World Walk

Status
Not open for further replies.
Seeing Demi fall, Laurelle's normally apathetic exterior and calm decisiveness faded away. Her fingers stopped dancing, the magic that was beginning to crackle through the air dissolving, and the light mage leapt toward her friend only to see Taras reach her first, having been closer. Instead of diving in to literally pull Demi out of the fire, she moved to support her as she stumbled to her feet and shakingly spoke a defensive incantation, cloaking both of them in a protective aura of rainbow light that pierced the rain and the smoke and the fire to serve as a beacon of incandescence--an almost poetic symbol that beauty could be found in the harshest of situations.

The swordfighter's ward absorbed the lightning bolt, but the impact still caused him to stumble as the energy dissolved into kinetic force that spread across the shaking barrier like a breaking wave. He shook it off and made a lunge for Taras, but found his weapon smashed straight out of his hand as the distinctive sound of steel on steel sung out. He desperately raised his shield, barely in time to block the overhead strike that would have split his head open, but staggered as he was promptly kicked in the gut. Before he could recover, the air shook with the surge of magic and his unprotected shield splintered and broke in half as an invisible blade of force cleft through it, rending the smoke and rain. The knight pressed her advantage, proceeding with several furious strikes that each found weaknesses in his light armor, tearing his flesh and scattering his blood. He cried out as the last stroke found purchase in his neck, crushing it with a sickening crunch. Losing consciousness, he only barely felt the swipe that tore the wound open even further and ended his life.

Skye turned back to the others, not wishing to watch her enemy's twitching body crash to the earth, her gut twisting. She found herself light-headed as the adrenaline rush of combat wore off, leaving her tired. But she'd keep going. She always had to keep going. So much blood and death...
Laurelle was looking at the body with revulsion clear on her face. Her unspoken chastisement hung in the air.
"We don't have time to leave survivors." Skye responded. "Let's keep moving."
Reluctantly, the thief turned away to continue their march, and the knight got the feeling that Laurelle wouldn't be speaking to her for a while.
 
Last edited by a moderator:
Demi meekly nodded in response to Skye's response to keep moving, feeling strange that she didn't have a staff to decisively grip onto as she did so. She noted the irritation that was positively emanating from Laurelle next to her: Demi knew she would probably be mimicking her friend's non-lethal tendencies soon enough. For now, she just wished it didn't have to be so bloody as she walked beside Laurelle, Taras taking the front alongside Skye once again.

"We should switch to a quieter approach in a moment," Taras noted. "We're nearing the building, if my perception of distance doesn't betray me." He let the rest of his rain run its course: it would be too magically taxing to renew it, and he wanted plenty of magical strength left in reserve just in case they ran into a powerful foe or any of them caught on fire again, something that was not hard to do in this place.
 
Staying close to the wall, the group pushed their way through the fire and smoke until they reached a line of systematically pulled houses. Separated from their burning kin, an effective firewall had been created, stopping the blaze from spreading into this district. Just beyond was a hastily crafted and spotty wall of stone that had obviously been tossed together with magic; it was just scavenged or conjured blocks stacked on top of each other and crudely sealed with a sticky substance that was likely the result of the spell. There were broken gaps in it in several places, and there was noöne manning the shoddy battlements, but nor was there anyone attacking it. It seems the brunt of the battle hadn't spread this far yet.

