The Seals of Valinar

DarinValore

129% of people exaggerate.
Original poster
FOLKLORE MEMBER
Posting Speed
  1. 1-3 posts per week
  2. One post per week
Writing Levels
  1. Adept
  2. Advanced
Preferred Character Gender
  1. Male
Darkness cascaded across the sky in sweeping shades of pearl grey and purple, as the rain storm from the evening blew into the western mountain ridge and a wintry chill filled the air. With the splash of another frigid puddle, Delphinia sneaked through the city gates, her heart racing. Her pursuers came fast, the sound of hooves s hard on the cobbled pathway. Her hood collapsed behind her and ebony curls fanned out, as she picked up speed, cold pelting her cheeks until they stung, her chest burning from exertion.

Suddenly, another ride swung from her right and crossed in front of her, and a cry erupted as she fell backward, landing hard. The horse reared, with a shriek, then settled, and their rider dropped down, smooth black boots hitting the ground with a thud.

“I really wish you hadn't made us chase you so far, Delphi. So much time wasted, Little miss… And the journey back will be quite cold.”

“I'm not going back!” She replied with eyes narrowed, “I have seen into his mind and I will not be his victory!”

Stepping closer, the man dipped down beside her, his dark eyes skimming over her, “You are… so important, Delphinia. You've no idea what he'll do to ensure your return.”

As he reached for her arm, Delphi lashed out with a balled fist and caught the man in the jaw. Pulling back with a roar, he struck out, the back of his hand smacking hard against her cheek. Delphi sprawled left with another cry, tears springing to her eyes, blood seeping from a split in her lip.

“He demands your return. He made no claims of importance as to your level of safety. If you do something stupid like that again, you'll regret it, greatly.” His fingers curled roughly around her arm and he yanked her to her feet, “Now, move.”

Their destination was an inn, and as they entered and the bell overhead announced their arrival, the man led Delphi along to the counter, shoving her into a seat while he approached the owner.

“I need a room. Private. No cleaning. No meals. No whores. No one interrupts. Am I clear?” As he slapped a handful of coins on the counter, Delphi bolted and the man spun, grabbing a fistful of her hair. He yanked and Delphi yelped, dropping down into the chair again. The innkeeper looked from the man to the coins, and an edge of trepidation came to his eyes, but he nodded, turning to find a key on the wall.

There had been laughter and a merry attitude that went with the mug he gripped between his hands on the table. There had been jokes and retellings of war stories, but the moment the woman at the counter tried to leave and was jerked back harshly by her hair was the moment Terrick pushed all of that aside in the name of a concerned curiosity.

“Terrick?” asked the man next to him. When he saw that Terrick was distracted, he followed Terrick’s gaze and quickly reached out, placing a hand on Terrick’s arm, “That ain’t none of your business, Terrick.”

He watched on, his eyelids narrowing for a moment as he contemplated arising from his chair, “I suppose it’s not, Gentry,” he glanced toward his companion and smirked before taking a swig of his drink. When he placed it on the table, he stood from his seat against the silent pleas of his friend.

“Terrick,” Gentry breathed as he watched the Knight walk toward the counter, “Gods,” he shook his head and went back to his drink, his eyes never leaving Terrick for long.

Meanwhile, Terrick approached the company at the counter, his wrist resting on the pommel of his blade, “Don’t think I’ve ever seen you lot around here?” He spoke to the group, but his eyes studied the small woman before him, “Pallos giving you a hard time with your rooms?”

The man twisted at the voice, dark eyes narrowing. He glanced briefly to Delphi, a brow raised, before returning his gaze to the knight, “We're quite settled, thank you.” He answered coolly, “Delphinia… let's go.” Came a bark, as he reached for her arm.

“Woah,” he started with a smile, “What’s the rush?” he turned his attention to Pallos, “Think we could have a round of drinks?” Turning his attention back to them, “Stay and chat a bit, would you?”

Frowning, the man lowered his arm and something flashed across his face. At the same moment, Delphi breathed in, and there was no mistaking the note of relief in her eyes.

“Thanks all the same.” He muttered, “But I'm in rather a hurry. You enjoy your drink, though. Delphi. Now.”

Rising, she let the breath escape, nodded, “Thank you, anyway.”

“You will keep your tongue behind your lips, if you please. Let's go.”

“She was just saying ‘thank you’,” Terrick shifted, “same as you,” he sighed, taking note to the split in her lip, he nodded slightly, “But maybe next time?” He decided to not push in hopes of not making it worse for the young woman.

Taking the key, the man gripped Delphi by the arm again and shoved her less than gingerly, to the stairs, his voice a hiss, “If I have to tell you one more time to do as I say, Delphinia, I will make sure you know the meaning of pain. Am I understood?”

“Of course.” Delphi muttered, “I would never dream of it, Lord Vadrigan…” He turned as the door opened and in that moment, Delphi dared to look back at the knight, desperate hope in her eyes.

It took all his strength to restrain himself in that moment. His fingers white-knuckled atop the pommel, and he bit the inside of his cheek to keep from speaking. Even as she turned to look back at him, he could see her silent plea for help in her eyes. Terrick had to tears his eyes away to keep himself from doing something stupid. He had heard her correctly. She had called the man a ‘Lord’, and for him to raise a hand against a Lord was a dishonorable thing to say the least.

However, even after returning to his friends and allowing time to pass, Terrick could do little more than see those eyes and that split lip over and over in his mind. What else was the man doing to her if he was willing to treat her with such disdain in front of all these witnesses? Unable to take it anymore, Terrick arose from his chair and approached the counter once more. After convincing Pallos to tell him the room number, he started up stairs, this time his fingers wrapped around the hilt ready to be drawn should the need arise.

Knocking on the door, he rolled his shoulders and head to loosen up before putting on his drunken act, “Who locked my door?” he called out.

There was a sound within the room, a growl of irritation, and after some fumbling, the door was yanked open, “I distinctly said no interruptions! If you can't-- You?? What is this??”

“Heey!” Terrick wore a grin too wide for anyone sober, “What are you doing in my room?” He tried to push his way through the doorway.

A hand shot out, blocking Terrick, his eyes narrowing, “Wrong room, you drunk idiot. Perhaps next time you should consider a measure of limitation, hm? Disgraceful.”

In an instant, Terrick’s expression sobered as he leaned in placing his foot beside the door so he could not close it, “What is disgraceful, ‘Lord’, is the way you’re treating that young woman,” he glanced passed the man in hopes of finding Delphinia.

Delphinia sat in a straight backed chair, her arms tied behind her, her head slumped, hair falling in a curtain around her. Growling, the man reached for his side, yanking free a small metal blade, “This is not your concern! And if you value your life, you will walk away!”

“I cannot,” he answered, “No Lord should treat a woman as you have been treating this one. You will release her to me,” Terrick straightened, his free hand ready to catch the man’s attack should it come.

“Release her to you?” A laugh escaped, and the man shook his head, “You've no idea the circumstances you've found yourself in. You want her? Come take her.”

Terrick studied the man a moment. He was at a disadvantage, choosing his sheathed sword instead of the dagger at his side while his opponent already had a knife drawn. Releasing his sword, he raised his hand in faux surrender. Taking a step back as though he were leaving, he, instead, used that foot to launch himself into the man before him, one hand immediately reaching for the wrist to gain control of the blade.

The feint worked, to some degree, and the lord assumed, arrogantly enough, that he'd warded off the advance. When the knight lunged, Vadrigan swore and stumbled back, but as the fingers curled around his wrist, he fought, growling.

Using his momentum, Terrick drove the man into the room with his shoulder, allowing the door to shut behind them. With control over the knife, he took a step back, balled up a fist, and struck at the man’s face.

Vadrigan swung his arm back up to try and block, and the fist grazed his cheek, his elbow twisting, aiming to free his wrist and the knife, “You have no idea what you're meddling in, you fool! Let go!”

Terrick grunted as he tried to follow the flow of the elbow. Stepping in, he placed his foot behind Vadrigan’s and tried to push him to the floor, “Let go of the knife!” he ordered.

“Not until it's buried in your chest!” He shoved against the pressure, fingers curling tighter around the hilt, eyes narrowed.

“Fine,” Terrick growled and allowed Vadrigan to raise the knife up. Twisting, he stepped under the elbow and brought it down hard upon his shoulder.

A growl echoed from Vadrigan, whose fingers uncurled from the blade, the metal clattering to the floor.

Kicking the dagger away, Terrick drove his elbow toward Vadrigan’s abdomen and released his arm, “I just want the woman. We don’t need to do this,” he tried to reason.

Stumbling back again, Vadrigan's eyes flashed as he looked from the knight to Delphinia, and bending, he reached down into his boot, grabbing a second, smaller blade. Straightening, he hurled it at the knight.

Terrick should have expected it. The man had no honor in how he treated the woman. The knife soared through the air, and despite his best efforts to dodge it, it sliced into his shoulder. He could feel the blood sliding down his arm. With a growl, he drew his own dagger and started after Vadrigan.

“This won't end well for you, boy! You've no idea what you've stumbled into!” As Terrick lunged, he ducked and staggered for his own knife, where it had slid across the floor, “The world is about to change and that girl is all a part of it.” Rising, he held the knife out, ready, “If you insist on drawing this out… let's go.”

Looking beyond the man toward the door, he shook his head, “I’m taking her out that door, and I won’t let you stop me,” Terrick side-stepped, flipped the dagger so that the blade pointed down, and sliced up hoping to catch Vadrigan’s arm with it.

As Terrick slashed upwards, Vadrigan propelled forward, he own blade held upright. Rage reflected in his eyes, a blind, primal rage.

Terrick’s eyes widened. Vadrigan had thrown strategy to the wind as sure as he had thrown himself at Terrick. Dropping his own dagger, Terrick side-stepped, snatched Vadrigan by the wrist and then slid an arm to the inside of Vadrigan’s elbow. Using the man’s own momentum, he drove Vadrigan’s on blade back and into his chest with a sickening thud. To ensure death, Terrick pressed hard, driving it deeper before dropping Vadrigan to the floor.

Taking a step back, he looked down at the lifeless body of a Lord of Grendania, the nation he was sworn to. He had just signed his own death warrant by killing this man. Picking up his own dagger, he stumbled over to Delphinia and knelt before her. Pushing her hair from her face, he gently tapped her cheeks hoping to stir her.

Like ice water poured overhead, Delphinia gasped and straightened in the chair, wide blue eyes searching wildly for a moment, before falling first to the still form of Vadrigan, facedown in a growing pool of red, then Terrick, gaze filling with emotion as she fought against her bonds, “Is he…?”

Following her gaze, Terrick nodded, “He is,” a certain disheartened tone in his voice. Circling around, he cut her loose with his dagger and then stood, returning it to its home on his hip, “Can you stand?”

Somewhat shakily, Delphi rose, staring at Vadrigan now with unmoving eyes, “Thank you.” Breathing out, she turned to Terrick, “You saved my life.”

And lost my own…, he thought.

“Not if we don’t get out of here. Take only what you need,” he moved to the door and peeled it open to look into the hall.

Nodding, sparing no thought to hesitation, not daring to question his suggestion, “Vadrigan and his servant have horses, stabled outside. His man is one room down, to the left.”

Sighing, Terrick nodded, “Then we go see him first. The last thing we need is for him to be after us. I will tend to him. You will follow me in and ensure the door is closed. Understood?”

Breathing in, she nodded again. It wasn't what her heart wanted… For him to put himself at greater risk, but he was right. They could not risk being followed. She… could not, “I understand, Sire.”

Terrick led the way into the hallway and drew his sword. After knocking on the door, and as soon as it was opened, Terrick drove his blade through the man’s stomach. Covering the man’s mouth he pushed him inside and drove him to the floor.

Standing, he waited for Delphinia to enter, “Take anything he might have that we need then lead the way to the horses.”

She had been unconscious when Vadrigan had met his sticky end… yet the grisly nature of his fate had met her when she woke, driving a spike of uneasiness into her chest. Seeing his servant meet a similar fate… Actually seeing it was something else. She froze, and the color fled from her cheeks as she stared at the figure on the floor.

Pulling his blade free, he turned and frowned, “We do not have time for this, m’lady. Take what is needed and lead the way please,” he spoke with urgency.

Blinking, she forced her eyes up and with a nod, moved to search through the saddle bag lying beside the chest of drawers. The content inside proved useful enough that she opted to grab the whole thing, slinging it over her shoulder, “Their horses will be inside the stable… he paid for two stalls.”

“Good, that means there will be a horse for the both of us. We’ll grab the horses and the I must gather my things,” he dropped his head, a sad air about him, “I’ll not be safe here either.”

“I… I'm sorry.” She breathed out, turning back to him. Her eyes flickered to the dead man again, then back up to the knight, “I never meant…” but she had, hadn't she? She knew what she was doing… “I owe you a great deal, Sir Knight.”

With a nod, he returned, “We can worry about that later when we are safe,” he gestured toward the door, “Lead the way.”

Heading for the door again, she lead Terrick from the room, and to the stairs. The inn had quieted as night fell in the city, and at the bottom of the stairwell, she gestured to the small hall that would lead to the servant's exit and out into the stables.

“Follow me to my home. I will grab what I need and then we ride as far away from here as possible,” Terrick offered a hand to Delphinia to aid her in mounting before he jumped up onto his. Spurring it on, he headed toward the west and away from the inn.

Terrick didn’t say much on the way to his home. Everything that had happened played over and over in his mind and his shoulder began to bug him. He’d have to wrap it before he gathered his thing. Tying the horse off just outside his house, he quickly slid off and headed inside. Just as he had planned, he headed for the linens in order to wrap his arm. However, it was harder than he had hoped, “Delphinia is it? Could you give me a hand?”

She hadn't said much during their ride, either, but for a quiet thanks as he helped her onto the horse. It had been some time since she'd gone anywhere but on foot, yet she rode with grace and assurity, remembering well how she was taught.

As they arrived, she lingered, watchful, while he gathered his things and only when he called for her did she leave her place by the door, “Delphi… please. Delphinia draws far too much attention. How can I help?”

“I can wrap these around my arm, but because the cut is so far up, it’s difficult for me to tie it off. Would you mind?” He held out the wraps, “Tie it tightly, please. The pressure will keep it from bleeding.”

