darkness, yet, she could hear a voice speaking to her... The voice of the druid who had brought them all to the grove in the first place.
"You passed your test. Do you have any questions?"
"Test?" Kalemn exclaimed. "That was you? What are you doing digging around in our heads?" She paused. "If you were looking through our memories, you know I've been lying. So why did you drag us into Dean's memories?"
"What am I doing in your head?" Kiune repeats with amusement. "Testing you. Testing him. It was really random chance that had Dean's memories be flushed out, not yours... Of course, if you were wiser, you would watch your tongue around me."
Still, with an audible sigh, she continues.
"You may ask from me one secret, and I will tell you should it be within my power to know."
Kalemn briefly considered denying the offer out of spite, but there was nothing to gain from doing so. Instead she held her tongue, and struggled to think of something she wanted to know. Whether Typhon had discovered who her family was, perhaps. But as she opened to mouth to form the question, something else came to mind. "I want to know about Kouri's plan to beat the Gods. Where to go, what to do... I want to know what I've been tied into."
"She hasn't told you?" Kiune mutters in a perplexed fashion. Nonetheless, she continues by answering it. "There is a powerful, indestructible temple. Some say it was made by Fate and Destiny themselves, I would not doubt it. It is made of stone, as white as the snow that buries it. Many have searched for it throughout the years, none have found it. It, apparently, only shows itself to those of certain bloodlines, or talents, none of which I know. From what I am aware of, the royal family of Renalta knew where it was once--a secret they kept to themselves... And they possess a bloodline that would awaken it. There are a select few others that should surely know where it is too, but they are likely even older than I, and thus, more detached from the world. I would guess that the princess' plan is to go to this temple, though, I will not lie to you: Whether she knows how to use it, or even where it is, I do not know... I do not know these things, myself. Merely that it exists."
With her question answered, Kalemn would feel herself being tugged back to her body. Slowly, and softly.
Mikan
Mikan found herself slowly opening her eyes in the midst of darkness. She looks down at herself, and touches her neck. Relief flooded through her as she realized the sickness was gone. Then, a voice came through the darkness to her. It was the druid... It was all magic.
"You passed your test. Do you have any questions?"
Mikan looks around, wildly, fear in her green eyes.
"Vater und Mutter, schütze mich... (Father and Mother, protect me...)"
"Your Gods cannot hear you here."
"I have faith."
"It is misplaced."
"It is what keeps me alive, misplaced or not."
"Do you have any questions?"
"Nein. (No.)"
Kiune seems a bit confused, but continues.
"You may ask from me one secret, and I will tell you should it be within my power to know."
Mikan goes silent, looking at her hands, and frowning. She had a lot of different questions she could ask.
"Is there a point?"
"What do you mean?"
"You are a witch. I can't trust you."
"The princess is a witch. Why follow her?"
"She's more than a witch. A lot more... You're just a witch."
"A witch who saved you from Typhon's wrath."
"I don't think you can answer the biggest question that matters to me anyway."
"What's that?"
Mikan sighs, and speaks out each word, slowly.
"Will I ever be free from the voices of my past? From the bloody hands that choke me in my dreams?"
"... You are right, I do not have an answer for you for that. You may ask me something else if you wish."
"Well..."
Mikan smirks playfully, as she closes her eyes and places her hands behind her head.
"How many men have you slept with?"
"... Really?"
"Ja. (Yes.) I want to know how many people someone like you has caught in her web."
"Should I limit it to just men, or tell you everything?"
"Everything, obviously!"
"Well... I will tell you, I lost count a long, long time ago. When I was a young druid, I was... Quite... Fruitful, how shall we say. Lots of different men, and a few women. When I used to shapeshift into various beasts, those too. Oh, and the basement you whispered going into, there is a... Certain... Oddity. Several, er, limbs. Goes rather... Excessive. It comes from a far away land, and if you had encountered it alone, it would have ah... Shown you a few experiences you would have never forgotten. Ones I don't recommend you to see when you are so young, it ruins your appetite for mere men. I haven't entertained for a long while though, it's... When you get old enough, when enough time passes, the carnal thrill of having anyone you please fades away. Eventually, all that's left are those you need to put work into. Those who evolve into more than just... Objects of sanguine desire, but, persons of affection. The only pleasure I find left in consummating such a ritual is with those who not only entertain my eyes, but my heart too, young Rheinfelder."