"Let's take this carefully." Laurelle said. "We're trying to help the people on the other side of this," She glared at Skye. "So put your weapons away for now." The knight silently acquiesced, reluctantly slipping her sword back into its sheath. They picked past the wall, climbing in through a gap and into the clearer air where there was little smoke. After a moment of walking back towards the center (the tower was clearly visible), they began to see the ragtag militia that was protecting the district. They caught the eye of a tall man wearing plate armor who walked with the purposeful stride of a practiced soldier. He approached them with a wary expression, noting their sheathed weapons and thus not drawing his own, a wicked looking curved two handed sword. "Friend or foe?" He called. Laurelle stepped forward. "Friend. Hail." She responded, holding up her hands to affirm that there was nothing in them. The man nodded. He jogged up to them. "Thought you didn't look like Hendricks' men." He squinted, looking them up and down. His features were obviously Arandish, bearing the proud curve to the eyes and chiseled face. "I haven't seen you around here before." He stated. "And I've met damn near everyone in this shithole of a town."
"We just arrived." Laurelle told him mildly.
"Oh? The battle's been going on for almost a day now. You must be some kind of crazy to willingly enter a burning city."

"Something like that." The thief responded. "We're looking for Fen. We were told he was organizing this militia?"
"You heard right." The man said. "Since you can't do any harm with an encampment of fighters around you, I'll go ahead and take you to him. He can decide what we do then. What are your names?"
"Laurelle." She said. She curtly inclined her head toward Skye. "This is Skye. The girl in the robes is Demi, and the other knight is Taras."
"Aaron." He said simply. "Now let's go."

The foyer of Fen's headquarters was bustling with activity. For a force put together spur of the moment, they were surprisingly well organized. Skye suspected that they must have several seasoned officers in charge, and this scholar must be very competent. There was a hooded man in black robes sitting behind a table on the far side of the room, patiently listening to the report of a wimpy looking man in light armor. As the scout turned to leave, Aaron stepped up and saluted. Old habits die hard. The knight noted, already surmising that he must be a retired soldier who moved to the Fragments.

"More fighters?" Fen looked them over, pulling his hood down. He was Velarian, with short, unkempt black hair and a sparse beard. He looked older; maybe in his forties. There was a bow and quiver of arrows slung across his back. He absentmindedly tapped his fingers against the table, and Laurelle noticed a silver ring with a bright blue stone set in it on his finger.

"More or less." The thief told him. "We were looking for you, and you can't really help us if you end up with a bandit's sword in your chest." She introduced them again. "We met Hawke, and needless to say we're interested in your research." Fen raised an eyebrow.
"Alright, then. You're willing to help me beat back this thug?"
 
Demi took a slight bow as she was introduced. Although she knew how absurd she was, looking like a blob of ash, she knew that most people in this city did by now, so maybe it was just as well that she was arguably blending in. "We'll do whatever we can," she said in response to Fen's question.
Alarm flashed through Taras's mind at being introduced as a knight. They had had no idea whether or not knights were welcomed around here, but luckily it seemed anyone was welcome as long as they could fight. "Whoever organised this place has my respect," Taras said idly, seeing clear that the pro-city forces wouldn't have had a hope if they hadn't come together and formed this camp so quickly. "How can we help?" His goal had already been to get in, find Fen, and get out. Now it was get in, defeat Hendricks, and get out.
 
Fen leaned back with a thoughtful look on his face. "I have enough people on the middle fortifications." He said. "Our position isn't the best, but the road is narrow and Hendricks can't advance without my fighters peppering him with arrows. They're not very organized, but they do love butchering bandits." He folded his hands and stood them on the table. "We're at a stalemate, however." He continued. "My forces aren't coördinated enough to advance our positions. Neither of us can approach, and neither of us can really hurt the other. I could eventually siege him out if he kept rushing; he's only got so many men, after all. But that could take days. I'd prefer a quick, clean rout." He stood up. "I think I know where I can use you. You skirted the walls to get here, yes? Not much fighting out over there. Hendricks can't move too far away from main street lest I get the jump on him, and he doesn't have enough men to divide his forces and attack that side with any show of force. Occasionally a straggler or two finds his way through there, but they're shot down quickly enough. But this means that we can move freely at the sides of of the city. You four, as many soldiers as I can spare, and Aaron will flank them from the left and target Hendricks. When he falls, his forces will collapse. He's the one paying them, so a lot of them will conveniently decide that they have business to attend to elsewhere."