Nodding, she took the wraps, “You'll have to talk me through it. I've never…” Shaking her head, she unraveled the bandage, “You never told me your name…”

“You just wrap it around,” he made the motion with his other hand, “then tie it really tightly with the knot over the wound,” he paused and watched as she began, “Terrick. My name is Terrick.”

Uncertainty washed over her, but carefully, Delphi began to wrap the wound, her eyes watching her work, “I am in your debt, Terrick.”

“I do not regret what I did,” he lifted his arm to allow more room for her to wrap, “I just hope I did not throw my life away for nothing. I will be a wanted man in Grendania now, as I am in Bycrest.”

Her eyes shifted to his and blinking, she paused, “I know that this might be difficult to believe… but you may very well have saved the world, Terrick.” Resuming her work, she turned her gaze to his shoulder, “But it isn't safe… with me. When we've gone far enough, you should take the horses… Sell them and buy purchase on a ship. Get as far from these lands as you can.”

He studied her as he mulled over her words, “Nowhere in Valinar is safe for me, and I’m not one for the seaman’s life. No, I shall stay with you, especially if what you say is true. You could use a sword. Just so happens I am a sword without a Lord.”

Smiling delicately, without meeting his eyes, she tied off the bandages tightly, “Then how about a Lady? You’re right when you say, I could use the aid… And I will see to it you are well compensated, Sire. I haven’t much, I left in a hurry, but you may have what’s in Vadrigan’s purse, and I’ve some jewels I can barter…”

“Save your coin for now. We’ll need it simply to survive,” he paused to check her work, and when he was satisfied, he started towards his room and started gathering his armor, “Did you say you were a Lady? Forgive me, but you are not dressed as one,” he called out to her.

Hesitating for a moment, Delphi considered her next words carefully before she spoke, “...My name, Terrick… is Delphinia Allora Aramaes… Princess of Anglion, beyond the Wall.” Looking down, brushing straw from her skirts, she breathed out, “I borrow them… the clothes. From one of my serving girls. Only her shoes were too big. My boots. They’re how Vadrigan recognized me.”

Terrick stuck his head out of his room with a furrowed brow, “Anglion? Beyond the wall?” His head disappeared and he reappeared with a bag filled with his belongings, “The only walls I know are the ones that surround the cities. I know all of those cities even the ones in the neighboring kingdoms. I have never heard of Anglion.”

“...How far have you gone, to the edge of Grendania, Terrick?” She asked, fiddling with a string on the edge of her cloak, “West… towards the cliff?”

“Aye,” he nodded, “I’ve travelled all of Grendania. It was part of the training my parents put me through. I know the land like the back of my hand.”

“And you’ve never wondered? What lies beyond the cliff? If you were to ascend..?”

“It has crossed my mind, but the cliff is impassible. No one can survive the journey up it.”

“...Because it is designed that way, good sir. But impassible? No…” Breathing out, she leaned back against the door frame, looking over her shoulder out the door they had come in through, “I come from the other side. From a world you can only imagine in your darkest of dreams.” Curving her arms across her chest, she shivered, “There, my brother is king… Driven mad by power. He… he seeks to destroy the Wall between our worlds, and bring Anglion’s wrath upon all of Valinar.”

Terrick blinked a moment, uncertainty evident in his body language, “Let’s just say I believe you, and I’m not sure I do, but let’s pretend I do. Have you taken news of this threat to the King?”

“I cannot…” Pushing from the door post, she looked to him, “My brother… if he finds me, if I am discovered, and taken back to Anglion… he will kill me. I… I have seen…” Pausing, she trailed off and wariness stole over her, “Vadrigan intended to return me. When you arrived to his room, he was sending a message to my brother. Going to your king… it will only draw attention to my presence here.”

Silently, he walked passed her and tied his bag to his horse. The clanking of the plate inside gave away its contents. He was deep in thought as he considered her words, “I could not go to the King at this moment either. I killed a Lord to save a woman that I am uncertain is even in her right mind. But it seems I must trust you, because my life is in your hands and yours, it seems, is in mine. I have many more questions, but I cannot ask them now. We really must be going. Putting a whole night’s distance between us and our soon-to-be pursuers would be quite advantageous.”

Heading for her own horse, Delphi ran her hand along its mane, frowning in thought, “It would be a great risk… but I could ride with you to your king. I could explain to him the nature of your attack on Vadrigan. Surely he would have to see reason if you were seen to be coming to my defense?”

Shaking his head, Terrick checked the bag to ensure it was rightly tide off before moving to Delphi’s horse, “The King expects unquestioned loyalty. He would hear your tale and think me a mad man to bring you in to try and convince him it was in defense of your honor. In his eyes, I should have left Vadrigan to do as he saw fit. I would be made an example for others to avoid. No, we do not go to the King. We run and pray that all of Grendania does not fall upon us because there is no where else to hide.”

Frowning, she shook her head, “There is no grace left in the world among those who rule it. What makes you any less significant than a Lord? A despicable, cowardly Lord. I will find a way to fix this, Terrick.” Apprehensively, her hand covered his forearm, “You've my word. I will not allow your nobility to go unseen, nor allow this injustice to stand.” Turning to the horse, she gripped the reins, “We'll journey west. To the crossroads before the wall. We may not be so hopeless, yet.”

Terrick shook his head as a chuckle escaped, “Unless you know something that I do not, this situations is all but hopeless. You are in the escort of a man who’s murdered a lord and has killed men from Bycrest. There is no where we can go where there will be hope. Not for me,” he took the reins and steered it to the west, “But if you want to go West. We’ll go west. Just don’t expect to find hope there.”

“There is always hope, Terrick. Even in the darkest places, light can shine. And as long as my brother stands on the other side of that wall, not all is lost. Would you?” She added, gesturing to her horse.

“Yes,” he nodded. Locking his fingers, he lowered so that she could use his hands as a step, “Hurry, my Lady.”
Stepping onto the knitted hands, Delphi raised herself up onto the horse and swinging her legs round, gripped the reins, “...Ready.”




Three weeks passed in back roads and beneath bridges, in long, frigid nights and cold, rainy days. As they traveled, Delphinia keyed Terrick into life beyond the cliff, and while she couldn’t determine whether the man believed her entirely or not, she was nevertheless grateful for his presence. His company had proven to be a great comfort, particularly on the hard, sleepless evenings, when terrible dreams haunted her and robbed her of rest.

Whiteridge was but a few miles out when with a spark of lightning scored the sky in two. Overhead, a rumble of thunder was heard, and softly, Delphinia’s whispered, “No…

No rain fell, for nearly no clouds darkened the crisp blue of the sky. It wasn’t a storm that threatened the crossroad village in the mouth of the river… but something else, entirely. Something so much worse.

Looking to Terrick, fear caught in her gaze, Delphi shook her head, “...They’ve broken another one… Another seal. We must hurry! There’s no telling what they’ve unleashed...”

“How can you be so certain?” he asked while he gripped at his reins with a gauntleted hand ready to spur the horse at a moment’s notice. The lightning had reflected off of his battle-tested plate, “How do you know it was another seal?”

Tears stung her eyes, and her hands trembled as she tightened her grip on the reins, gaze skyward, “...Because I have seen this before. A storm with no rain… Soon, the sky will darken, and it will come. The trial. From the seal…”

Terrick racked his brain recalling the lesson the trials that the Lady Delphinia had given him during one of their many chats. None of them were anything that he hoped to ever face, “Is..Is there a way to know which seal is broken before hand? So we know what must be done.”

“...The first seal, in Anglion… I had crossed through the rift, before I could see what the consequences were. Any one of them would bring devastation to the nearest villages… even beyond. We won’t know until--” A second growl resonated from the sky, but this was not thunder… and paling, Delphi nearly sank from her mount, “By the gods… what have they done…”

The second sound was like nothing Terrick had ever heard even on his hunting expeditions with other noblemen. Tearing his eyes from the sky, he looked to Lady Delphinia just as she slipped from her mount, Shifting on his own, he reached down and slid an arm securely around her, “I’ve got you,” he reassured her as he tried to help her straighten on her horse, “What was that?”

Her hands looping tightly around his arm, she shuddered as her eyes remained fixed skyward, shaking her head, “...He will doom us all.” Turning back, she looked to Terrick, “The Summoning Seal has fallen.”

Straightening, releasing his arm, she swung her leg around to slip from the mount, landing harder than she meant to, but with purpose, “The horses… We need to leave them. It will come straight for them… If we’re fast, it might not see us.”

“Leave the horses? If we’re fast? We won’t be faster on foot than we would be on horseback,” he couldn’t see the reasoning, but if everything Delphinia had told him was true, he had no reason to not trust her word. Sliding from the mount, he took a knife to the strap that held what was left of his gear not wanting to waste time untying it, “You sure we need to leave the horses?”

“If we don’t, it will only find us fast.” Looking up again, she frowned, “Do… do you have legends, Terrick? Stories your parents told you, as children? Of creatures… dangerous creatures…?”

With confusion on his face, he looked to her, “Yes, of course we have legends and tales our parents told us simply to keep us in line. What does that have to do with this?” he adjusted the back on his shoulder and rested his hand upon his sword should he need it.

“...In Anglion, Terrick, they’re real.” Pulling her eyes from the sky, she looked to him again, shaking her head, “And that is what he has unleashed in this world. That is what’s up there. It will come for anything it can see… anything it can reach. We have to move as quickly as we can.”

Sensing the urgency in her tone, Terrick drew his sword with a ring that filled the air around them, “What are we talking about?” he turned his eyes skyward, “Whatever it is, I shall cut it down before it can cause you any harm, My Lady.”

“From the sound of it… a dragon. Please…” Reaching, she clutched his arm, eyes pleading, “We cannot fight it. Not alone. We cannot hope to. It is stronger than ten men… with skin like iron. Please… We must go.”

“A d-dragon?” Terrick’s mind went to rows of sharp teeth as big as his head and fire hot enough to melt steel pouring from its maw, “Let’s go,” he nodded, now understanding why they were to leave the horses behind. They were a larger, more appealing snack, “Run, Lady Delphi, Run!” He gestured toward Whiteridge.

Delphi did not need to be told twice. Fear roiled through her, and her feet moved almost before the words had left his lips. There was still a great deal of distance between their location and Whiteridge, and it seemed only to grow as a third growl split the air above them, a shrieking howl, that pieced to the core of her. Her eyes moved upwards, a black streak cutting across her vision, “It’s heading for the village!”

Reaching out, Terrick tried to grab her by the arm before stopping suddenly, “Then we are not.”

Without warning, his hand caught her arm and Delphi jolted to a stop, spinning around to face him. For a moment, confusion wracked her features, before determination stole over them, “This is my brother’s doing… That thing will destroy that village and anyone in it! And they won’t even know it’s coming. We have to warn them!”

“We would never make it, Lady,” he argued, “it’s larger, and faster than we could ever be...even on horseback!”

Eyes roving up to the skies, filling with desperate tears, Delphi shook her head, “There must be something we can do… We have to try...”

He shook his head, “The only thing we will need to try to do is help them pick up the pieces afterward before returning to our hunt to save the other seals. We will not be able to do that if we die to this one,” he paused, “I know it hurts..the prospect of just how many lives are about to be lost, but ours will not be counted among them.”

Her head dropped, her breath a shudder as she closed her eyes against the onslaught of emotion, “...This is all my fault. I… I should have seen it, I should have known. All those people…”

“No,” he said with surety, releasing his grip on Delphi’s arm, “This is not your fault, Lady Delphi. Far be it from your mind to blame yourself for your brother’s sins,” another roar tore through the sky, causing Terrick to look toward Whiteridge. He could hear the faint ring of the warning bell, “All of these deaths will be on him, and him alone.”

Eyes opening, they turned to the village, “...We have to stop him.” The peal of the bell rose into the hills and breathing in again, she tightened her jaw, hands balled into fists, “We will stop him.”

wwLghJv.gif
 
Pyche "Psyco" Laradda | Location: Whiteridge | Interactions: Sheer Vaashill, Villagers


The winter air proved useful. Practical. A sharp chill grazed the exposed skin of her cheeks, ghostly pale. Paler than usual. It was all because of the cold and for that, she was as grateful as she could be.


Pyche had only found residence in Whiteridge for three days and yet the atmosphere of this place annoyed her already. But, emotions didn’t matter. They never did, not when she had a head to chop from its shoulders. What good would sentiments do for her in this life? None.

She was off topic. The chill. The early winter. She merely meant to point out that she appreciated the way it enhanced her attention span. Growing drowsy in this sort of temperature was near impossible.

Off topic again. True importance lied in the tavern standing before her. A pathetic hovel of splintering wood and vomit-stained walls, but all of her resources led her to this point. Silently, she slipped her hood on, shielding most of her eyes beneath the cloak of shadows and entered.

People. Bodies. Musk. Alcohol. So much of it.

Useful.

With a flicker of movement, a dagger slipped from her hip holster and sliced across the arm of a random patron. Perhaps a man. Perhaps a woman. Young or old. She couldn’t recall or bring herself to care. What mattered was the shriek that followed, before it melted with fatigue and everyone crowded around the victim in curiosity and panic. Up ahead, Pyche caught sight of a barkeep cursing, slamming a half-cleaned mug to the counter before slipping into the fray.

Head lowered, she slithered behind the bar and into the hind chamber. There was nothing outstanding about the room; it was small and reeked of something stale, and most of it was filled with tankards of ale. Pyche fell still a moment, eyes roaming the floors…

She stomped--hard. A rattle shook the planks, but her ears caught onto a particularly loose quiver coming from behind a tall wall of barrels. She followed the sound, coming upon a square slab of wood standing out starkly against the rest of the floorwork. A hatch. “A horribly hidden secret lair...quaint,” she muttered, prying it open with the silence of a butterfly’s wing beat. A steep ladder lead down further.

She descended.



“Have our men taken up post?” Sheer Vaashill unfurled a massive map across the table, the torches hanging overhead providing dim but acceptable lighting. A shortsword rested on his left hip and he adorned simple leather armor, not exactly in top condition. More than anything, it seemed as if he had stolen it off a dead body.