Mikan pauses, and then frowns as the story goes along. "Ah, I see... So it won't keep me away forever."
As she feels herself pulled back to the mortal realm, she keeps her eyes shut tightly, and hears one last thing from Kiune.
"Only the truth will give you freedom, and life is never without consequence, young one."
"... I know, witch... I know..."
Amaia
Before Amaia could even try to respond to Marcus, she would find the room grow dim, and her voice momentarily fail her. Darkness rapidly wraps around her form, like a pair of raven's wings, and they did not abate. The floor underneath her gives way, and she quickly finds herself floating in darkness. She was back in her old, human form, and her voice was returned to her--her own voice, not that of the crude beast she had been before. Kiune speaks to her, though from where in the darkness, Amaia could not determine: It was simply a void she floated in, in every perceptible direction.
"You passed your test. Do you have any questions?"
With shaky hands, Amaia feels her own face, expecting to find a bestial guise and feeling a wave of heady relief as she recognizes it as he familiar features instead. Guilt and a hint of revulsion follow, but she chokes those down and looks around futilely for the source of the voice. A few important questions come to her immediately. "Why?" Rather than the bold anger she hopes to hear in her voice, the word comes in nearly a whisper, full of hurt. She swallows hard and pushes on, feeling unwanted tears welling up in her eyes. "Why did you do that to me? How did you know what..." She trails off, unable to finish the question around the lump in her throat as she remembers everything she has seen.
"I know you." Kiune replies cryptically. "I know your homeland. I know what you've done. One of the people you murdered in your little quest for purity was part of my coven. He was outside of my reach when you killed him, but not my sight." Amaia would feel a cold breeze blow past her, seemingly from nowhere, and just as quickly as it appeared, it faded. "However, I do not believe in a death for a death. I saw what such brutality wrought upon the world, and it cured nothing. You feel regret, you feel sorrow. You feign the mask of a fanatic, but you don't carry it very well. It's a weight to you, not a liberation. Had you come here some years earlier, you would not have left alive. Now?... There is hope for you, yet, but I had to ensure you saw the pain you inflicted on others, and felt every second of it, so you can understand what you did was wrong. That way, I can ensure that the princess is in the company of those who will not betray her."
A moment passes, and Kiune's voice turns soft as she speaks once more.
"You may ask from me one secret, and I will tell you should it be within my power to know."
Amaia shudders as she feels the chill wind, and not because of the temperature. She listens in brooding silence and can find no obvious fault or falsehood in Kiune's words, though she dearly wishes she could as they twist her guts in knots of guilt and self-loathing. The offer comes as a surprise to her, and she swipes a hand across her eyes to brush away unshed tears as she thinks. Ideas race through her mind, questions about how to defeat the gods or the psychotic angel who laid a death sentence on all who help Kouri or where to find some powerful artifact to make her strong enough to fight those threats directly, and they all melt away before a burning question that she has held for years. A selfish question, nothing to help her allies, but one that she cannot resist asking after what she had recently witnessed.
"Is Giselle alive? Did she make it away from the witch hunters? Is she okay now?" Amaia clears her throat, fighting and failing to keep her voice steady. "I know that's more than one thing, but.. please." Her voice breaks on the last word, one she is unaccustomed to using, and she feels a tear rolling down her cheek as she chokes out a further plea. "I need to know."
"She was slain near my grove. A witch hunter ended her life a few miles away from the border." Kiune replies softly, gently. "I am sorry for your loss. I hope you may reconcile it, one day." She slowly starts to bring Amaia back from the darkness, back to the mortal realm. There was even a certain gentleness in the way that Amaia could feel herself pulled back, like a pair of arms wrapped around her that she could not see, but feel.
Baldrik
As Baldrik braces for further combat, he would find the darkness at the end of the hall flood rapidly across, suddenly, in one movement. He would feel himself momentarily blinded, and when he could see again, he was floating alone, in a realm of sheer nothingness. He looked like himself again, rather than whatever the nightmare state had made him. Yet, he was not alone. He could hear a voice, soothing and feminine...
... It was Kiune's voice.
"You passed your test. Do you have any questions?"