"So we're to kill him?" Laurelle said flatly, a dangerous look in her eyes. It was obvious she'd had enough of killing for the day.
Not seeming to catch the hint, Fen responded. "Not necessarily. He just needs to be disabled. Anything that gets him off the battlefield will do. I'm hesitant to put the lives of my men at risk, and capturing him would be more difficult, but if you can do it without further endangering Aaron and his squad, feel free. I'd imagine I could get some valuable information out of him anyway."
"Alright." The thief responded, easing up a little.
Aaron gave a salute, seemingly out of habit, and led them out of the building. It only took them a few minutes to gather up the men performing routine tasks around the camp. Besides the group and Aaron, ten fighters in total.

They reached the wall just in time to see a similarly sized squad of Hendricks' men beating a hole in it near the left wall. They looked up almost in panic as the group bore down on them. Aaron, who had equipped a helmet before they left, sprinted and jumped straight off the wall. A powerful surge could be heard as he cast some kind of spell. An enemy threw a javelin at him, but it spun and fell to the ground as something batted it out of the air. His great blade in hand, the Arandish man chopped at a lightly armored enemy, his weapon biting into the bandit's chest and creating a horrible wound. Every thug in the group attacked him, but their weapons seemed turned away by some invisible force. As his group followed him off the wall, it became apparent that Aaron had cast some sort of protective spell that, combined with his full armor, made him practically invulnerable. His soldiers skirted the battle, targeting any enemies that began speaking, cutting off spells before they could be cast. Despite just being a ragtag militia, it seemed the knight had instructed them on strategy well. The few that survived the first ten seconds of the battle began to turn and run.
 
Taras looked on approvingly as Aaron and his men took the front quickly. It seemed that they were scarcely needed, but Taras knew that that was likely to change soon. Recalling Laurelle's stark disapproval of Skye's actions earlier, he looked pointedly at the thief. "Listen: this is a battle. People are going to die," he said as if to remind her before looking to Demi. "There'll be a lot of bloodshed, too."
"That doesn't mean we can't avoid it," Demi replied frustratedly.
"I do plan on taking Hendricks alive," Taras said at that. "But it depends on whether or not our friends want to as well." He turned to guard against a bandit approaching from an alley, muttering a weak fire spell to intimidate him as he shoved him back, and brought his sword down as the bandit blocked it with his own flimsy sword, the blade becoming bent under the other blade's superior weight. Taras kicked the bandit off of his feet and dealt a crushing blow to the head while he was down. Not like stabbing's even an option with this sword, he lamented as he feared Demi probably thought that he was using this bandit, who just happened to be the definition of cannon fodder, to make a point. Annoyed, Taras advanced to the front of the group to fight alongside Aaron's men, murmuring a slight ward upon himself like he always did.
 
Skye stepped up to lead the group, standing beside Aaron and marching in an even pace. Her steps were short and quick, and her face was set in an emotionless expression. Laurelle knew she hated blood, although she wasn't as phobic as Demi. The knight cast a ward, and took note of Aaron's shield. She murmured a longer incantation that ended with a jarring surge. Dust and soot on the ground began to be swept up into the air, whirling around the wind mage at an ever quickening speed as her personal hurricane gained momentum. Laurelle cast a ward of her own, making a point of ignoring Taras. She didn't want to acknowledge his point. She'd do things her way, regardless of his lack of empathy.

Skye stopped as she heard a surge that didn't originate from their group. A glob of flame came hurtling from a burning building even as several enemy soldiers ran up from a side street next to the house. The projectile flew into her wind-shield and was instantly caught, spun briefly in the air around the knight before the gale suffocated it and caused it to sputter out. The knight sprinted toward the enemy company, Aaron behind her. She came up on the soldier in the lead, her tornado neatly ripping his sword from his grasp as he attempted to strike her. She followed up with her own thrust, parting the wind in front of her with a thought to allow her own blade to pierce the shield. The soldier attempted to block with his shield, but she directed some of the wind behind her blade, pushing the enemy's parry upward. Her weapon stung his side, and she brought it up in a swift slash that tore across his shoulder. With a cry, the man fell.