Another man looped around to Vaashill’s right, pointing at the borders of Bycrest’s palace on the map. “Yessir. They’ll be given the word to set out soon and should reach our stronghold in Bycrest with a day’s travel.”

“We’ll have to make it half a day, at the most,” Vaashill sighed, pushing back oily brunette curls. “We don’t have many men to spare, Haust. The longer our allies wait, the more of them die before even saying goodbye to their families.”

“I can press them on, but that’s about all I can do,” Haust sighed, tired gaze straying as his hand came to rest on the hilt of his longsword. He wore similar leather armor, but of better quality than Vaashill’s.

Suddenly, a disembodied voice pierced their ears.

“Sheer Vaashill.”

“What--!” Just as Haust’s hand flew to his waist, a projectile rocketed from the shadows and embedded between his eyes. The corpse collapsed faster than Vaashill’s mind could process what was happening. He froze, gaping at the blood flowing down his lieutenant’s face from the arrow buried deep into his skull.

Unbridled pain flared up Vaashill’s leg. Another arrow protruded from his thigh and he toppled over, gripping the shaft with trembling, bloodied fingers. “W-who dares! Who’s out there?!” he yelped, eyes screwing shut as a wave of fatigue crashed over him. He was losing blood, quicker than he ever thought a flesh wound could drain.

Pyche emerged, already in the process of strapping her bow onto her back once more. She paused to yank her arrow free of Haust’s head, shoving it back into the quiver. Slowly, she retracted a dagger and followed Vaashill as he attempted to crawl away. “By order of the Bycrest crown,” she said, voice flat and cold, “I require your head. No more of that crawling.”

Ignoring her words, Vaashill desperately unsheathed his sword and swung, only for Pyche to catch him by the wrist. “You are weak from blood loss. Do not waste your energy.” She knew each and every major artery in the human body. Bycrest wouldn’t have dared to allow her to be an assassin if she didn’t. His femoral artery was punctured and pumping gushes of blood from his system.

“Their crown means nothing to us!” Vaashill spat, fire raging in his eyes. “You think my death w-will give you the upper hand?” A wheeze rattled his lungs, smirking painfully. “F-fools. The whole lot of you--”

Her dagger drove into his throat up to the hilt, growing bored of his babbling. Listening to him was like watching cattle pass waste. Light died from Vaashill’s eyes quickly, his head meeting the floor with a soft thud. The assassin retracted her dagger, then the arrow from his leg, wiping the blood off onto her cloak. She took the man’s shortsword, testing its weight before eyeing the corpse; it would work well enough to hack away at his flesh until the head was fully detached. If she wanted to redeem herself, she would need physical proof.

However, she halted mid swing as a rumble cracked overhead, traveling through wood and layers until her insides shook. Another roar followed, this sound unlike anything Pyche ever heard. She was tempted to ignore it, but the sudden chaos unfolding overhead was impossible to overlook.

She glanced at the body.

Up again.

She clicked her teeth in annoyance, but discarded the weapon and hastily scaled her way back up to ground level.

The corpses weren’t going anywhere. She’d be back for them.



A dragon…

A dragon. A dragon? Yes, that was a dragon.

“...A dragon.” Pyche drove sharpened nails through her hair, scratching painfully at her scalp as she took in the sight with, for the first time in years, emotions. Mixed emotions. If that damned creature harbored any of the abilities that legends and stories spoke of...it could very well burn this entire village down to ashes. Including the bodies. Obviously, she couldn’t defeat that thing, let alone come close to denting its scaly hide or reaching it; thus, she would need to snag Vaashill’s head and leave.

Now that she came to that conclusion, she almost wanted to grit her teeth, displeased with her stupidity. She shouldn’t have submitted to her curiosity like that, rather than chopping off the head and investigating afterwards...No matter. There was no reason to fret over her mistake now.

Sighing, she turned around and sprinted through the crowd of terrified peasants.

She needed to get back to that tavern.
 
Last edited:
  • OMG
  • Love
Reactions: WingWong and KatSea
Erimn Silverglade | Interactions: Merchant & Elderly Man | Location: Whiteridge


“Three sets of bronze bowls, two more glass, twenty five set of vials, fifty milligrams of zinc hydroxicarbonate, ten milligrams of smithsonite, thirty of hematite, sulfur, iron…”

Erimn failed to notice the glances tossed his way as he went over the ingredients, listing them off verbally with a pinched brow. Even if he did notice, the attention wouldn’t perturb him; Whiteridge natives had been giving him the awkward treatment since he first opened his mouth to a local, asking for directions to the nearest market. Of course, it could’ve been as simple as saying, “Excuse me? May you point me in the direction of the market?”

However, Erimn’s version turned out to be an extended variation of: “Excuse me? May you point me in the direction of the nearest establishment which houses and sells diligently crafted chemistry and alchemy kits, along with providing bicarbonate minerals, preferably of an organic substrate, with a properly controlled environment to ensure utmost condition thus avoiding unforeseen anomalies?”

The potato farmer merely pointed west, eyes wide in a mixture of confusion and bubbling horror. Both emotions were lost on Erimn’s part and he followed the guidance promptly.

Which led to now--attempting to barter with an otherwise stubborn merchant.

“Four silver?”

“Six.”

“Dear oh dear…” Erimn sighed, fist curled pensively under his chin while the fingers of his free hand maneuvered in a pattern-like motion, one finger’s curling setting off the same action for the next, before repeating at the thumb in a cycle. A thinking tick. The weight of his rings were comforting, in a way, and helped to clear his mind for taxing situations such as this...and all social interactions in general.

The merchant folded his arms across his chest, eyeing the chemist with something akin to skepticism. “It’s six. Take it or leave it,” he grumbled, his insanely thick beard twitch in tandem with each syllable like a creature hanging on its last thread of life.

“Five?” Erimn said, eyes hopeful.

“Six! I already said six!” Annoyance flushed the merchant’s visage a deep red.



“Four silver and two copper, then--”

“That’s it!” Erimn’s eyebrows nearly disappeared into his hairline when the merchant suddenly reached under the cart and extracted a blade. It wasn’t the largest dagger in the world, but the glinted edge of it promised a deep slice into flesh. “If you can’t afford my bowls, then take yer business elsewhere! Go on! Get out of here!”

Oh dear, what is this...the fourth time? I thought I was getting better at this… he thought, somewhat disheartened. This wasn’t the first time a local gotten short with him, but this was suddenly the most extreme case so far. Heaving a sigh, he held up both hands and took a step back, expression neutral. “Please, sir, accept my sincerest apologies. Here, as a peace offering.”

Carefully, he dropped two gold pieces onto the merchant’s cart…

The man’s eye twitched.

“You...had gold…this entire time?!”

Erimn blinked, thrown off by the hostility. He thought this would soothe the merchant’s anger, not escalate it. “I...yes? I did. Do you require more?”

Just as the merchant was about to launch into a verbal (and literal) slashing, a monstrous roar rumbled overhead. At first, Erimn’s first reaction was to find the nearest shelter from rain, but was confused to see a lack of storm clouds. “Odd…”

Another roar, this one shooting shivers down his spine before blossoming through the rest of his body. Hairs stood on the back of the chemist’s neck and whatever arguing the merchant had in mind were squandered. Quickly, he scattered, clutching the dagger close to his chest with an armful of his bowls in tow. As he fled, his scream rang out over the rising hysteria. “Dragon!!”

Erimn blinked again.

“...Dragon? Impossible,” he mumbled. However, as soon as he looked up and saw...well...a dragon, it was safe to say that science took a hefty punch to the nose. Instantly, he paled and found himself stuck in place with shock, his brain scrambling left and right to explain this phenomenon with...with something logical. Something scientific. An advanced discipline of alchemy, perhaps? An extension of sorts? Maybe? Hopefully?

However, his poor brain ground to a halt when the dragon grew terrifying close, wingspan more massive than the Chemist’s Cot ten times over, and swooped down to bath five buildings alight with a powerful jet of flames. Erimn gasped, only gaining enough feeling back into his legs to stumble and fall, sweat rolling down his face. “Oh dear. Oh my. Oooh sweet goodness, w-what…”

Screams. Screams and discord and fear everywhere. Gods--he picked a terrible day to go shopping for Jeoburd.

However, one scream specifically attracted his attention. It seemed that whoever were occupying those shacks had escaped...except for one. A man of more elderly age leaned out of the window of a two-story building, fire eating away at the ceiling and first floor rapidly. He attempted to stick a shaky leg out, probably to hop his way out to freedom, but hesitated and clung on for dear life. It wasn’t a terrible long drop but for a man of his weak statue, he’d likely break a leg. Maybe both.

Either way, what mattered was that everyone else was far too preoccupied with their own lives to notice the old man’s situation.

Erimn looked back and forth. North. South. Towards dragon. Away from dragon. Save old man. Leave him there to die…



“Please Gods--watch over me,” he whisper-wheezed, absolutely shaking from head to toe. This was crazy. This was insane. He...He was going to die today, wasn’t he? More than likely. Surely. And to think, as he sprinted through the sea of bodies and dipped around burning carcasses, he wouldn’t be able to give his mother a proper goodbye. He hoped she wouldn’t hate him for that, even after he was dead. It’d be unfortunate, to say the least.

“Sir! Sir! Down here!” Erimn stood before the building, the heat sprouting discomfort along the front of his body as he waved to catched the old man’s attention. He opened out his arms nervously. “Please, jump! I shall catch you!” Even as he spoke, his eyes kept snapping in every other direction, trying to keep track of the dragon’s movement.

He didn’t want to die a roasted chemist. Not if it wasn’t by the hands of a failed experiment.
 
  • Love
Reactions: KatSea
Aironlo Silfast

"Oye Gods rest ye gentleman all, watch as your forsaken kingdoms fall. Men die in the laps of their brides, tainting the sheets of their wenches, aside. Don't follow the lustful beasts, hungering for your sweet feast. No I never cared for Riel, innocence she intended to steal. I never cared for Din, bathing in her sin. I did care for Litch, who I was always able to cure her itch," Aironlo drew his bow across the last string, lowering his instrument from his chin. He stared down into the open bag, copper coins glinting miserably back at him. The little brown bag, filled with patches and sown with regret and curses, slumped miserably against the road. His fingers nimbly worked to pluck it from its fallen state, propping it straight. It sagged back in its misery, a mere snicker erupting across his lips.

"Aye! Do I need to sing anymore about a lady's itch to get you to pay me some gold pieces?"

Clink!

A small piece of metal was chucked straight into Aironlo's forehead, plummeting into his lap as shock invaded him briefly.

"I'd pay ya to stop singing, you perverted worm!" A female's voice called, her shoes clacking swiftly past Aironlo.

"Oi! You will take that back if you get to have your itch scratched~"

CLINK!

It wasn't a coin that struck him that time, rather... "O-ow." Aironlo mumbled as his fingers brushed against the bruise threatening to form against his forehead. He blinked down, realizing she had struck him with a small bag. Curious(and somewhat hurt), he peeked into the bag to reveal quite a few silver coins. His mouth watered. "Alright my fair maiden. I will shut up." Tightening the small back up, he plucked it safely into the bigger sack. His items were clattered all around him, and realizing he now had enough money for a decent meal, he started shoving all his necessary materials back in.

Hunting knife. Partisan...

He glanced to his instrument and frowned. "Sorry dear. I promise I won't get you too badly damaged." Safely tucking his instrument away, he hoisted himself to his feet and adjusted the sac over his shoulder.

"Dragon!"

"Oh come on...I know I am mystically fantastic but that's a little..."

Aironlo's eyes flickered up as the voice who brought forth the proclamation pushed past him. Oh. There's an actual, living breathing...

"Holy horse piss." Panic threatened to settle into his stomach, finding his footing damn near impossible. Oh and this thing breathes fire. Heh...heh...Heh...Oh G O D S.

Aironlo decided that today was not his day to die, he had already gotten through bizarre situations. He was ecstatic now to be able to write a jig about escaping a dragon. Now, best thing to do. Find a way to escape.

"Running it is! Although that hurts..."

Screams interrupted him in the background, grumbling threatening to escape his lips. "I guess getting scorched hurts a hell of a lot more." Turning on his heel, Aironlo ignored the screams of the people around him and began to run for cover. He made sure his grip was focused on his bag, not wanting to admit the contents within were more important than his own well being.
 
  • Haha
Reactions: Mobley Eats
Collab: Dragons, just had to be dragons Caellun @CloudyBlueDay


Sephya’s shoulders shook as a draft of cold air passed through the open window. “O-oh w-what a c-cheery bright day…” Her teeth threatened to shatter with each shudder, her fingers clasping around the shades and pulling them close. Both her and her brother managed to settle in by last night, but Sephya still couldn’t help but feel tense in their new surroundings. She figured the emotion was normal, deciding to put a bright and jovial smile onto her features as she moved around the room, threatening to plop back into bed.

Sephya had been the one to suggest staying in past the normal morning schedule, knowing that their travels had been taxing. Sephya hadn’t been sleeping well, either. She would generally lie awake for hours, only to be pulled asunder into forcible slumber. Her eyes remained heavy, the lull and temptation of curling upon her bed and going back to sleep far more intoxicating than she wished to admit.

Plop!

Sephya happily stumbled to her bed, praying that her brother wouldn’t drag her out of bed. She was at peace now.

He debated every day whether or not to wake her early. Caellun knew she did not sleep well, but he couldn’t decide if keeping her to a routine was better than allowing her the rest that so often escaped his beloved sister. Caellun knew Sephya too well to be fooled by her forced smiles and fluttery attitude. When she was happy, he knew it. And when she wasn’t.. It hurt him.

Fleeing from all he’d ever known wasn’t so simple. He was a generally stony person, and he’d been told so all his life. His lips were constantly tugged into a frown, brows furrowed and forehead creased. Constantly in thought, trying to plan their next move. Trying to understand how he could have allowed Sephya to be hurt in such a way… but they couldn’t last very long going from inn to inn. Their supplies were dwindling… yet he couldn’t understand how was someone to just find a new place to call home?

“Sephya,” Caellun murmured. He’d been awake since the crack of dawn; no one was more of a morning person than he was. “We should continue on.”