Baldrik felt a hint of sadness run through his mind again when he saw his familiar right arm once more. He felt confusion, dazed, maybe even a little bit hopeless as he floated alone in the nothingness. Wait... He just went from- was this all just a dream?! Baldrik quickly grew self-conciouss as his mind realized what his previous dream was all about. Hearing Kiune's voice reassured him atleast a little bit regarding what the hell was going on, but he couldn't just accept a simple pat on the back for doing something even he was unaware of. He quickly responded to hers, talking into the darkness:
"What? I passed a test? Hold on for a moment. What was this test all about, why was I pulled into that dream-world, where's Kouri, what would've happened if I didn't pass the test, and what about the others? Did they pass too?" The questions skyrocketed out of Baldrik's mouth before he had any way of stopping himself, his questions simply dragging out into the void as he awaited a response. He reached over for his right arm with his left hand, and grazed against it calmly- before sighing deeply. Yup, that was his real arm...
"The others... Are safe. I needed to test your personal character, to know what you would do if presented with a terrible situation. To know what your qualities are like, when separated from the princess... Someone you admire, a little too strongly. Remember you took your own path to reach this place, your life is more than faith." Kiune's tone remains gentle and kind, almost to the point of mothering, as she continues to speak.
"You may ask from me one secret, and I will tell you should it be within my power to know."
Baldrik recoiled slightly when he heard her say it. To know a secret..? That would be very effective. He could ask just about anything, she was ancient, and he would without a doubt receive a good answer if he asked a solid question. But, he felt himself hesitate numerous times. What was his ancestors like? What was it with his Sword that allowed his ancestors to... enter his conciousness. What was she, and why did she help them? But, he didn't understand why. He couldn't ask her a question, he always hesitated to try. Perhaps it was fate. Sometimes, it's just better off not knowing. Secrets, are secrets, for good reasons. He shook his head to her and added onto the conversation: "I'm sorry, Kiune. But I am not interested in knowing secrets. It's better to leave it to fate to decide what happens to me, or what I will find out in due time."
There is momentary silence, followed by a hint of surprise in the tone of her reply. "Very well. Return then." Slowly, but surely, he could feel himself returning to his body.
Alexander
In a mere blink of his eyes, Alexander would find the weight of the enemy he was entangled with lifted away, vanishing into thin air. When his eyes opened, he would find the world he had once inhabited gone, and replaced with a complete void, darkness stretched in all directions. Alexander was himself again, and he could feel the anti-magic around him fighting the void itself, but losing at some fundamental level. Yet, there was the smallest hint of strain in Kiune's voice as she began to speak to him.
"You passed your test. Do you have any questions?"
Alexander inhaled sharply in a panicked reaction before his fighting instinct took over where it left off. But there was nothing left to fight. More accurately, there was nothing. His anti-magic protection burned like a bonfire in a useless attempt to keep at bay whatever was happening to him, and it made him feel very small. When Kiune's voice boomed through the nothingness Alexander fruitlessly tried to find the source of the sound before the meaning came through to him.
"Test?" He said. "Why did we need to be tested?"
"I had to know what you would do when presented with terrible suffering, and awful odds, Templar. The princess is a mage, and Rheinfeld will surely act against her. Others may know you well. I do not. So, I had to know, what kind of person you are... You did well." Kiune replies, with a hint of gentleness in spite of the strain.
"You may ask from me one secret, and I will tell you should it be within my power to know."
Alexander listened carefully and nodded. It didn't necessarily make sense to him, but experiencing for the second time how easily his magical resistance was defeated he felt glad he had been approved of. She didn't quite have the power the angel Typhon had previously displayed, but it was more than enough to destroy him just as easily. When she told him he could ask a question he even managed a grin. "Oh I know this question. There's no real right answer here, isn't there?" He said, thinking back of theology and philosophy lessons back in the orphanage and his officer's training. "If you insist however... What are your reasons for helping us? You are risking Typhon's retribution by doing so, and I assume you do not do this lightly, given these tests."
"I owe the princess' family my life. They harboured me when I was but a mortal, and the coven I was part of, from a hostile threat that waged war on them for doing so. I will give back to that family by doing this, but more importantly... The world needs the dream of Kingdom of Renalta to return. You have seen first hand the cruelties of this world, Templar... No life is worth living without this dream being realized, and now may be the only chance for it to be realized by its legitimate heir. One of the only people not afraid of challenging the Gods, damaged though she may be... Many wait for her. Change is in the air, life is about change, and so it is my duty to not only repay her family, but to ensure this world changes as it should... If the Kingdom returns, Rheinfeld will have to change. Something I am sure, appeals to you, should no longer serve with the Templar." Alexander could feel the abyss slowly fading away, he could feel himself returning back to his body, in the mortal realm. "Now, hush... I will return you to your mind."