Behind her Aaron stepped up a safe distance from her, firmly speaking a spell that caused a crack of sound, magical as well as material, that neatly flung his target's arms to either side of him and opening his defenses. The Arandish knight followed up with a swift hack that caught the gap in the man's armor at his neck, and blood spurted across his throat was ripped apart. Aaron turned to beat at another bandit with a furious barrage of blows, wearing against his shield and wearing him down.
 
Taras took the side of the front of the group opposite from Skye, augmenting the blade of his sword with a weak ice spell before making to shove a bandit but kicking him instead. He followed through with a broad swing of his sword, bringing it down against the bandit's... gauntlet. ... Hm. A schmuck who's smart enough to know that his little pokey-stick is going to break under my sword when it comes down onto it? We must be getting closer to—
He winced as he was shoved into the bandit in turn by one behind him, turning to face the spearman who winding up to strike before the bandit was zapped by a lightning bolt from Demi. I've got her cover-fire if nothing else, Taras thought dryly before lunging for the shocked bandit to bash him squarely in the forehead with his blade's hilt. I wonder exactly how much money Hendricks promised these guys. It was a strange thought to have as Taras circled around to face the bandit again and made himself a small javelin of ice with an incantation— not the most expected brand of magic in the midst of a burning city. Whether or not he could actually deliver on that promise, though... It likely didn't matter to Hendricks if he hired more men than he could pay for since the warlord likely already expected many of them to die. He probably wasn't bargaining on a simple city organising such a good defense, though, so... Taras threw the icicle, a small trail of sublimation making its way through the air to the bandit's collar as he finished the job with his sword.
I think idle thoughts too often. Now that was an interesting thought.
 
Fighting through another group of bandits, the squad emerged out onto the eastern end of the main road. There weren't as many troops as Skye expected, probably because they were all assaulting Fen's defensive fortifications. There was a motley group of soldiers gathered around a tall man in full plate armor barking orders. "Hendricks." Aaron said. Then he led his squad out onto the street, charging the warlord's troop from the side. Skye stepped up beside him, keeping a safe distance away so that her still-going shield of wind wouldn't interfere with him. She picked out a more heavily armored soldier who was attempting to flank them, rushing him and using her shield to her advantage, tossing him off balance and beating him back with a furious barrage of quick, light strikes. Finding an opening, she parried his own swing with her gauntlet before blasting his sword from his hands and driving her blade into the unprotected space between his neck and his helmet. Does no one here have the sense to wear a gorget?

"Demi! Stay back and help Skye."

Laurelle calmly strode past the bulk of the battle and the shouting and screaming, the blood and spells flying about. She circled around to where Hendricks was staying back, giving commands. Then, gritting her teeth, she sprinted toward him, sidestepping a swing of his mace then leaning over to grab his armored forearm. Then, with a thought, the two were gone.

They rematerialized in Prismsphere along with several of his soldiers who had been canny enough to follow her. However, this was her turf. Willing the Plane to obey her, she rose up the earth, pink grass and all, to encase her opponents as she rolled away from the warlord. It wasn't long before they figured things out and broke their imprisonment. Laurelle was ready. She shrouded the entire field in rainbow light, provoking a cry from one of them as she seared their eyes. While they weren't able to defend themselves, she dashed in and empowered her fist, relishing in the ease of spellcasting on her own Plane. She smashed Hendricks' mace out of his hand and scooped it off the ground, jumping towards another enemy and solidly bashing him over the shoulder with it. He crumpled, groaning, and she turned in time to avoid another strike as one of the warlord's lackeys blindly attacked her through the light. She slipped under his sword and grabbed his ankle, whispering a spell. Blue tendrils of light crept off her fingers and crawled up his leg, forming a thick layer of stone over his armor wherever they went. In a matter of seconds, he was a statue. Finally turning to the last henchmen, she gathered the light she had summoned with a thought and engulfed him in it. His scream confirmed her intent; she had practically just burned out his eyes. Ignoring him, she turned to Hendricks, stepping away from as he picked up a fallen spear.