“Mm.” Sephya mumbled in response to her brother, rolling onto her side to face him. Her brows pinched as her entire demeanor threatened to collapse onto itself in disgust. “I suppose it would not be a bad idea, Lun.” Bitterness burned at her core, knowing that because she didn’t keep her mouth shut and agree to marry the man regardless, her brother was forced to run from town to town with her. Sephya was relieved in a way, but at the same time knew that their lives were not going to be the same. And that in a way, she was to blame. She wished he had just stayed home and lived as he always did.

“You know, I should not recline all day. I have heard it is bad for the spirit. And for the spine.” She propped herself upon her elbows, blinking the sand from her eyes. She slowly hovered her feet over the floor, hopping to stand. She stretched out her arms, pressing them to her lower back before shooting a grin to Caellun. “Do I at least not look like I have awoken from the grave, good brother? I would at least like to see the sunlight while being a little bit decent.”

Chuckling under his breath, Caellun shook his head. “You look fine. As always.” He peered out the window, taking in the chilly air. He grabbed his coat from the edge of the bed and shrugged it on. He was already fully dressed, of course. “And wherever did you hear that? Though I’m almost inclined to agree.”

Peering down into the small town below, Caellun blinked. There were people running, shouting. Screams suddenly pierced the air. He gripped the edge of the window sill, fear climbing up his spine, eyes wide.

“By god. Is that… a…dragon?”

“Yes but can I be a painter’s muse or pass as a maid fond of cats?” Sephya smirked, glancing down at her garb. She was still in her nightgown, cozy and not fearing of fainting from being too tightly wound around the waist. She huffed under her breath as she reached for her own coat at the edge of her bed, figuring that one day of travel in her night gown would not slay any onlookers. She scoffed at the thought. She was fully clothed and it was fitting upon her. It wasn’t like she was showing very much ankle.

“A dragon?” Sephya barely caught onto what Caellun claimed, shrugging the coat on as she peered behind him. Surely enough, there were people below screaming in horror at a huge…

Dragon. A flying reptile.

If Sephya wasn’t so terrified of its size, she would have vowed to hunt it down and sell its lean meat. Her mouth went dry and words could not escape her. “Oh gods...Caellun I’m glad I didn’t sleep anymore, we need to leave. Now.”

“You do not need to tell me twice.” Caellun hissed, grabbing his satchel and slinging it on his shoulder. “Do you have everything?” He growled, giving the room one last, panicked once over. “Never mind. Just grab your bag. Now.

“Yes sir.” Sephya spoke softly, fear sloshing in her stomach as she slung her own bag over her shoulder, a few of her hunting materials safely inside. It was all that she needed. “I have everything. Let’s go let’s go.” She gently touched his arm, eyes wide, before making her way past the door into the hallway. Reality around felt surreal, the idea of a dragon looming over the town next to impossible. They weren’t supposed to exist. First time for being wrong I suppose.

Of all the things to be running from, for which there were many, Caellun never imagined one of them would be a dragon. Making sure she was out first, Caellun descended the steps of the inn at a rapid pace, watching the rest of its occupants throw open their doors in shock and horror, attempting to make their escape just as the siblings were. A dragon. A dragon! It was supposed to be a fairytale, a myth. He vaguely recalled his parents spinning the stories while putting him to bed. Stories, that’s all they were supposed to be. Stories.

“We have to get out of this town before it is no more!”

“Getting out when it is no more would not be optimal, would it dear?” Sephya’s eyes rolled, her heart climbing to her throat. She could not believe a creature of such myth flew overhead, and yet, for the moment, it felt more probable than leaving her home mere weeks ago. Odd how things are, although, she knew she’d rather not die by fire.

Keeping close to Caellun, Sephya broke free of the inn, staggering outside. The bitter winter air bit at her cheeks, plastering a grimace along her demeanor. “Brother, there has to be somewhere to take cover. Can we be swift enough to get out of town?” She swallowed. She could estimate that the dragon had a lot more leverage over them, ever if they did run. She knew there was no way to kill it, at its size and ability.


Gritting his teeth, Caellun looked up to the sky. He had no idea how they were to evade a dragon. Her barely even knew this town. What if getting out of this town didn’t even guarantee their escape? Ducking under an abandoned vendor’s stall, Caellun took a deep breath. “I-I do not know if escaping this town will even help us,” He admitted. “We have to find cover.”

“I do not know either.” She mumbled, ducking behind the stall with him. Her shoulders stiffened in fear, an exhale catching against her tongue“If we do not get out of this, Caellun, I need to tell you that I love you. Even if you are a pain in my side sometimes. A lot of the time. All the time. I think you understand my drift.” She chuckled nervously, a whimper lodged in her throat.

“Hush,” Caellun said, firmly. He deftly ignored her insult. “You are not giving me any goodbyes. Not even any mildly rude ones.” Caellun crouched beneath the stall. He could feel her fear, and it made him tense. He couldn’t return her sentiment… to say it would cement their demise. “We are going to escape this, sister.”
 
  • Love
Reactions: Mobley Eats
Izna Kalyani
Interactions: N/A
Location: The streets of Whiteridge



Freedom was a fickle thing.

If there was anything that Izna had learned since cutting her ties to the Kalyani name, it was that. For years, gaining freedom had been the very center of her life. It had driven her forward and kept her going when little else could. She had schemed and planned and bargained her way out of each shackle placed on her. She was free of her family, of deals and bargains over her head, and the expectations that once upon a time she would have been happy to fulfill. Now, however, all her plans had met their end. This was as far ahead as she’d allowed herself to think. There was nothing left to free herself from.

Izna Kalyani felt lost. It was a foreign feeling to the woman, considering that she had always been able to find her way in the world. Yet, here she was, with no plan and no direction.

It was how she found herself in Whiteridge. She had simply wandered, deciding that she ought to make the most of the freedom she had. She’d only been in the town a few days, but found it quaint. It was nice enough to stay for a little while before moving on again.

That was what she had believed, anyway, before finding the rather disappointing library yesterday. So much for gaining worldly knowledge that way.

Another thing that Izna had learned, though far sooner, was that people were pliable. Pretty faces and a demurely cheerful attitude did wonders for how trusting others were of her. So, as the arrogant man before her boasted of incredible deeds and prowess in all fields of life (all of which she could care less about), Izna swindled his purse from his person with ease. She’d end up running low of funds sooner or later, and it was looking like it would be sooner rather than later. She had a feeling he would hardly suffer for it, if he was even a quarter of the man he believed himself to be.

After politely excusing herself, she swiftly moved her way out of the door the tavern. Izna slipped into the crowds in the marketplace, thankful for having finally made her escape. Had she stayed another minute, her ears might have come loose.

Her relief was unfortunately short-lived as a chill took hold of her. She’d need a cloak before long. Her clothes as they were would only do so much to block the cold.

Izna had been scouring the area, searching for any vendor that might have something she could at least look at, when the clap of thunder sounded.

She glanced up. Blue sky met her eyes. What in the world…?

Then she heard the screams.

She whirled around, only to see a fairy tale come to life.

“DRAGON!” a merchant nearby yelled, as the massive creature came soaring closer.

Havoc reigned and people scattered, jostling into one another, searching for cover or a chance to flee. Izna was nearly knocked off her feet as she continued to stare a beat longer. A dragon. An actual dragon. All those stories, all those legends she had loved so much growing up, might actually be true. There could be dragons.

Then again, if she didn’t move, she might not ever get the chance to see another day or figure out what precisely it was that she saw today.

So she turned and sprinted, joining the crowds as they searched for cover.
 
  • Love
Reactions: Mobley Eats
Townsfolk filled the streets of Whiteridge, a crossroads trading town, bundle in as many furs as they could afford. Some were adequately covered, while others could feel the light breeze carry cold air straight through to their bones. Despite the winter chill, work still needed to be done so there were not very many people who could spare time huddled together next to open flames. It was just another day where the people of Whiteridge were completely unaware of the death that loomed over them.

The warning fell upon deaf ears. The shrill cry that cut through the sky, the clash of lightning with no clouds, all washed away by the hustle and bustle of the town. Even the soaring shadow seemed to concern very little. But the Buffet of wind...the rush of heat as fire washed down the streets..none could ignore that.

The first explosion of searing flame stunned the people of Whiteridge. Never had they experienced something of this sort before, or the beast from whose maw it came, but the second breath that incinerated buildings and people without prejudice to age, sex, or nationality, sent the streets into a full-blown panic. People trampled over others in vain attempts to hide from the danger in their homes that lit up like kindle under the infernal torrent. Those who were not burned or did not hide in homes, found themselves potential victims caught in talons and the maw of the dragon.

This was the scene that Terrick looked upon from the safe distance he had stopped them at, “By the gods,” he breathed shaken by the roar of the dragon and fire alike mixed with the cries of the people of Whiteridge, “H-how...how do you stop it?” He asked, sure that they would have to do little more than let the beast tire of its onslaught in hopes that it would simply move on.

Tears fell to the earth unbidden, as Delphinia watched the carnage. Helpless. She had never, in the whole of her young life, felt so abhorrently useless. Nothing could be done. Nothing would stop it. It would not end until the creature had sated its overwhelming lust for violence… it was a creature of death and destruction and nothing more. And Rellion had unleashed it upon an unsuspecting, innocent town…

Her fists balled so tightly her nails dug grooves into her palms, and shaking her head, she turned away from the devastated village, “It will tire of it… when the screaming stops. It will find a roost… in the mountains. Until it seeks another village.”

“So we just wait?” he asked. While the most logical idea, and the whole reason he had stopped Delphi in the first place, the longer the screams went on, the more he wanted to help.

“There’s nothing we can do. Our weapons won’t harm it… and I doubt there’s anything in that village that could.” Breathing in, she looked up again, as the mass of black suddenly took to the sky, “There… Its leaving… It’s…” Over... But it wasn’t. It had barely begun.

Terrick watched as it vanished in the billows of black smoke that stretched skyward. What a horrible creature, and only one of the things Delphi promised would be unleashed if the seals were not broken. The idea of what could happen next sent a shiver up the Knight’s spine. Still, he forced himself to think less of that and more about what he could do right now, “Let’s go, then. There’s got to be something we can do to help those who’ve survived.”

Delphi watched as the creature disappeared, and her fists unfurled, hands trembling by her side. She willed herself to move, to follow, but in her mind she could see what lay ahead and pressing towards it took more purpose than she felt capable of.

When he was satisfied that the dragon was gone, Terrick started toward Whiteridge, “Come, my Lady, we should see what we can do to help ease this town’s suffering.”

“...What can be done, Terrick?” She asked, her voice breaking as she pried her eyes from the sky overheard, “What hope can we possibly offer? I am only one person… and even with your help... I cannot hope to overtake my brother.”

Shaking his head, he gestured toward the town, “They do not need you to overtake your brother, Lady. They need food, shelter, someone to fight the fires and bandage the wounded. This, we can do. Later, we worry about your brother.”

Blinking, she looked beyond him, to the fractured town and breathing in, nodded, “You’re right. I’ve been so focused on the task that I must do, I’ve lost sight… Those poor people… Let’s go…”

With a nod, Terrick led the way, his hand resting on the hilt of his blade at his side. Throngs of people in a panic bolted passed them, though the crowds thinned as they approached the city. Those left inside were dead, wounded, or searching through the remains of their home to find what they could salvage. The flames raged on even as buckets of water were thrown on them in hopes of dousing them. The mournful weeping of the living rose, and the painful cries of the injured sounded. But these weren’t even the worst of things. The smell...burnt wood, melted metal, and charred flesh filled the air. Terrick had to swallow back the vomit that crept up his throat.

“Where do we start?” he asked, lost in the carnage before him, “There’s so much...so many…”

Stepping closer, Delphi’s breath escaped in a shudder, her eyes shifting about at the remnants of buildings and carts, of the scorched, brittle bodies, barely recognizable, barely human. Her hand reached, absently, to clutch Terrick’s arms, her legs weighted and unsteady, her chest tightened, heart pounding hard against her ribs, “...I… I don’t know…”

Surveying the area, Terrick took note of what was going on. Besides the still raging fires, there were people trapped under debris and injured that could be looked to. Pointing his gauntleted hand toward the injured, he spoke to Delphi, “Might you be able to help them?” he then moved his hand to a group of men trying to clear debris to get to trapped beneath beneath, “I will start there,” he paused a moment, “If you choose to help them...Stay in my line of sight. Men lose themselves in times of trouble.”

He moved away and Delphi nearly cried out, but biting her cheek, she nodded instead, shuffling her sack to her opposite shoulder as she turned in the direction he’d offered There was an older couple, it seemed, crouched side by side, the man with a hand to a gash on his forehead, the woman, her hands burned, held out in front of her. A little ways from them, Delphi removed a strip of linen from her bag, and bending before the pair, she met their troubled, distance gazes.

“I can help…” She murmured, and the woman turned to her first, nodding slowly, before giving the man a pat on the arm.

Reluctantly, he lowered his hands from the gash, and as Delphi began to wrap his wound, he spoke softly, his voice quivering, “...Our home… my shop… All gone. It… it’s all gone.”

Swallowing, fighting the emotion clawing at her chest, Delphi continued her work in silence, glancing back to see where Terrick had gone.

It took almost too long for Terrick and the four other men helping him to dig out the woman. Once she was freed, he straightened, using the back of his hand to wipe away the sweat from his brow. On occasion he’d glance over to check on Delphi who he’d catch doing the same in his direction though he was sure it was for an entirely different reason. Once the woman was safely skirted aside, Terrick made his way to Delphi, “It’s different, huh?” he asked, “different than life behind the safety of castle walls,” he sighed as he rested his hand on his sword, more out of habit than out of necessity, “I’ve seen this time and time again,” his brow raised, “Without the dragon of course. You don’t get used to it.”

“It’s horrible…” Delphi answered. She had bandaged the woman’s hands, but the man had not stopped mentioning the destruction of their livelihood… of their home. Desperately, she wanted to do something. Anything, to help. In the end, she’d given them a few gold coins from her pouch, but even she knew it would not be enough… it would never be enough.

Her hands, stained red from the blood of the elderly couple, shook, as she looked down at him, shaking her head, “...How do you do it, Terrick? How… how do hold yourself together?”