Marcus
It didn't take long for Marcus to find himself awakening in darkness. He seemed rather unafraid of it, as he looked around, before hearing a voice from the darkness. Kiune's voice.
"You passed your test. Do you have any questions?"
Marcus raises an eyebrow, even though none were around to see it, and merely keeps himself silent. It seemed he had no questions, and after a few more moments of silence, Kiune speaks again with uncertainty.
"You may ask from me one secret, and I will tell you should it be within my power to know."
This time, Marcus was quick to reply. His tone cold, and yet, tinged with a bubbling hatred. "Where does The Abomination call his home?"
Kiune pauses, then replies quietly. "This is not a wise course of action. Your duty to the princess must come first, without her, whatever grudge you possess cannot be avenged... Many have tried. Many have failed. Myself included."
"Will you tell me, or not?"
"... He calls his home on a small island in the Blood Sea, which has a mountain rising from it. An uninhabitable, blackened piece of hard rock. Somewhere on that island he rests, often for years at a time, before striking out at the world. He is stronger there than anywhere else. Attacking it is suicide even for an army... Do not let this consume you."
Slowly, but surely, Marcus would find himself being returned to his body. A large, devilish smile was upon his lips. He didn't seem to care much for Kiune's warning.
Tahlia
Though perhaps the pain of the event had not yet ended, the entirety of the dream fell away beneath her weakened feat as Tahlia would find herself returned to her old body. Yet, she was not yet free it seemed, as she now hovered in an endless, black emptiness, that had consumed the entirety of the dream. She had almost appeared alone until a voice rang clearly to her. It was Kiune's voice.
"You passed your test. Do you have any questions?"
"How, how much of that was real? Did they… is he really dead?"
"No. Faolan is okay. None of it was real... Yet, it was. Another lifetime, another reality... Or maybe, just a dream... But, not your reality. I merely needed to know what you would do, if presented with the situation... If you would kill your allies to defend the beast, should he go feral." Kiune replies cryptically, yet softly.
"You may ask from me one secret, and I will tell you should it be within my power to know."
Tahlia hugged herself close in the darkness, trying to find comfort in her own physical form, at least. With no sign of Kiune presenting itself to her beyond the voice, she found herself instinctively reaching out with her magic in an attempt to sense the soul harnessing this power.
"There is no benefit to testing a limit if you plan to break it in the process." When she spoke, she did so with a voice even softer than Kiune's, as if suspecting that the druid had little need of her senses to communicate in this context. "It's clear you know what I want already. Tell me how to fix him, so that I don't have to choose between them."
Tahlia would find that the edges of the darkness seemed to resist her attempts to reach out with magic, but that there were, in fact, defined borders to the trap she found herself in. Then, she feels her magic being pushed away--not roughly, but gently, as though someone's arms were comfortingly pushing a child away from harm. "Do not try to penetrate this barrier. It is beyond you."
After a moment, she continues, and speaks to her, soothingly. "The thing you wish for is difficult, but there are a few different ways. You could transfer his soul to that of a golem, and though he would feel nothing, it would spare him from madness, though the existence would be hollow. You could retrieve him a new body, but you would need to steal it from someone else living. You could attempt to recreate his old form, but such magics are powerful, and come with a high price... Though you could avoid the price of a life for a life, so long as you do not lose his soul. Such magics, however, would strain even I to use. So you will first need to find artifacts--soul gems, or other batteries of power. Then, go to the Free Holds, and seek a merchant who will sell you tomes about the creation of life... Gain the assistance of a venerable healer or manipulator of life, and you could potentially create a body for Faolan, much like his old one, without having to take the life of something else. That path, however, takes the longest, and every day you wait, is another day that Faolan slips, just that little bit further. Be wary, be wise... This path leads many to dark things, young woman."
Before Tahlia could respond, she would feel herself being pulled back to her old body.
"Now, rest, and do not resist, and I will bring you back to the world from whence you were born... For where Faolan awaits you."