It was only then the light mage got a good look at him. He was tall and, like Keyer, shrouded in plate armor. His face was invisible through his helmet, and he did not carry a shield. He didn't bother to speak as he stalked toward her. Which was probably a good idea. Speaking was a distraction on the battlefield. Gritting her teeth, Laurelle spoke a spell she almost never dared to use outside of the comfortable environment of Prismsphere. Her body and everything on her, even down to her mace, dissolved into a sort of light elemental, her physical form transitioning into a being of pure radiance. It was too bright to look at, but Hendricks shouted a spell, presumably to shield his eyes, and kept going. She ran straight toward him, her immaterial figure passing right through his weapon as he struck at her. She blinked back into corporeality as she turned to his flank, smashing the mace against his side. He turned to attack her and struck nothing as she once again passed into incandescence. This went on for several more minutes as she repeatedly blinked in and out of physical existence, beating him down with her blunt weapon. Finally, he dropped to his knees, his spear clattering out of his grasp. Panting, Laurelle let her spell end. Stepping up behind him, she clobbered him with a mighty blow of the mace, and he crumpled, unconscious. Dragging the other soldiers to him, she swiftly brought them back to the material plane where the battle still raged, although it was clear who was winning.
 
Demi nodded at Laurelle, moving to intercept several bandits who were heading for the group with a wall of electricity. Sending some ball lightning rolling to their right side to cut them off, she approached on their left to cast a bolt at each of them, two going down as their helmets attracted the lightning easily but the third remaining conscious thanks to some quick thinking: he had removed his helmet and thrown it toward Demi to divert the electricity from him and knock her back, the helmet hitting her armored chest and knocking the wind out of her as she stumbled backwards. She began a shaky recovery until the bandit, seemingly also a mage, blew her off her feet with a wind spell to skid against the ground.
Demi heard a tearing sound.
... and looked over her shoulder to see various items pouring out of her pack.
Medical supplies, books, tea kettle, blanket, extra hair bands— she forgot about the enemy warrior who was conjuring up a fireball as he advanced toward her and she bunched up her things in her arms haphazardly, leaning so that nothing else would fall out of the gaping hole in the pack. She felt it combust against her back right as she made the warp to Vada.
Almost immediately after she arrived next to her den in the wall-structure, Demi let the charred pack slide off of her back (one of the straps had broken off, to boot) and the things out of her arms, and turned to scream an incantation. The bandit was caught in a crackling purple mass as soon as he arrived, sparks flying everywhere and turning into electrical bolts in their own right thanks to Demi's demeanor and the dimension's omnipresent mist. She pushed him so he fell backwards; his head made a sickening crack as it thudded against a rock, life flashing away with the severe cranial impact.
She had told herself that she wasn't going to get so attached to a backpack...

Taras, who had plenty of practice in noticing that Demi's magical essence had crossed dimensions and divining his way into Vada after her, noticed that she had left the material plane as soon as she warped out but did not follow her until he had taken care of a few bandits who had been making their way towards Aaron: he had resolved to be visibly helpful in this conflict, although he was annoyed that he didn't get to tangle with Hendricks since Laurelle had warped off with the warlord. When he arrived at Vada, he found a body outside the wall of the Keep, as he seemed to recall Demi calling it, and Demi wailing into a blanket within. Her pack in a charred heap on the floor with her favorite little kettle sitting on top, it wasn't hard to see why.
"Sorry. You probably expected Laurelle and not me," he said as soon as she cast him a glance so filled with pain that it almost caused him physical harm. "But Demi, there's a battle going on, and... Look, you just need to put this on hold for a few moments; I know you c— Ah, shit." He turned and charged out of the Keep to tackle the two bandits who had divined him to follow him, warping them to Iceflow. As soon as they got there, he released them and clobbered the both of them on the head with his sword, the... interesting physics of Iceflow doing their work to make the force of the blade lethal before he warped them back into the material plane, holding his sword in front of him in a guard as the two bandits slumped to the ground near Hendricks. "That's most of them, then?" he asked, looking around for any other opponents before noticing that Laurelle was back and approaching her. "You... may want to check on Demi," he murmured to her as he waited for an answer to his question from Aaron or someone else.
 