Reaching into the small pouch at his side, he pulled out a small medallion, no bigger than a gold piece, and held it out in the palm of his hand for Delphi to see, “I carry that coin in and out of the battlefield. It’s a reminder of why I fight..why I have no other option but to hold myself together,” he stared at the object for a moment and then lowered his head, “though, it means nothing now.”

Staring at the coin for a moment, Delphi studied it, with eyes filled with emotion. It was her fault that it meant nothing… She had not asked him to protect her, yet she knew she had left him no option, all the same. He had given up everything to save her life, and thus far, she had not repaid him in kind.

Reaching up to her neck, she touched the chain she wore, and unlatching the clasp, gingerly, she laid the gemstone in his palm, over the coin, “...So carry this, instead.” Closing his fingers around it, she looked up at him, “Your strength has been my own, so far, Terrick. So long as you remain at my side, I will carry on.”

Terrick had not expected such a gesture from Delphi. He stared down at the gold chain that snaked between his fingers. Even through his glove, he could feel the gemstone and it’s casing. This was no small gesture on her part. His grip on the stone tightened as he spoke, “My sword…” he shook his head, “My life is yours, Lady Delphinia. So long as you remain an honorable woman, I shall remain at your side. I will fight your battles, and defend your honor even as the last breath slips from my lungs. This I swear to you.”

Releasing his hand, she bowed her head, “...With all of the grace I possess, Terrick… I will try to be worthy of such a vow.” Breathing in, she straightened, before looking to the town, “...And I can start here. We need to gather the survivors to the square. I cannot hide from my brother, and watch this world burn. I will not. But we will need help.”

Gingerly, he slid the necklace into the pouch for now, purposing that when he had a moment, he would do something more with it, “Then I’ll do what I can to usher them toward the townsquare, but I don’t carry much weight here,” he spoke.

Smiling delicately, Delphi shook her head, “I’m afraid we will have to get used to making our voices heard, Terrick. I may be a princess, but that will mean little… here or in Anglion. I think, however, a full purse may persuade some. And if we have any luck, at all, the rest will have a sense of honor or duty.”

Nearly an hour later, Delphinia stood in the center of the square surrounded by a small crowd of survivors. They had come out of allegiance, or curiosity, or fear, or hope… They had come because there was simply nowhere else to go…

Straightening, breathing in deeply, she exhaled her uneasiness, and spoke loud enough to address the crowd, “Good people of Whiteridge… I stand before you, brokenhearted for the loss that you have suffered here. I cannot undo the damages done in this place today… but if you are willing, together, we can prevent this atrocity from spreading throughout Valinar.” Groans and murmuring swept the crowd, and Delphi grimaced as she watched several of the men and women, wandering off again. And why shouldn’t they? What she was asking seemed madness… Had she not envisioned it in her dreams, she might have thought the same…

With another breath, she continued to the few that remained, “I’m asking you now… imploring you, please... help me track down and slay this horrible beast… and stop the men responsible for bringing it into your homes, into your land! All who are willing shall be compensated, greatly… and your names lauded among men. If you will rise and stand with me, I swear to you, this great injustice will not go unpunished… this tragedy will not be in vain!”

Trailing off, her eyes skimmed the crowd before she looked to Terrick, searching for any indication that her words had reached someone. Anyone.
 
  • Love
Reactions: KatSea
Aironlo Silfast



Aironlo did not recall how he got from his corner on the street to the empty vendor cart where he hid. Screams and heat plagued the man, hundred in a curled position. His back ached, sweat drenched his brow, and his only hope of remaining sanity was the feeling of his bag within his hands. Through the fabric, his fingers skimmed across the carved wood of his instrument. The gentle material was enough to soothe him, even as pressure built upon his back. Rubble. He wasn't sure how much, but he realized how difficult it was to breathe. A thin line of light peeked through the opening between him and the outside world, and a gentle creak sent fear through his stomach. He, with what little room he had, threw himself against the side of the stand and pushed it, enough for the wall to crack. Feebly, he managed to creak the fallen stall open and crawled out.

Silence filled the air around him. Rubble and burned bodies littered the streets. How Aironlo survived was questionable to him, all that he knew was that he was there, bag happily in hand.

"Airon, what happens when you die?" A feeble voice greeted the young man from the opposite side of the room. Aironlo had been confined to his bed for a week now, no remedy enough to settle the nausea that built within his throat. Aironlo's lips were parched, cracking and bleeding from lack of water. No. All the viable water that came into the house went to Girgi. Girgi was the smaller of the two, and much more weak. He deserved what resources were available, even at the expense of Aironlo's health.

"Don't worry about that. You don't need to worry about that for a long...Long time."

"You...you did not answer me." Girgi called out, weak and groaning. A laugh escaped his tired lips. "You are running around the question."

"I've been told there are gods. I've been told there is more to life than this. Just...just have faith. I guess. I think that's the best way to look at it. I've heard its like falling asleep, and then you get to see a world you never thought possible."

"I've heard there is someone to walk you along the clouds. That's what mama told me."

"Yes. Turning into a wisp. I always liked that thought. Dancing along the clouds..." Aironlo smiled weakly. "It seems better than what we have now."

Aironlo's eyes flickered back from the memories. They weren't particularly a good place to go, but he reminded himself that being in such a position couldn't have been so bad. Joining Girgi in the clouds was...Not a bad idea. He glanced down at his sac, throwing it over his shoulder with a grunt. He was surprised to see survivors coming out of the rubble, a large group meeting up in the center.

A woman was leading it. From what Aironlo could see, she was beyond the gorgeous specimen. Despite the horror, he smiled. His eyes skimmed across the crowd to see if he could find a woman who threw coins at him. She was not there, and for a moment he stepped back to observe the local area. It did not take long to find her, a gentle speckle of blood streaking down her temple. Her legs were lodged underneath some rubble, her cheeks pale. Despite himself, Aironlo was able to pluck her out from the rubble, the woman miraculously groaning in her life. Aironlo's heart skipped, knowing she was nowhere near good to walk or to awake. Plucking the small bag of coins from his sac, he placed it in her hand and laid her down gently. "Sorry my dear. I am going to need to run my mouth a while longer. Your gift was appreciated."

He stepped away, mumbling a prayer of nonsense under his breath before he returned to the group huddled.

“I’m asking you now… imploring you, please... help me track down and slay this horrible beast… and stop the men responsible for bringing it into your homes, into your land! All who are willing shall be compensated, greatly… and your names lauded among men. If you will rise and stand with me, I swear to you, this great injustice will not go unpunished… this tragedy will not be in vain!”

The woman brought him from his darker thoughts, and despite himself, there was a grin on his features. An adventure, hmm? A beautiful woman, and the possibility of being compensated? It sounded suddenly delightful to him, compared to the bore his life currently presented.

"I hear you, my fine lady." Aironlo called from the crowd, stepping slightly forward to present himself. He put his hand over his heart. "I believe your words to be filled with valor, and holding an possibility for good men to be even greater. I will stand with you, fair maiden." He bowed his head respectfully, realizing at the last second that there was a puff of hair wildly sticking from his head and in an opposite direction of his remaining locks. He paused. Slowly he brushed it back, returning to the bow. What else did he have to lose? It was a dragon, for godssake, but what the hell was adventure without a little fun? A little woman companion and the possibility of riches?
 
  • Love
Reactions: Mobley Eats
Pyche "Psycho" Laradda | Interactions: Commoners, Delphinia @Elle Joyner & Aironlo @KatSea | Location: Whiteridge


Burned carcasses. Sizzling, blistered flesh. Agonized and horrific screams. Death and fire, everywhere and all at once. It was a ghastly sight, a true testament to the level of cruelty the world could descend upon humanity.

Pyche didn’t give a fuck.

She shoved and pushed aside all bodies that stood in her path. Sweat gathered under her cloak as the heat in the air steadily climbed, walls of raging inferno roasting Whiteridge civilians alive. She could only be grateful in the fact that the dragon’s roars overhead helped to drown out the pathetic wailing. So much screaming. It infringed on her thinking.

However, there was still a chance. An opportunity. Sheer Vaashill’s body. His head. Soon, she’d come upon the tavern once more, hack it free of the corpse, securite it in thick wrapping and cloth, and regain her rightful place in Bycrest’s good graces…

Except she couldn’t.

Pyche had thought it was a trick of the eye, but instantly banished that to the grave. She never misconceived. Ever. That was fire, creeping up the sides of the tavern and spilling through doors and windows. She knew the scent well--burning wood and flesh. It was only a matter of time before the flames reached the tankards and grow more than twice their original size.

Gloves curling into fists, she took a few steps closer, just close enough for her face to warm uncomfortably and for the stench of ash to tease her nostrils. She couldn’t be this close for long. It was foolish--

But the body. She needed Vaashill’s head.

But the fire. It was over. There was flammable beverages stocked up in the back.

But the head. Without it, Bycrest wouldn’t let her past the front gates--

She need that head--

And what would be left of it? Seared skin and bones and cartilage? Rusty, flaked blood. A face, unrecognizable beyond compare--

--But her livelihood. Her place under the crown’s rule. How else could she--

There wasn’t. There was nothing else.

Nothing else. Nothing--

--nothing else, nothing, nothing, nothing--

Nothing.

Brandishing her blade, Pyche spun sharply on her heel away from the tavern and slipped back into the crowd.





Fifty six minutes. Fifty six minutes exactly of stress relief. And yet, only two deaths so far, well, excluding the distraction she concocted earlier in that...damnable tavern.

Teeth gnashing, Pyche slowly wrapped her fingers around the young man’s mouth, who squealed in equal parts fear and agony as her touch grazed a disgusting fold of exposed flesh upon his cheek. The burn had eaten away at the entirety of his left torso and face, just barely skimming his eyes and looping around his ribs beneath scorched clothing. He was bound for death. Even before Pyche had found him, and judging by the way he had clung to her ankle and groaned pitifully, a small part of himself knew as well.

She was merely smothering both of their pain.

“Quiet,” she said, hold tightening around him as she curled further into the shadows; this alley was one of very few spared by the dragon. The shading was minimal, nothing she’d be ungrateful for, no matter how little. It was enough.

He whimpered once more in protest, though his struggles weakened. There was defeat peeking through the pain, she could see it in his misty eyes. Good. He was the only sensible one. She would reward him with a painless passing. Swiftly, she sliced horizontally across his throat and watched as his shoulders tensed...before relaxing with sudden weakness. Thin curtains of blood rolled down his front and his body slumped back into her. “The poison will numb you. Rest.” Slowly, she laid him on his side and stood, watching the corpse grow cold.

That now marked three kills. But what now? This was what she had asked herself after the first killing. That old man is dead. What now? Kill another one. And so she did. Thus, that gurgling pile of flesh for a human being was spared of further suffering. What now? Kill a third time. So, once again...what now?

Pyche didn’t have an answer. For an assassin who geared her existence towards a single purpose, which was no longer within reach...It was borderline maddening. Regardless, if she couldn’t organize her thoughts, then she could at least maintain face. It was then that a voice reached her ears, registering numbly in her mess of a mind.

“Good people of Whiteridge… I stand before you, brokenhearted for the loss that you have suffered here. I cannot undo the damages done in this place today… but if you are willing, together, we can prevent this atrocity from spreading throughout Valinar.”

Empty words. Meaningless preaching. Pyche emerged on slow, soundless feet, dead eyes spotting the origin of that voice. Some woman, her poise and posture extremely telling. Nevermind her rags and disheveled apparel, but she spoke like a leader, like someone of high stature...The assassin didn’t care. Quietly, she made her way over, hovering around the edges of the crowd and watching the woman like a hawk. Pointless. Her cries were so pointless.

“I’m asking you now… imploring you, please... help me track down and slay this horrible beast… and stop the men responsible for bringing it into your homes, into your land! All who are willing shall be compensated, greatly.”

Pyche couldn’t lie to herself--her interest was snagged, if only slightly. And yet, the fog of aimlessness was crawling its way back into her skull and the luster of riches began to wither as quickly as it gleamed--

“And your names lauded among men.”

Pyche fell still...Her name. Lauded. Gracing ears beyond lands and seas, through guards and palace walls...until reaching the Bycrest throne. Maybe. Perhaps.

In an instant, the assassin had squeezed through the pathetic gathering of commoners and stood before the woman, expression colder and smoother than steel. She peeled her hood back, locking eyes with this...optimist. “I wish to swim in that creature’s blood.” Her veins boiled. That dragon--it was that accursed beast’s fault that Vaashill’s body was gone. All of her hard work. Vanquished. In a single breath of fire. “I’ll join you, optimist.” However, her gaze flickered to another man approaching, his hair an unruly mess as he bowed with a hand over his heart…

Pyche refused to bow.

She snapped her gaze back to the optimist, remaining silent.
 
Last edited:
  • Love
Reactions: KatSea
Erimn Silverglade | Interactions: Old man, Aironlo @KatSea & Delphinia @Elle Joyner | Location: Whiteridge



“Please jump! I shall catch you!”

A powerful roar from the dragon overhead threatened to make Erimn fall to his knees. Whether it’d be out of fear or something else entirely was difficult for his brain to decipher at the moment. The entirety of his focus was locked onto the elderly man, who squinted down at him, coughs rattling his fragile chest.

“What?!” he hollered, before a wheezing heave escaped him, slumping over the window sill.

Erimn jumped a few times in place, waving his arms back and forth. “Yes! Sir! Here! Down here, please!”

“What!”

“Jump, you fool!”

“What’s that?!”

“Jump!!”

“Whaaaa--”

“BY THE GODS!” Erimn slapped both hands to his sweaty face, the tiniest hint of defeat nagging at the back of his skull. Just how horrid was this old fellow’s sight and hearing? He would need to garner his attention in a different way, something. Eyes darting about frantically, he grabbed the nearest projectile nearby, which was a fairly-sized stone, and reeled his arm back. Eyes narrowed, he honed in on the sweltering wood next to the window and called out, “Duck, my friend!”

And chucked the rock.

A pained squeak, accompanying the unfortunate sound of rock meeting a face...Oops.

“Egads!” the old man exclaimed, cradling his poor abused face.