Kasienka
The heat around her, and the sounds of people's livelihoods vanishing away into smoke, gave way to a nameless ether. The terrible nightmare Kasienka had found herself in had vanished, as had any sign of the others around her. She was looking like herself again, the militia's body having given way to her own, original form. A familiar voice resounds clearly through the void of nothingness that Kasienka found herself in.
"You passed your test. Do you have any questions?" It was Kiune's voice.
She wasn't ready for it to be over. She had to save James! Kasienka wanted to run through the void to find her friends. She stopped when she heard Kiune, and had to stop from saying something unforgivable. "Where is James? What happened to him? Why did you do this to us?" Her voice rose with every question, and she spun to try and locate Kiune.
"James is safe." Kiune replies, simply. "I had to see what you were going to do about the situation before you. To test you for the coming journey, what your nature would compel of you. I did not doubt you would pass, but, it has been many years since we have last seen each other, and elves have fickle memories, changing personalities... I had to know, Kasienka. Not even for the sake of the princess, but merely because the journey she is going on is more important than even my own life."
"You may ask from me one secret, and I will tell you should it be within my power to know."
The good news settled her, and Kiune had her points on how elves changed over the years, but Kasienka still felt her feathers ruffled over the whole ordeal. The offer she received was nothing she could ever expect. Kasienka had to blink a few times just to try and get her thoughts straight. This offer was once in a lifetime, and could give her the answer she had been seeking her whole life (that she could remember). It was one question that she had thought and reworded in her mind for decades, maybe longer... "What is the cure to the plight of elven children?"
Though Kasienka wouldn't be able to see anything in the void, she could feel the sincere concern that Kiune was feeling. "I am not sure you really wish for that. There are only two ways to cure your people. The first is to use ancient magic which the Gods used to create life to mend their immune systems upon birth, though you would have to sacrifice a human life for every elf you would wish to cure. Tens of thousands would have to die across an entire generation to cure your people. Enough to entirely depopulate many towns." She pauses, as though struggling with her memory. "The other method is... Lost to time, somewhat. I do not remember it myself, but, I know it has something to do with the origins of the elves. All the elves--dark elves, Woadanow elves, and your people. The truth you seek likely belongs to the most ancient libraries and stories of all three. I do not know whether the consequences for the cure will be more to your liking or not. Beyond that, there is nothing more I can tell you."
With that said, Kasienka would feel a warmth rushing through her veins, as she is slowly brought back to her body in the mortal realm.
Sisera
As he ran from the smoke and fire, he would find that with a single blink, all the sensations vanished. Not a feeling altogether unfamiliar for him, though, as he would find himself thrown into a realm of pure darkness. Nothing could be seen, and he simply floated in nothingness. He was, however, looking like his old, scarred self again. Kiune's voice rings out from the darkness.
"You passed your test. Do you have any questions?"
"Is Kouri safe?" He asked calmly, hiding his anxiety and fear in regards for the woman. Throughout his entire journey with his group. That was truly the only thing on his mind, the only thing that ultimately mattered to him. The possible death of the others, as unlikely as it was in this illusion, was an afterthought.
There was a moment's hesitation before Sisera received his reply, and he could feel a look of growing concern, staring at him from all angles by eyes he could not see. "Yes. She is safe, and you... Did what was necessary." Her tone grew a little cold, as though she was uncertain.
"You may ask from me one secret, and I will tell you should it be within my power to know."
Sisera thought about this question, perhaps a lifetime passed in this world before he finally came up with an answer. An eternity of scrambled, thoughts only united behind the fact that they all belonged inside one brain. an infinite amount of conundrums, conflicts and contradictions before they all finally reached a consensus.
"What's the secret to killing an Arch-Angel?" asked Sisera plainly.
Kiune chuckles quietly, knowingly. For a moment, she seems ready to toy with him, but decides against it.
"Someone else has already asked that question... I will allow you to ask for a different secret."
Sisera frowned in annoyance before closing his eyes and thinking upon the question once more. His mind brought him to the memory of Kouri's family sword, and how it reacted the moment he touched it. How it began to heat up but then grow foggy and hazy, like it would disappear in his hand. Distant memories of when he was a child showed him reading books about famous mages; some of which could turn into smoke and reform without coming out horribly deformed (if they even came back at all). Though young Sisera's readings never promoted such magic, simply awed at the brazen workings of dare devils, fools and madmen who would even attempt such reckless displays of sagely power.