Last edited by a moderator:
Laurelle watched the last few enemies fall, trying to ignore the atmosphere of death. War was a pointless waste of life. There was no justification to kill. It was never the sight itself that bothered the thief. It was the implications of it. That another human being had purposefully, with malicious intent, brought a weapon, magical or otherwise, against someone and had slain them. And too often, felt no remorse. It was sickening. Stepping away from a cloud of smoke as the wind changed, she delicately padded over a body, walking toward Skye. The fact that Demi was nowhere to be seen had only registered on her mind, along with the panic that came with that thought, when Taras passed by her. Her anxious mind racing, filled with all the horrible possibilities, she stuttered a little as she spoke a dimensional spell that would locate Vada's place and allow her to travel there. It was easy because she had been there so often, but it still drained her. Her weak connection was always a relevant factor in battle--most of the powerful spells the light mage could bring to bear were too exhausting to use practically. Hoping nothing serious had happened, she followed her spell's fading sound into Vada.

Laurelle's first thought was alarm as she saw the man slumped against the wall of the keep. She drew her daggers and crept silently across the stone, with the skill of a seasoned thief. She stepped inside, following the sound of her friend's tears, to find her huddled up in a blanket. Noting the destroyed pack, Laurelle sheathed her weapons and ran to the other girl's side, putting an arm about her shoulders and holding her close. Even as materialistic as she was, the thief would never quite understand Demi's affinity for objects. But that didn't mean she couldn't offer comfort. Platitudes of "it was just stuff" wouldn't mean anything, but a shoulder to cry on would mean the world. Laurelle leaned over and gently kissed her on the forehead. "I know how you feel, but now isn't the time, love." It was the first time she'd called her something like that before. It brought in a whole host of feelings the thief had never really felt for anyone. Everyone in her life had always either been a very negative presence, like her parents, or little more than a mentor, like the man who had taught her magic. She'd had friends before, but they were short-lived, literally or figuratively. Her profession was dangerous and a lot of people were killed or put away for good that she'd considered friends. Pulling herself back to the present, she let herself stare at Demi's face and take in the fact that she had a friend--more than a friend, who wasn't dead or imprisoned yet. And that was worth more than the wealth of the Four Kingdoms combined.

Aaron knelt beside Hendricks, making sure he was unconscious. Satisfied, he ordered his men to kill any other wounded of the enemy's and bind the warlord. He walked toward Taras as a soldier behind him plunged a dagger into the throats of the two unconscious bandits before producing a fine magical rope and tying Hendricks' hands.
"It was a full rout, but we suffered a few casualties." He reported clinically to the knight, answering his question. "But we can't really wait here for long, so I'm only giving your friends a few moments to return. If they take longer, we're heading out. They can take care of themselves."
 
Demi had finally controlled the wailing, abandoning the blanket (which would require a deep cleansing after all the ash she'd gotten on it) for Laurelle's shoulder, paying no mind to whatever other ash from the burning city might rest there. Now working on getting a grip on the sobbing that had succeeded the wailing, her thoughts became an order more rational as she dwelt upon what she had lost to utter wear, tear, burn, and a variety of other circumstances: the pack.