Erimn instantly paled with guilt. “Oh...o-oh dear, my deepest apologies, sir!” However, before he could ramble any further, the old man slumped forward like a wet noodle and his limp body fell from the window. “Oh Gods! I’ve got you, I’ve got--Oof!”

Aching. That was all Erimn could register as pain flared across his back and throbbed through his body like an angry drum. Groaning, he tried to sit up, only to recognize a foreign weight on top of him and identifying it as the old man.

Unmoving and blood smearing his face.

“...Sir?” Shaking like a leaf, Erimn raised two fingers and pressed it to the commoner’s neck…

No pulse...Oh Gods. Oh bleeding Gods!

Against all logic, against all sciences that clearly stated all signs of life and perceptual registry deceased approximately thirty seconds after drawing one’s last breath, Erimn still clutched the old man by the shoulders and shook him frantically. The chemist’s eyes blurred with oncoming tears, panic thinning his voice with hitched wheezes. “S-sir? Sir! Sir, please! Y-you must open your eyes now! Come now! Just, open them! A simple matter, the simplest! I’ll...I’ll scream in your ears, if I must! Wake up!”

Even after Erimn had carried the body a safe distance away from the fire, even after he tended to the bleeding wound upon a cold brow, even for several minutes after, the old man never woke up.



Erimn wasn’t crying. Never cried beforehand. He had outgrown it ages ago, as that was the mature and independent thing to do. To face hardships and hurdles and losses with a steeled heart and square jaw. An impenetrable wall of stone.

His bloodshot eyes and tear-streaked cheeks spoke otherwise.

A man--what did it mean to be a man? One of valor and honor and respectful ways? Erimn thought he knew, at least had a clue, a few significant factors but he was foolish. So damn foolish. How could a self-respecting scientist expect to solve a chemical equation without gathering all of its base reactants? How could he return home to Jeoburd? Would he have the gall to face his uncle?

No. Probably not.

The fires have taken away much of Whiteridge, if not all. So many faces and homes and livelihoods--burned to ashes. And what had he done? Quite literally stoned a poor man to death. Or, perhaps, the toxic smoke had filled his lungs and rendered him unconscious. It was hard to tell which was the cause, but the guilt and shame weighed on his shoulders all the same.

“Good people of Whiteridge… I stand before you, brokenhearted for the loss that you have suffered here. I cannot undo the damages done in this place today… but if you are willing, together, we can prevent this atrocity from spreading throughout Valinar.”

Erimn gave pause, his dragging feet slowing to a stop in the center of a pile of rubbish that used to be Whiteridge. It was a woman who spoke, adorning commoner clothing but possessing a tongue of finesse. All she needed, Erimn realized, was the proper strength and confidence behind it. Regardless, he found himself drawn to her words and approached carefully.

“I’m asking you now… imploring you, please... help me track down and slay this horrible beast… and stop the men responsible for bringing it into your homes, into your land! All who are willing shall be compensated, greatly… and your names lauded among men. If you will rise and stand with me, I swear to you, this great injustice will not go unpunished… this tragedy will not be in vain!”

Erimn didn’t care for revenge. Nor riches. Nor for his name to be lauded by many. None of this mattered to him, but he could see a thin line. A thread of hope bobbing ambiguously towards the shore before receding, just out of his straining fingertips…

He seized it with a tight fist.

“My lady,” he weaved through downtrodden villagers to the front of the crowd, giving a short pause to nod at two other volunteers in acknowledgment. “I do not know how helpful my services may be, but...I have a rapier to my right, a heart yearning to fix this tragedy to the left of my breast, and science behind me. If you will have me.” He mimicked the lad with the...unfortunately wild mane and bowed, a fist pressed over his heart. He locked gazes with the woman, eyes still bloodshot and glistening. “I’d be honored to assist you.”

Another pause.

He reached out to the man from before, smoothing back stray hairs he had missed. It’d drive Erimn insane if he didn’t tidy up the poor man. “Apologies if I invaded your space,” he muttered, taking a step back once he was satisfied.
 
  • Love
Reactions: KatSea
Out of the Rubble
Collab with @Katesea

Sephya could not recall how time passed, their shelter underneath the stall shielding her from the chaos that waited outside. She could easily say that there was a definite feeling in her heart that they would perish where they kneeled, the sound of crumbling homes and screaming villages a further testament to her demise. There was a spark of hope, however, as the stall became emerged in silence. A few groans remained, but there was a simple truth. There was some peace out there, but Sephya did not know if that was because the dragon had settled into the town and slaughtered everything in sight. Her breath caught in her throat, words managing to escaped her tired lips.

“I am going to go see if we are safe.” Sephya claimed, crawling from the stall and peeking her head out. Her eyes widened, her hand clamping over her mouth to prevent a scream from bursting forth. There was carnage everywhere, houses burned, roofs caved in, dead bodies littering the streets. Her shoulders trembled, and slowly she pulled herself back into the stall, a gasp crawling in her throat. “D-dragon. G-g-gone.”

“Sephya!” Caellun shout-whispered as his sister crawled from their hiding place. It was certainly true that it seemed the like the chaos had settled, but damned if he was ever going to willingly let her go first. “Come back here this instant!” She was too stubborn to ever listen, and he poked his head after her. Blood… bodies. Death, surrounded them. Death had surrounded his entire life. This was no exception. Somehow… death had forgotten to take him too.

“Dear God.” Caellun whispered, shutting his eyes and shaking his head. “S-so many… gone…”

Caellun’s voice withered from existence. Sephya could analyze nothing beyond the sights before her. A body laid close to the stall, it’s fingers outspread and bloodied, a faint, white sliver creaking from the knuckle. When she retreated, she held her hand to her chest and proclaimed. “I am sorry. I should not have looked. I am sorry.” Repeating this, she slowly placed her hands against the ground and propped herself to stand. She screwed her eyes shut. “We...we need to go now. I cannot bare to look.”

Standing weakly, Caellun put a comforting hand on his sister’s back, throat dry. “It’s alright,” He said shakily, taking her hand gingerly. This was the height of Caellun’s outward emotional capacity, though there was the slightest of trembles in his hand. “We’ll be alright. Let’s go.” He muttered, leading her away from the wreckage, dancing around splayed body parts and the remainder of what was once a lively little village.

Sephya knew that her brother’s words were far from the truth, that it was not alright for the many fallen at her feet. She squeezed his hand, attempting to comfort the both of them as her shoulders trembled. She knew her brother, and she knew that he was not going to express sorrow if he felt it. But she could feel the trembles against the palm of her hand. “Let’s.” Softly she spoke, careful of her step as they walked. She grimaced, the sight of limbs beside her feet churning sourness in her stomach. Had she not been so accustomed to death and flesh, she would have sworn she would have fainted where she stood. She planted her feet into the ground, skidding her brother to a stop, for at the corner of her eye, she could see a crowd of survivors gathering.

“I’m asking you now… imploring you, please... help me track down and slay this horrible beast… and stop the men responsible for bringing it into your homes, into your land! All who are willing shall be compensated, greatly… and your names lauded among men. If you will rise and stand with me, I swear to you, this great injustice will not go unpunished… this tragedy will not be in vain!”

Sephya let go of her brothers hand, the woman’s voice booming and enchanting her. Sephya found that her footsteps grew swiftly as she gently pushed back the group, not hearing the piece about compensation for the deeds ahead. Sephya knew that if this woman was right, more people could die. Sephya couldn’t live with that guilt, knowing that there was something she could do.

“Fair lady, it would be my honor to assist you in the journey ahead.” She proclaimed as she stepped forward, attempting to put a face of courage upon her demeanor.

Fully prepared to roll his eyes and turn away from the gathering crowd, Caellun tugged Sephya’s hand, only to find her slip out of his grip. “Sephya?” He said quizzically, watching her push forward. No, no, no. She didn’t dare.

She did dare! Caellun made sure Sephya knew how much it bothered him, a clear look of disdain etched into his features. This was some crusade that would surely lead to death, lead by foolish do-gooders. They had been lucky enough to be spared by this dragon… now they needed to get the hell out.

Of course, Sephya had to drag them elsewhere.

“Fine.” He hissed. “I as well.” Caellun called out to the two standing nobly above them.
 
  • Haha
Reactions: Mobley Eats
Izna Kalyani
Location:
Whiteridge (what's left of it)
Interactions: Delphi @Elle Joyner, survivors in Whiteridge


Izna wasn’t totally sure what the roof she hid under had belonged to before, but she knew it was her salvation today. She stayed there, quietly clutching her own bag and crossbow as hell descended on the world around her. There she was, for what felt like hours, until at last it seemed peace had returned.

At least, that was what she thought, until she crawled out from underneath that broken roof.

Blood and bodies as far as the eyes could see. The stench of death, of burnt flesh, met her nose. If she’d had a weaker stomach, she might have thrown up. She’d seen terrible things and great deal of blood, but this was still a bit much to take in.

Carefully, she pulled herself to her feet, shoving down an old urge to brush the dust from her clothes. As if that dust mattered in the grand scheme of things. Her lips were pressed into a thin line as she stepped gingerly around the dead.

She walked, trying to follow the signs of life, though they were few and far between. They were there, even under the rubble and ash. At one point, after hearing a cry from underneath a heap of rubble and charred wood, she helped to free a mother’s broken but still living body from the heap. The woman’s small child soon followed. She helped the woman walk, the child toddling between them, as she guided the woman towards the survivors. She found herself on the fringes of a small crowd, a different woman standing before them all. She was dressed in rags, though her poise spoke of a woman far above the stature of her clothing. Izna bid farewell to the mother as she found an old friend and hobbled away, toddler in tow.

The voice of the woman before them all met her ears.

“Together, we can prevent this atrocity from spreading throughout Valinar.”

Izna frowned slightly, despite herself. How could they prevent it? This beast was the thing of legend, and it lived up to its name. Then again, if there were legends about it, especially ones where dragons had been slain, someone had clearly lived to tell the tale….

“I’m asking you now… imploring you, please... help me track down and slay this horrible beast… and stop the men responsible for bringing it into your homes, into your land! All who are willing shall be compensated, greatly… and your names lauded among men. If you will rise and stand with me, I swear to you, this great injustice will not go unpunished… this tragedy will not be in vain!”

And there it was. Sure, there was adventure there. There was something to occupy her time, to give her purpose and direction again. But her name known across the land?

That might be among the things she wanted most, though the adventure itself was a close second.

A name for herself. No longer the 6th daughter of her father, a meek mouse of a girl that no one cared to hear or see. No longer the silver-tonged schemer among pirates.

She would be known, for herself, as she was.

Plus, there was money involved, and she could definitely use a bit of that.

“I will join you,” Izna said, stepping forward to join the small troop of volunteers.
 
  • Love
Reactions: Mobley Eats
Whiteridge
Everyone
Collab: w/ all you fools ( :) )​


Standing not too far from Lady Delphinia, Terrick watched as the people began to gather and listen to her speech. Honestly, he did not expect a reaction. These people had lost everything and rebuilding would be the first thing on their minds. Besides, may of them were peasants and merchants, what could they possibly do against a beast as terrible as the dragon that had just ravaged their home. It was a fool’s errand to have hope in this.

However, one after another, members of the crowd stepped for and proved him wrong. Before them stood six individuals who thought it best to slay this monster than cower in a hole waiting for someone else to do the deed. They had heard Delphi’s cry for help and risen to be heroes of the realm willing to fight for the safety of others.

At least, that would have been nice.

Terrick sighed as he looked over the ‘heroes’ that had stepped up to take on this challenge. They were a group of people...not soldiers...not big game hunters. They were just ordinary everyday people...except for one woman. He could see something darker in her eyes...something that sent a chill down his spine.

He offered a kind smile to Delphi and nodded as the other people in the crowd began to dissipate too concerned with salvaging what they could of their lives than with what Delphi had said. Stepping toward the band of volunteers, he rested his arm on the pommel of his blade, “This is it then? This is the group that will slay a dragon?” He scanned the group and then pointed with a jerk of his head to the woman he had noticed before, “You, I believe can help, but what have the rest of you got to offer? We aren’t hunting a boar or deer. This beast would sooner roast you or tear you to bits between its teeth than allow you to slay it.”

Pyche didn’t physically react, but a hint of intrigue did indeed tickle the base of her stomach. So, the optimist’s companion wasn’t blind. Good, it meant less breath wasted on talking. However, she couldn’t help but share similar doubts about the rest of the group. People. Peasants. Expendable. She didn’t care for attachments, but she surely hoped that none of them would slow her down. She refused to fail.

“Ah, yes, well, good sir,” Erimn babbled, fist over his heart once more, “I am quite aware that the matter of species who unleashed Hell fire upon this poor village is of reptilian descent. The boar and deer, not so much. They are more mammalian and reside in a woodland habitat, per preference for their survival patterns, while this flying beast is clearly a champion of the clouds. It may be of legendary proportions, but…” He faltered a moment, brain scrambling for the right words. “I am a scientist--a chemist and I am also well-versed in the Laws of Alchemy. I am also quite finesse with a rapier, so my combat skills are...competent, I hope. Science and the academics shall always be my strong suit, nonetheless.”

A beat.

“Talk less,” Pyche muttered.

“All skills are worthy for such a challenging journey… Even those gifted with words.” Delphi added with a small nod to the loquacious young man.

Terrick glanced between Delphi and Erimn, knitted his brow, and sighed before nodding, “If you say so, my Lady.”

“A boar would also maul you, and deer would sooner flee than allow you close enough to kill. This dragon, it’s still a beast. A beast of legend, but a beast all the same. It might be hard to do, but it can still be killed. In any case, what did you expect when you asked what remained of a village for help defeating a dragon? Soldiers?” Izna asked. The gleam of Terrick’s armor hadn’t escaped her notice. Part of her thought she recognized it, but armor was armor, and it had been a long time since she’d seen the armor of her own country.

“You need to find it, though, don’t you? You’ll need to travel for that, and who better to help guide the way than a merchant’s daughter?” Izna asked with a soft smile. She was tempted to show exactly how useful she was with her crossbow, but this was hardly the time to show off. She was better when she was underestimated. They didn’t see her coming then. In the meantime, her ability to navigate should hopefully be enough. If not, well, she did still have her crossbow….