"What's the secret to turning oneself into smoke seamlessly, without destroying yourself?" Sisera asked eagerly.
"I can imbue you with the secret, but only practice will allow you to master such a thing." Kiune replies bluntly, as Sisera would feel suddenly illuminated with thoughts that were not his own. "You will have to learn your limitations yourself." She warns, gently.
He could feel himself being pulled back to the world, back to his body. It seemed that Kiune was done with her tests...
James
As James found himself pulled into the Abyss, he looked around, confusion and fear in his eyes as he struggled to find a way out, pushing with his magic. There was a hint of strain in Kiune's voice, but he would find his magic shoved back to him roughly. "Do not try such things! You are in an aspect of my mind, I will hurt you if I must."
James scoffs, and crosses his arms as he ceases pushing out.
"You passed your test. Do you have any questions?"
The Illusionist scratches at his chin, then rests his hands behind the back of his head with a sigh. "I suppose this was all some sort of test of my personality, and some such. I was right. You think a test is really effective when I was able to see through it so easily?"
"I didn't need the test to see through you, egotist. It is as clear as it gets that you are a prodigy of magic, born of Amanda's machinations."
"... How do you know such things?"
"Your purple eyes are one give away. The immense power you wield underneath that unstable surface of yours, it... Is actually enough to pressure me. I felt it when you pushed out. It was nothing to compare to my power, but enough that I could feel it. You have no control over it, however, so I cannot assume you a master of magic. Merely a tool. An invention... Why Amanda abandoned you, though, I do not know."
"... I suddenly dislike this conversation."
"Do not snark a demi-god then, young mage. I will, however, give you one thing. One gift, for passing your test, and proving you care enough not to betray your allies."
"And that is?"
"You may ask from me one secret, and I will tell you should it be within my power to know."
James opens his eyes widely, and grins from ear to ear. "Well... This I can..." He pauses, his grin fading a little. "... I could, wish to know the secret to unlocking this power, but... But there is something else I must know... Is Beatrice in pain? Did I... Did I make things worse for her?"
There is a few seconds pause, as Kiune seems to mull over the question. Perhaps she was checking for herself. Nonetheless, James received his answer quickly enough. "No. It is good work, quality work. She is not in pain, but, her form is decaying. Your magic alone will not be enough if you seek to spare her a painful death. You will need the proper instructions and magic to save her." James' typically manic eyes grow dim and heavy with an old weight, as he closes his eyes and curls up into a ball, quietly. He had nothing more to say, and Kiune, simply, quietly, brings him back to his body.
Cennick
The world, quickly, fades out from underneath Cennick as the others vanish from sight, suddenly and without rhyme or reason. He is left, floating in darkness, and as he looks over himself, he appears to be his old self, save for the uneasy feeling of floating in nothingness. He would hear a voice from the darkness, and would recognize it to be Kiune's voice.
"You passed your test. Do you have any questions?"
Cennick muttered something under his breath, not his usual slew of profanity, but something unkind none-the-less. He was tempted just to say nothing and contentedly float in oblivion until the end of time, but curiosity soon overwhelmed his obstinacy. "Perhaps you can start with what my test even was? Being Kind? Being reasonable? Not slapping the wizard silly every time he opened his big mouth?"
"It was to see what you would do. You had to hold back every urge to run to the Princess' side the moment you realized she was in pain. You are far more heroic than you might let on, Cennick Greenborough. You should not shirk such feelings."
A few moments follow, before she asks one further question.
"You may ask from me one secret, and I will tell you should it be within my power to know."
A slew of questions entered the duelist's mind, a few personal, a few philosophical. Ultimately one stood out from the rest, "How can I kill Typhon?"
"Ah." Kiune chuckles, but continues. "Take a weapon blessed with magic and bless it with the blood of an angel to make wounds that he cannot heal. That, or impale him through the heart, or decapitate him, though you will need a magical weapon to do so. The more powerful it is, the more likely it is to succeed." The darkness starts to lift away from Cennick, as he returns to his own body.
Samuel
As Samuel watched the snowball fly halfway toward its target, it vanishes suddenly, as does the rest of the world. The people around him fall away, and he's left floating alone in darkness. A familiar darkness, one in which he appeared to be his old self again. A voice rings out, disembodied, with no sign of where it came from or where it was going. It was Kiune's voice, that much he recognized.