The pack that her mother had given her— no, entrusted to her. Her mother, just several months deceased, and what must have been her disappointed spirit looking on. Demi had fought for that pack: her father had wanted to get something smaller for her, something that would be light but only hold her schoolbooks and nothing more. It took a cunning conspiracy with her mother to make the pieces fall in such a way that she received that big, sturdy leather backpack from the market and not the dainty, unsuitable little cloth bag.
/Conspiracy/. Did that mean that the pack was a memento of deception? Of working against her own flesh and blood to get what she wanted? Her family had always been a lie and a paradox, her parents' marriage forged in secret and Demi born in secret against the wishes of her parents' own parents. So the web of deceit spanned multiple generations: it hadn't started with her, at least. So, then, was she just a distilled lie?

Demi held her breath, staying quiet for a few seconds to cut herself off from the thoughts. She felt herself trembling and became self-conscious again as she finally let it out, the breath hot against the already-warm shoulder, the shoulder of her best friend, the best friend who had just called her "love". It may have been that the judging spirits were still lurking as she was so sure they must have been; it may have been that Demi was a lie; it may have been that her mind made her a liability in making her value her things so much that she almost literally dropped everything and broke down as soon as they were destroyed beyond repair.
But Demi was still loved.
Her visage of sorrow cracked— and an uneasy smile forced its way on. She knew that Laurelle was right: tempting as it was to fall asleep in her arms weeping, they needed to return to the material plane at once. After nodding as if to remind herself that they did indeed need to go, she elected to allow herself one barely-audible murmur.
"If I can't even protect a backpack... Then how am I gonna protect you?"

"They'll be fine," Taras replied to Aaron, nodding. "They're a self-sufficient bunch, especially those two." As if on cue, Demi and Laurelle reäppeared some ways behind him, the flushed Demi clearing her throat and helping Laurelle up after she realised she hadn't bothered to stop huddling on the floor before warping back. "Are we ready to report back?" she murmured as they reached Taras and Aaron. She would be talking in only murmurs for a while, Taras knew. Against all his whims and instincts, he hoped for Demi's sake that Laurelle would stay stuck to the uneasy lightning mage like glue— though both of the women seemed exhausted beyond whatever point it was that exhaustion became too much for either of them. Skye, and even Taras, was downright chipper in comparison.
 
  • Like
Reactions: Valentyne
"Good timing." Aaron said. Then he turned back to his men and barked. "Move out!" The squad quickly slipped back into the side streets, passing uneventfully back upwards toward Fen's encampment. By the time they got there, it was clear that word of Hendricks' capture had spread up the lines, as the enemy forces had begun a barely organized retreat, knowing that they had little left to fight for without the warlord's gold. A collective cheer rose up from the ragtag militia Fen and Aaron had assembled. The Arandish knight looked them over critically. "Not bad." He said. "They could become real soldiers with a bit of time and a proper commander to whip them into shape." It seemed that simply fending off a bandit raid was not enough to impress the man.

The group, along with the soldiers carrying the warlord's unconscious form, walked back to Fen's command center. They dropped Hendricks unceremoniously on the floor. "We helped you." She said. "Now will you help us?"
Fen stroked his sparse beard. "The battle is over. You played a key part, I'll give you that. I'm open to suggestions on how I could repay you. You can take a small portion of the warlord's wealth, if you wish."
"We're not that interested in the gold." Skye said, glancing at Demi and Laurelle. "We're a little short of components for a ritual. The name Hawke means something to you, right?"
Fen leaned forward with an intense look on his face. It startled the knight slightly. "You have copies of Hawke's research? I only just acquired those yesterday myself. It's a decent trek through the woods from Cygnus to here. Lucky the messenger wasn't mugged by Hendricks on his way here. ...Yes, I have the components necessary. I'd be happy to provide you with them. I can spare."
"There's another thing." Laurelle put in. "We were told you were working on a formula to design persistent magical items."
Fen's eyes lit up. "Indeed! I'm on the verge of a breakthrough, but who knows when it will actually be completed. A copy is no trouble, if you wish to have one."
"I'd appreciate it."
The scholar produced a sheaf of papers from a drawer on the desk, handing them to the thief. It appeared he already had more than one copy on hand. She smiled and tucked them into her cloak.
"The day is still young, but I offer you my hospitality, if you wish to stay." Fen continued. "I will be questioning Hendricks soon, and you are welcome to stay for that and we can discuss what to do with his information, should he know anything valuable."
 