Swallowing nervously, very unsure of the group that Sephya had just allied them with, Caellun shifted his weight on his feet. An unsettling blonde, a babbling scientist, and a smooth talking woman. So, now he was supposed to prove himself. Glaring daggers at Sephya, Caellun moved forward.

“My sister and I are skilled hunters and butcherers. We know how to track, kill and work with a blade.” He announced uneasily, gesturing to Sephya. Hopefully, this would be over quickly enough, and his darling sister’s itch for excitement would fade.

Sephya shot her brother an innocent grin, although she realized now that the man may have had a point. This was a dragon. Not a boar. Yet, Sephya knew that she could offer some assistance with the anatomy aspect. With the assistance of the of the rambling scientist, the quiet blonde, the merchant’s daughter, and well, her brother, she figured that they could at least put a dent into the creature. She was not sure if it was well put optimism, or if it was her own desire to think that she would live beyond this.

“I have experience in trap creation and long range as well.” Sephya offered slowly with a respectful bow of her head. “We have handled our fair share of animals, and we do indeed know our way around a kill.”

“Damn my soul,” A young man claimed to the side of Sephya with a laugh, brushing back his hair. He sent a wink towards the young scientist for assisting him previously, before seeming to grasp the situation once again. He did not seem to be fully solemn, rather, letting some cheeriness enter his cheeks. He grinned. “Quite a team of adventures. My dear sir.” He directed his attention to the more noble man of the bunch, once again bowing by his head. “I may not understand the sciences that revolve around a mythical creature, for the irony is strong. I do not know my way around skinning a creature, but if there is one thing I am useful in, I am skilled in knife work. I know my way around a partisan. And as the merchant’s daughter has spoken, you need to find the creature. I am more than willing to assist in the gathering of materials before such a dangerous mission. I do know my way around a merchant’s heart. I promise, I can be of great assistance when it comes to access of equipment.” Mentally, the young man added whether it be legal does not matter.

Terrick rubbed his forehead for a moment before turning to Delphi, “I suppose these will do. You have your dragon hunters, my Lady.”

She did, indeed, and that thought was oddly less comforting than she imagined it might be. Her eyes skimmed the small crowd… so small… And her heart knit in her chest as she bowed her head, “I am in your debt. All of you. Gather what you must… We leave shortly…”
 
  • According to Plan
Reactions: Mobley Eats
As they dispersed to gather their things, to gather their wits, Delphi watched their small crew with weary eyes, and the breath she had been holding escaped in a soft sigh, “...Are we doing the right thing, Terrick?” It was too late now, to change it… and in her heart she knew they could not do this alone, but these were not the hardened soldiers or skilled warriors she had imagined, “Tell me, honestly… What are your thoughts?”

With a sigh, Terrick hooked his thumbs in the belt that hung around his waist, “I think we are marching them to the deaths. I think they’re safer here,” he paused, “But I also think neither of us will have any luck raising an army here. They’d sooner hang me, and your authority isn’t recognized here. Truth is this is the best we can do, so they’ll have to do.”

It was honest. Brutal, but honest, and Delphi grimaced, as she lowered her eyes, “...How many more do I doom… Sometimes I wonder if this isn’t what he wanted from me, after all.” Taking a breath, she looked up, eyes filling as she shook her head, “I must tell them… When we’ve gone far enough from Whiteridge. Of Anglion and my brother.”

“Do you think it wise so early in our expedition? If they knew about all of this, don’t you think they’d be a little overwhelmed. They aren’t soldiers or warriors, Lady Delphi.They’re common folk.”

“If I don't tell them… They'll find out, soon enough.” A sigh escaped, as she turned to him, “I've never done anything like this. You have. I trust your judgment, above my own. What should I do?”

“Tell them when it is necessary,” he sighed, “not a moment sooner. You and I cannot do this alone, and while I do not see how they might help us, they are confident that they can. We use them while we can and when the need arises to inform them of your brother, then and only then do we do so.”

“Al...alright.” Smiling faintly, she touched her fingertips to his arm, “Thank you. You are invaluable, Terrick. Truly. We should see what we can find for supplies. Tents… weapons… and food. We will need as much as we can carry…”

Bowing respectfully, Terrick spoke, “Thank you, my Lady. If we can spare the coin, a donkey or horse would be a good load bearer, and a horse for yourself perhaps?”

“If they are to walk, I will as well. As you said, my position holds no meaning here.” Smiling delicately, she felt in the bag for her coin purse, “A cart, I think… as well.”

Terrick didn’t like the idea of Delphi walking. While she was not recognized here, it did not change the fact that she was indeed a Lady...a princess really. Still, he’d support her decision, “Sounds like a good plan. Once we’ve gathered these things, where shall we be heading?’

“The creature will return to the wall… Our best option is the mountain pass. It will be treacherous, but we cannot scale the wall from the valley. It's a four day journey… There's a village just before the pass, where we can see about buying warmer clothes. I should tell you… The closer we get to the barrier, the more likely it is my brother will have sent spies through… And there is a bounty. A… significant bounty on me.”

“We should keep the bounty to ourselves, too,” Terrick shifted and rested his forearm on the pommel of his sword, “And so long as my sword is yours, you’ll be safe from your brother’s men.”

“And so long as you are loyal, Terrick… No harm will come to you, as well. I won't let it.” She added, with a smile, “Now, come along. We've supplies to procure…”

Gesturing down the rubble-filled streets, Terrick spoke, “After you, Lady Delphi.”

Terrick ensured that the right things were gathered. Tents were purchased for each member of the makeshift party, and he watched as Lady Delphi negotiated the purchase of a donkey and a cart so that they could load the provisions and other equipment purchased. Once everything was gathered together, Terrick and Delphi, along with the others, set out from the ruined town of Westridge bound for the mountain pass.

It was midday when a break was suggested. As they broke out the bread and fruit that Terrick had procured, and passed it among their crew, Delphi found a seat on a rock, rubbing her shoulder with a small frown. She had lost track of how long it had been since she’d made it over the border, but she knew the length of time it took to take down a seal, and it was too long… far too long for Rellion not to have made a move…

She opened her mouth to suggest they continue, when her eyes flickered to the path ahead, and her heart turned to ice in her chest. Fear coiled down the back of Delphi’s neck, and rising swiftly, she spun, “Terrick!”

Along the road, a small band of men and women stalked towards their own, menace folding around them like a cloak.

“Terrick, we need to move!”
 
  • OMG
Reactions: Mobley Eats
I'm With Stupid
Collab with @Katesea

Their little band of fools had not amused Caellun, and even as the reality of what Sephya had gotten them into began to settle in, the look of disdain only seemed to etch itself further into Caellun’s features.

“I’m impressed, Fi.” Caellun drawled, when they finally had a moment alone, after Terrick had handed out their rations and they’d paused for a break. Caellun unsheathed his carving knife, settling on a rock. “I thought I had seen the extent of your ability to get into sticky situations. I was wrong.”

“Brother you did not have to pull your sorry rear end into the chaos. That is on you, I am afraid.” Sephya mumbled, guilt building up in the back of her head like plaque, stinging and slowly beginning to eat away at her skull. She swallowed. “Besides, the first mess we were in is not my fault, would you rather I married the oaf and we stayed miserable in that little town while I raised younglings who had to handle that man as their patriarch?” She paused, tapping her chin as to continue her argument. “Now for this situation, I admit, this is more rested upon my shoulders. But I could have gone along just fine on my own, as I could have from our home. So keep your voice down unless you truly need to use it. You are wasting air.” Puffing out her cheeks in a pout, she couldn’t help but examine the others around her. Terrick and Delphina appeared to be rather gracious, the scientist somewhat endearing, the blonde a little concerning(but Sephya was certain that there was something sweet there) and the violin player. Sephya didn’t dare lock eyes with that one.

“I do not mean to be rude.” She continued. “I am equally scared as you are, but this is of noble cause, is it not? I recall how horrifying it was to have to hide underneath the rubble, unsure if I was going to get to see your face again. I do not wish for anyone else to suffer it. Besides, I cannot see the worst that could happen. We have been traveling for so long and have nowhere to settle, why not a little adventure along the road?” She smiled, her demeanor dimming back to it’s normal, timid expression. “A-although...now that I think about it...that dragon was huge…”

Caellun blinked. He’d gone back to his carving, dragging his knife across a piece of wood he’d deemed acceptable along the way. His brows were furrowed in thought, expression changing as Sephya rambled. Even after she finally spoke, Caellun stayed silent quite some time, the only sound piercing his silence was the soft slicing of metal on wood.

“I. Am not. Scared.” Caellun said gruffly, voice low, as per her request. “I am only here to keep your sorry rear end from an untimely demise, which is what would certainly befall you if you were left to prance off to fight a dragon with the lot of fools that accompany us.” Caellun looked up at Sephya. “Noble cause is no excuse to throw oneself into the fire. Taking on an impossible task is not noble. It is foolish, and despite all my trying, you have a death wish, Fi.” He shook his head. “You cannot see the worst that can happen? Truly? Because I can. Quite clearly. The worst that can happen is us, on the floor, charred like all of Whiteridge. We will have accomplished nothing noble except our own early deaths.” His grip on the knife tightened. “Do not trick yourself into thinking this is simply a fun excursion. You are smarter than that.”

“Do you not consider the innocent souls that could be lost if nothing is done? I understand not wishing to do it, and if you aren’t afraid, why is this such a problem?” Sephya asked of him, quiet and gentle as her arms folded along her chest. “I like to believe that we are not going to die, Cael, even if the idea seems foolish. If you are so worried about death, you can leave any time, you know?” She frowned. “I don’t want you hurt, and you seem so bent on scolding me for my own decision. I know it is not going to be a normal hunt, nor is it meant to bring me any sort of joy. I am doing it because I am morally obligated. I understand if you are not. But you speak to me as if I am a child. I may be foolish, but I fully realize and accept what can happen.”

Rolling his eyes, Caellun sighed. “I’m worried about your death, idiot. Leaving isn’t going to quite help that.” He made a few aggressive strokes onto the piece of wood, some shape beginning to form. A rabbit. “I am not speaking to you like a child. If you believe that you fully accept what will happen, then you are only that much more stupid.” He grumbled. “But what is done is done. We are here, and we have agreed, so I will stand by you as I always shall, Sephya. If only to keep your hide intact.”

“You speak to me so crudely.” Sephya had never been truly surprised when Caellun called her such things, yet she found herself irritated. “You sound as if keeping my hind intact is a burden, so what is the purpose for you? It doesn’t seem to do you much, keeping me alive. So if you are going to keep complaining, go back home.” Sephya didn’t mean to speak in such a way, yet there was only so much she was willing to put up with after seeing others around her die. She didn’t want this to occur again. “I do not...I do not mean...Caellun I am being honest with you, I do not see why you linger when it seems I am nothing more than weight to carry around.”

Stiffening, Caellun momentarily put the knife down. He glared at her, one brow raised. “Go back home?” He said with a snort. “Sephya, I have no home without you. You are not a weight to carry around… you are my sister. Your burdens are mine. I am your older brother, your protector, and it is my job to keep you safe. I will not abandon you, ever.” He stated simply, almost nonchalant, as if it were obvious despite his ridiculing. “That’s not to say that you make the job easy…”

“Caellun, I do not mean to make your task at hand difficult. It’s just been very difficult as of late and I apologize for dragging you into this mess without your consent. I figured you were going to say no, so I did it anyway. You can step aside at any point, but if you are with me, then we are going to survive this. Brighten your spirits a little bit, it’s going to be alright.” She hesitantly reached out to pat his shoulder, knowing how he could be with affection. “I only mean to try and make things right. I hope you know that. I do not mean to bring any more hurt to us.” She frowned, tapping her heels together in anxiety. “Just remember you can step aside anytime.”

Allowing her hand to rest on his shoulder an abnormally long time before shrugging it off, Caellun looked off to the side. “If you so insist, Fi.” He said with a sigh. “I will only step aside with you in tow… and if it gets out of hand, I will not hesitate to…..” He blinked, the sudden shift in the air startling Caellun. He could see in the distance a band of people heading their way, and they did not hold an inch of good intention.

“I spoke too soon.” Caellun hissed.

Sephya allowed for her hands to travel behind her back, a frown present along her features. She wasn’t take aback by his response, knowing fully well that he could and absolutely would drag her from this lively bunch if something were to occur. She couldn’t truly fight back against this, her mouth open in a wordless gap as she could hear Delphinia’s outcry. Surely enough as she turned her head, a group of men approached them.

“Caellun.” She spoke, urgent. “I cannot believe I am saying this, but I am in agreement with you. We need to get out of the way, now."
 
  • Love
Reactions: Mobley Eats
Pyche Laradda & Erimn Silverglade | Interactions: Each Other & Hostile Group



Talking, talking, talking...So much useless chatter. Perhaps, just maybe, Pyche would feel less inclined to carve their tongues out of their skulls and use those to forcefully suffocate them if the siblings would just...keep...their melodrama...to themselves. But no. Pyche was not the most fortunate woman around and thus, she was burdened to overhear their woes. Their emotions.

Gods, it was nauseating.

“So, I never properly introduced myself to the rest of you. My name is Erimn Silverglade, Chemist. How shall I refer to all?”

Ah yes. This idiot. Erimn.

Pyche would find him a fraction more appealing dead.

It was fine. She could...manage, as long as the fool never bothered her directly. It was all a matter of keeping quiet (child’s play), sitting as far away from the others as possible, remaining vigilant of the cart’s hindquarters during travel, and avoiding interaction with these bumbling heathens until the dragon’s corpse laid before her very feet--

“What is your name, my dear?” As if by the means of some dark magic, the chemist was suddenly next to Pyche, leaning forward a tad to make eye contact and smiling innocently. He almost looked like a puppy.

And thus, with a flicker of movement, Pyche pressed a blade to his neck. Erimn yelped, falling as stiff and frozen as a statue, wide eyes filling with shock.

“My advice for avoiding death are as follows,” Pyche whispered, “Never surprise me. Never come near me without my permission. Never waste my time with aimless pleasantries. Blink twice if you comprehend.”