"You passed your test. Do you have any questions?"
"Couldn't you have let the snowball hit?" He said with a wry chuckle, "I would ask as to the necessity of such a cruel test, but I saw that spurned angel, it may be the least of the trials we must face. So be it."
"It was a test of your personality. A test of what you would do, when confronted with someone else's suffering and fears." Kiune replied, simply and honestly. "You saw her suffering, and though your answer proved unorthodox, it was acceptable. You showed compassion. You could have run, but you did not. She will have many demons yet to fight in her journey, both within and out there... It is good to know what you will do. Now, I know. More importantly, you know."
"You may ask from me one secret, and I will tell you should it be within my power to know."
Samuel considered the question very seriously. "How can I bind a reflection as a summon, as Kouri's darker side was, I would desire to turn my enemies own fears against them made manifest." He asked hoping it would be enough, "And if that is beyond you, the location of the Tome of the First Summoner."
"I would not recommend binding pure fear. It cannot be controlled." Kiune warned, though she continued nonetheless. "Bind someone and induce terrors, then sap the terror from them into a soul gem. The closer they are to death, the stronger the terror will be. It will be formless, and it will communicate only to feed on you and anyone else it can gain power from."
With that question answered, Samuel would feel himself returning to his body. Slowly, but surely.
Hanus
It was a familiar feeling for Hanus, to end up in the dark void that he was surrounded by. To see nothing but himself again, his ebony skin and dark clothes. A small smile manages to grace his lips as he heard the slight hint of guilt in Kiune's tone.
"You passed your test. Do you have any questions?"
Hanus shakes his head. "You risked my deepest fears and secrets to children who would not understand... To Kasienka."
"Would it have been so terrible for Kasienka to learn?"
The vampire merely closes his eyes, unmoving, floating in the abyss.
"Hmph. Stubborn and private, as always... Yet, I will give you the same I gave everyone else. One secret, should it be within my power to know."
He continues to float in silence, for another minute or so, in contemplation of what to ask. "I know what Kasienka will ask, so to ask on her behalf would be foolishly sentimental... She's too compassionate not to ask about her people, so I will ask about mine. How might I bring them a cure to The Madness, without leaving them immortal?"
"A strange question. Wouldn't you want your people to dominate the world?"
"If I answer, will you give me my answer?"
"I will give it to you either way."
"... No. Not any longer."
"Then your secret lies in the bloodlines of the ancient dead, in the oldest myths of your people, and of the other elves. Beyond that, I know not how to repair your people without preserving their immortality... But, you already know how to do that, don't you?"
"..."
"Oh, you mean you didn't know it would work? Then for your sake, I will tell you. It does... Sometimes. Other times, Madness takes them... It will be the greatest pain of your life."
"That was two secrets."
"I... Care about you, still. I thought you should know."
"Thank you, Kiune, but you know I will move on. It would never work. You're too far beyond, and we both know, in the autumn of your life."
"As do you believe you are in yours."
"After meeting a couple of certain people, I... Don't know anymore. I don't know much anymore. Now, let me go back. I long to see that red hair again... And those wonderful eyes."
"As you wish."
Kouri
Weakness overtakes her as Kouri as she closes her eyes falls toward the snow, only to never feel the impact. A few moments pass, and she opens her eyes, her hands were healed, and her body felt rightfully hers once more. She was left, in the void, floating alone, the others nowhere in sight. Then, she heard avoid through the darkness: Kiune.
"You passed your test. Do you have any questions?"
Kouri looks around the area, trying to discern where she was. Small pieces here and there seemed to be more than they appeared, but she couldn't break through the veil.
"Don't try to beat me at magic. Though you have a natural talent, it does not match up to centuries of study. If I wished for you to know, I would tell you."
Taking the hint, she ceases struggling and looks out, toward the empty abyss. "Where am I? Is Cennick, Samuel, Hanus--are they okay? Are the others... Is everyone okay? Why did you do this to me?... Why do show this... All this pain..."
"As compassionate and curious as you ever were. You were in the ethereal realm, and now you are within a projection of space my mind has created--something too complicated for me to describe to you. Cennick, Samuel, and Hanus are safe, as are the others... I merely had to test them, as I had to test you. I never meant to harm you, princess. I simply had to see what you would do, and show you that others do care about you, in an environment where it was safe for you to fail, but where you never knew that it was."