At first, Erimn’s throat bobbed with a gulp but, after a moment of letting the ice around his lungs thaw, he did as he was told and blinked twice. That didn’t stop his mouth from moving, however. “Y-yes. Of course. My...My deepest apologies, madam.”

A beat.

Pyche resheathed her dagger. “I am Pyche.” She refused to spare the man another word or anymore of her attention for the rest of their travels. And yet, even then, she could hear him muttering her name over and over, committing it to memory with enthusiasm…

Pyche nearly rolled her eyes.







She didn’t eat the bread and fruit immediately. Rather, Pyche sniffed whatever was handed to her, attempting to catch of whiff of anything suspicious. She was fairly familiar with the scent of sulfur and other lethal components, as she often concocted her own poisons before coating her blades with them. However, after a few moments, she came to the conclusion that the rations were safe to ingest and she ate swiftly. Once again, she made sure to perch herself as far away from the others as possible, but still keeping them within her line of sight, satchel hanging protectively at her side. She couldn’t afford to allow them out of her vision; a few seconds, perhaps even one, was all it took to split her stomach open with a blade or pepper the back of her head with bone fragments and gore, all in one swift blow.

Pyche didn’t trust these people. She was working with them, for now, but she never trusted anyone aside from herself, the Bycrest crown, and...Well, the third no longer mattered--

A trill to Delphina’s voice. Panic, the sound of an old friend. All it took was a single glance in the band of men and women’s direction for Pyche to read the animosity radiating from them and despite Delphina’s words, the assassin was already crouching behind a stone and knocking back an arrow. She let the bolt fly, aiming directly for the closest target--a headshot.

Meanwhile, Erimn jolted at Dephina’s exclamation, a rather generously-sized piece of bread stuck in his mouth. “Fhwut? (What?)” he muttered, head snapping in the direction of the looming group. Oh...Oh dear. If that wasn’t pure hostility in their step, the chemist apparently didn’t know what hostility was (but he definitely did, due to Pyche’s wonderful greeting in the form of a dagger at his throat). Bread dropping from his lips, completely forgotten, he was already in the midst of ushering every in the opposite direction, refusing to leave until everyone else was ahead.

If his mother raised anyone, it was a man who would never leave a companion behind in the throes of danger, especially not his female compatriots.

Which would explain the worry bubbling up his gut upon realizing that Pyche had yet to retreat. By the Gods. What was she doing?? When he saw her unleash an arrow, he cursed and swallowed back his fear of her, before seizing her by the arm, gently tugging. “Madam Pyche! W-we must go!”

Pack!

Erimn yelped. Did she...Did she just punch him? The man wasn’t bleeding or bruised, but it was a hit measured just right to get her point across.

“New advice. Never touch me,” she muttered. However, Erimn wasn’t having any of that and he shook his head, once again tugging the assassin to her feet.

“Strike me all you wish after we escape, Madam Pyche! I beg of you--let’s go!”
 
  • Love
Reactions: KatSea
Aironlo Silfast



Aironlo muted the noise that fluttered around him. Cascades of useless syllables. Waste of oxygen, yet, Aironlo made no attempt to quiet the meaningless conversations that floated about him, like oafs bumbling into each other. He didn't find much trouble in it, but there was irritation nibbling at the corners of his skull. He would distract himself from this emotion, keeping the facade of wandering eyes. There was a hint of truth in his gaze, inspecting the pale blonde interacting with the dim scientist. A smirk pulled at his lips.

"Play me, boy." Meaty hands clamped onto Aironlo's shoulders, his back tense by the sudden touch. Amusement sparkled in the young man's eyes.

"Won't your wife be home soon?"

"Why, have you been lying with her too?"

"I would never take the place in your bastardly sheets, sir." Aironlo reached for the bow of his violin, turning on his heel. "Still want me to play?"

Aironlo snapped out of the memory, unsure of why the two reminded him of his time at that particular household. He shook his head, eyes locking to the merchant's daughter. A genuine beauty. I don't think I am foolish enough to try. Similar with the blonde. The knight seems a bit wound up as well. There were the siblings, which seemed to tempt him a little bit more. Not too threatening, as far as he could tell.

He retrieved his instrument, having been comfortable enough with the supplies that were given to allow himself to unwind. It seemed decently in tact, a small chip at the bottom of the instrument somewhat discouraging. Never the less, he propped his instrument onto his shoulder and grasped his bow. His fingers skimmed the strings gently, tilting his head as he pulled the bow across to check if it was in tune. "Good enough." He muttered, making a brief adjustment before strumming a few notes. "Good." He muttered, allowing himself to fall into his practice. No words escaped his lips, the mere tune enough to keep him at ease. Any other voices were drowned in his melody, the young man's shoulders slumping in relief which each successful note.

"Never cared for the wilting rose of a woman scorned, nor desired the taste of her forlorn innocence, tarnished by a man's dying request. I never desired to see her with bare intentions, the lick of the fire bringing her body to..." He stopped his muses, making sure his voice remained controlled and under his breath. His body tensed at the sudden outcry by those around him, and he swiftly traded his violin for his partisan. Aironlo wasn't too much of a fighter, and he would have much preferred to run, but this would most likely be a good idea to keep it on him.

"Well, guess I shall perish then."
 
Izna Kalyani
Interactions: Aironlo @KatSea


Izna said little. She kept close to the group for the most part, close enough that she could hear the things she shouldn’t. Not all of it, but snippets and details. She knew just enough to start putting pieces together in her own time. The chatter didn’t bother her too much, though. Quiet as she was, she’d lived so much of her life surrounded by noise. Six sisters and a boat full of criminals were hardly quiet creatures. While she often craved solitude and silence because of it, she could make do. The tent she would not need to share was plenty enough.

As for the actual group, Izna didn’t truly trust a single one. Some, she was closer to trusting than others. The siblings seemed the most straightforward of the group, if nothing else. Erimn was something of a puppy, she found, though she didn’t let her guard down just yet. She knew better than most that first impressions were misleading, sometimes intentionally. As for the others, well, Delphi and Terrick were hiding something. Relatively straight forward, but they were still keeping secrets. Then again, so was she. The blonde…she intrigued her. There was a cold edge to everything about her. Izna intended to test the waters there, but gently and slowly. She didn’t trust her even the tiniest bit though.

As for the other, Izna knew a swindler when she saw one. She’d been flicking her gaze over the troop of travelers most of the way so far, but he was the one she’d made eye contact the most with. If she had to guess, she’d say he was assessing all of them as well.

As he should be, really. She mentally debated striking up conversation, but left it alone for now. When it came to fellow criminals, either she really got along with them or she really didn’t. She might as well keep the peace for now.

If asked for her name, she’d offer it, but otherwise, Izna kept her mouth shut unless referred to. She wanted to figure these people out a touch more before she started probing and striking up conversation.

She’d shoved a bite of fruit into her mouth when Delphinia’s cry reached her ear. Her head jerked up, eyes wide as she spotted the group approaching them. She stood, not yet drawing her knives from their hiding places, but she clutched her crossbow a touch tighter. They needed to move.

Erimn had started to usher them away when she heard Aironolo speak.

“Maybe if you move your hide, we’ll prevent our party of eight from dropping to seven,”
she commented a bit dryly.
 
  • Spicy
Reactions: Mobley Eats
The foolish, misguided passions of a child. This was Rellion's warning. His sister had neglected her obligations to crown and kingdom and run off to the Forbidden lands, to avoid the responsibility for which she had been born. She had forsaken her family, ignored her calling and now it was their responsibility to trek after her and bring her home again to fulfill her destiny.

Savrin led, a true maelstrom of fury and design, concentrated to the task at hand with an unholy focus, determined in no way to fail his king. With him were the Men of Valor - Kirrhos, Tanrik and Amastien - these, with his trusted maiden Clery made a fine force. Rellion, however, was unsatisfied by their force, and sent also his Witch, Seona and the Nameless abomination.

Crossing the rift had proven quite the difficult endeavor, and in truth, Savrin owed some credit to the princess, for making it on her own. Rellion had, of course, warned them that her gift was strong... Cast, himself, had blessed She would see them coming, no doubt, as she had the fools sent after her beforehand. Lord Vadrigan's failure came as no surprise to Savrin, who had, too the best of his abilities, warned against using a Mundane being for so arduous a challenge. The man who had cut down Vadrigan would prove problematic... the others she had chosen, in time could rise to their full qualities. The sooner they struck, the better.

He had seen them... In his mind's eye he had seen their location, and sixteen days into their journey, they were closing in. Over the ridge, he could see the tents... Smoke curling from the flames of a campfire. Soon, they would have their quarry, and could return from these forsaken lands... He would see his children again, and his beautiful Elmira... And taste the sweet waters of the Cabrian rivers and feel the warmth of the summer sun over the hills of Andelaid.

“Up ahead, Captain!” Kirrhos called, “They’re moving!”

“Archer!”

An arrow flew into their circle, aimed with all certainty at Clery. Sudden silence filtered around them, a vacuum, as Clery’s shield surrounded the woman, her long, slender fingers wrapped tightly around the totem circling her neck. The arrow, smacked against the invisible wall, but where it should have bounced off entirely, instead, it pierced through, and swearing, Clery moved with barely enough time, the arrowhead burrowing into the leather of her shoulder armor, “Augh!”

“Stop! Everyone stop!” Savrin shouted, “Clery??”

“I’m alright…” She hissed, holding her free hand up to her shoulder, “Something went wrong with the spell…”

“...The Anomaly…” Savrin whispered, frowning heavily, “Rellion spoke of this. Fall back… Just for a moment. I need to think.”

“They’re right there, Sire! Down the hill. We can take them…” Amastien protested.

“This is their world, Mast… There’s no telling what their defenses are. Fall back!”




Instead of running, Pyche nocked an arrow and released it. Swearing under his breath, Terrick watched as it soared through the air and lodged in the woman’s shoulder. He was certain a charge would come next, but was relieved when he watched the group begin to fall back. Pyche’s reaction to them had managed to buy them time.

Shaking his head, he shot a glare toward Pyche that was short lived. A nod of appreciation followed, “Quickly!” he stated, “Now’s our chance to put distance between us and them. Lady Delphinia, the cart, please,” though it was a request, there was a certain tone in his voice that suggested otherwise. While she was nobility...royalty even… he was sworn to her safety.

And she gave no show of argument. Even from so great a distance she could recognize her brother's forces all too easily. They were unmatched. Greatly. Without hesitation, she made for the cart, climbing swiftly into the back.

Swiveling, he searched for the best route that both allowed for ease of travel and the cover necessary to hopefully protect them from sight and enemy fire. His eyes settled on a ridge that had just enough rock to cover their movements. A little ways down, it looked as though there might be the mouth of a cave. It’d have to do for now until they could figure out what to do next.

“Follow the ridge! It looks like there’s a cave up ahead. We don’t stand a chance out in the open,” his eyes bounced to each member of their group before landing on Pyche, “We must live to fight another time.”
 
  • Nice Execution!
Reactions: Mobley Eats
Oh, That Hit? | Pyche Laradda & Erimn Silverglade | Interactions: Terrick @DarinValore & Each Other



Something was wrong.

Pyche felt it in her bones the moment her arrow loosed and sliced through the air. Her aim was impeccable, finely honed and tuned like a well-oiled machine. She was never off her mark--ever. And yet, something shifted, wavered to existence through a means that she couldn’t readily wrap her mind around, and disrupted her trajectory. Only a little, but just enough to drive the arrow into a shoulder, rather than through the skull.

Words couldn’t describe the annoyance that raged up her spine. “Impossible,” she whispered. By this point, the babbling moron had given up tugging her along, but refused to leave until she made a move to retreat with the others. Pyche desired answers. Desired redemption for her arrow. Desired to rip it from that woman’s shoulder, drive the pointed head through her eye socket, and stow it back into her quiver.

She preferred to save her ammo.

Regardless, in the end--always in the end--something as useless as longing didn’t matter. The apparent leader of their team called for a retreat and she still had a dragon’s blood to swim in. Gnashing her teeth, she finally relented to Erimn’s tugging…

Correction: She broke free of the man’s grasp, seized him by the front of his coat, and started dragging him onto the cart with everyone else. “W-wait! Madam Pyche! At this rate, my balance shall--!” His protests went ignored, nearly stumbling over his own feet as the assassin pulled him along like an animal tied to its leash. With nothing short of cold aggression, she chucked the man onboard and hopped on right after.

“We must live to fight another time.”

Pyche gave pause, dead eyes studying Terrick like a roach crawling across her boot. Her jaw twitched, words dancing up the back of her tongue...only to alter themselves as her lips parted. “I’m holding rear post.”

True to her word, she manned the back of the cart. She refrained from withdrawing another arrow, but kept her hand free and at the ready, eyes glued to the group like a disgruntled hawk. As she concluded before--something was wrong. A mere moment ago, the optimist and righteous tin man were scrambling for escape, desperate to flee the group’s grasp. They still were. And yet, with a single arrow to the shoulder, they withdrew? No...None of this sat right with the assassin.




Dear Gods. Dear Goddesses. This was escalating so quickly and out of nowhere! Erimn almost feared that the cardiac muscle within his chest would come galloping through the gaps of his ribs. And with those ruptured tissues and arteries would come the violent drop in blood pressure, an onset of fatigue so powerful that he’d like faint before death claimed him. Well, supposedly his brain would last...perhaps...a few moments post system failure? He wasn’t quite sure, his knowledge of anatomy is rather rusty, as it was a discipline that he’d only recently began to dabble in...Oh dear, now that he was reflecting over his thoughts, the image of a scurrying heart was grotesque. Banished. Banished!

The topic of utmost matter was getting out of there. Quickly.

After Pyche had...so lovingly hauled him onto the cart, Erimn scrambled in closer with the others, hand hovering from head to head as he took count. Terrick, Delphi, the darling siblings, the fellow with messy hair, Miss Izna, Madam Pyche...Okay. Good, good. That was everyone. “Gods watch over us and grant us the strengths of the mightiest warriors and academics,” he wheezed, attempting to steady his breath as his hand fell to the hilt of his rapier.

He cursed under his breath. Shaking...He was shaking. Like a naive and useless child.
 
  • Love
Reactions: KatSea