Kouri looks at her hands, curling them a couple times to ensure they were, in fact, unharmed.
"You may ask from me one secret, and I will tell you should it be within my power to know."
Though there was momentary hesitation, she takes a deep breath, and closes her eyes before focusing on her question.
"You seem to know far more about me than I do you... But... I need to focus on my journey. How do I get beyond the barrier, to the northern temple?"
"I am afraid I do not know how, princess. You will have to earn the favour of the locals and ask them."
"In the Free Holds?"
"Yes."
"That is... A distressing thought. Winning the favour of slavers."
"Indeed it is, princess."
"Fine, I will ask you a different question then. Who are you? That is, who are you really? How do you know me so well? Why do you care?"
There was a few moments pause, as Kiune seemed to consider whether or not to answer the question. Yet, though her tone was apprehensive, she answered nonetheless. "Your family ruled over me once. Your parents, more specifically. I was part of a coven of druids then. Your family had offered us shelter against the Kingdom of Gault's war bands, who wanted to scalp us alive. We were allowed to stay as long as we wanted. Even when Gault threatened to destroy the Kingdom for harbouring us, your parents refused. They fought a war. There was only a couple of battles... But one major engagement between your father and the King of Gault ended the war when your father spared his life. In a single battle, your father did more for peace, than a hundred diplomats over a hundred years. Had your kingdom been allowed to go on, young princess, and it may have spared the world many painful atrocities it lives with now as daily occurrences.
In truth, Princess, I owe you my life. I owe your family my life. And though I was not yet anywhere near this powerful when the Gods smote them, I believe, in my own way, this is how I shall repay your father's compassion... To ensure his daughter succeeds, by giving her everything I am reasonably allowed, which can reasonably help you."
Kouri keeps her eyes closed, though it doesn't stop a single tear from escaping her eyes. "I'm sorry I took them from you."
"You did no such thing, princess. A man like Typhon is never satisfied. He will consume and rape and destroy, on and on and on, until there is nothing left. It is all he knows to do, don't think yourself a unique victim of his, just... The most famous. Now, I shall let you return to the world. I wish you luck, young princess, you will need it."
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The Animals of Slumber
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As the group awakens, they could hear the sounds of combat outside their rooms. Though most were still dizzy, Mikan and James are the first to scramble out of their rooms to see what was going on out in the hallway connecting all of their bedrooms.
Faolan and Beatrice were attacking the young looking Kiune, but kept being bounced back, as the wind itself moved to her aid. It must have only been going on for the past minute or so, as both still looked fresh enough to try and coordinate their attacks at different angles, only to be bounced away harmlessly each and every time.
Kiune herself floated half a foot off the floor, her arms were outstretched to each side. There was a slight, purple-hued glow to her body, and as she opened her eyes, the hues faded. James merely looks at Beatrice, and she ceases with her attacks and flies back to his shoulder. Faolan stops as well, but remains growling, infuriated. Mikan watches from the doorway of her bedroom, being careful, and in a way, still recovering from her dream. Slumped on the wall in front of Kiune was Hanus, who was completely unmoving.
"You know, if I had things my way, I would have told Beatrice to rip out your eyes." James threatens, a barely contained hatred in his eyes, his shoulders tense with distrust. "I am aware." Kiune replies gently. James, slowly, starts to calm, though a great deal of fury was still in his eyes. "You invaded my mind... Showed the others what you said about me. What you knew... It could ruin me." The druid's young form merely shrugs, as she motions toward the stairs, her feet touching the ground as the immense power she was using came to a close. "I know much more than that, prodigy. You are lucky I tolerate you as is."
"Enough, Kiune." Hanus says, as he rises off of the floor silently. Mikan shudders at the unnatural sight, but as Hanus began to breath and act more like a normal person again, the hints of disgust faded. "Your apparent intolerance for privacy is and always has been your greatest flaw... But for once, I understand why you did it. Just don't do it again." Kiune's gentle look falters a little. "Don't worry. I won't."
Kouri steps out from her room, still looking a little dizzy as she grabs onto the wall, but looking around the hallway nonetheless. She speaks, quietly. "Is everyone okay?..."
Marcus steps out of his room, and simply says nothing, as he seemed deep in contemplation over his next set of moves. He also kept his distance from Kiune, looking distrustful of the druid.