"I think we'd all appreciate it," Taras said to Fen's offer. "Although we do need to be on our way, we're in no shape to keep traveling right now." Demi reluctantly nodded as he glanced at her. She was so tired and also glad that Skye had stopped her from asking if they could check whatever treasure stash Hendricks may have had— he probably owned nothing that was interesting to her in the first place, and Demi's mind was still far more occupied with what she had lost, something that Laurelle was probably clued into by Demi's unconsciously squeezing her hand behind her back.
"You don't have to stay," Taras murmured to Demi, holding back a chuckle at how stoically she remained here even now that Laurelle had gotten the copy of Fen's plans. She once again nodded shamefully and proceeded to the nearest exit.
"Ask her about writing," he muttered to Laurelle, holding her shoulder to lean in. "She's real proud of 'em." After that, he gave her a jocular push back towards Demi. He thought he noticed them flashing away to Vada or maybe Prismsphere again as soon as Demi had rounded the corner, but couldn't be certain. "They've been having somewhat of a bad day," he said as he turned back, giving a what-can-one-do shrug. Now it was himself, Skye, Fen, and the various others making their way around the main room. "Always fun to watch another warlord squirm, wouldn't you say?" he asked Skye, as if toppling warlords was something they did as part of their daily lives.

Laurelle would find herself suddenly back in Vada, Demi clinging to her and looking sideways at the pack on the floor, which was still burned and torn beyond any hope of repair. Feeling tears rising again, Demi realised that she was back to square one. "It's just... a fucking backpack," she murmured in an extremely vain attempt to console herself, a tear running down her face to fall onto Laurelle's shoulder.
 
"They're an arrogant bunch." Skye noted dryly. "It's a pretty good feeling to knock them down a peg or three." She looked at the now un-helmeted Hendricks on the floor as a soldier stuffed a gag in his mouth. Some spells didn't require the movement of the hands, so muting him ensured he couldn't cast. It would be removed for questioning, of course. During the interrogation, if he uttered a word of an incantation, he'd probably be knocked out again.
"You make a habit of toppling warlords?" Fen said, proving he could talk like that too.
"This is only the second." The knight responded modestly.
"You should try Arandish nobles." Aaron put in. "They're a stubborn group."
"Estillians have them beat, I think."
"You ever been to Arandland during a civil war?"
"...No."
"Then trust me."

Laurelle held Demi for a minute, letting her cry, still forsaking platitudes in favor of the more tried and true method of comfort. Finally, she pulled back a little and said. "Demi." She forced a laugh. "We're both covered in ash." She brushed a little off the other girl's back. "We should go wash up, then we can meet back up the others. Sound good?"
 
"She doesn't give herself enough credit," Taras said of Skye. He had no idea if he was right given that he hadn't actually been present for Keyer's defeat, only come across the man's corpse after the fact, but it had been a job well enough done. Plus, drumming up accomplishments was always fun. "As for me, I haven't seen enough of war yet." He didn't mean just battle: he was lacking in large-scale experience, in experience of the sort of conflicts that dragged on for years rather than days. "I guess it's the destiny of an errant knight to wander about, hm?" he said with a glance at Skye, wondering how she would reäct to the suggestion... or how Aaron would reäct, for that matter, since the man looked so much like a former knight himself.

Demi nodded reluctantly at Laurelle's suggestion, but after they had washed themselves and put on fresh clothing she was brimming with the selfish desire to stay in Vada, to simply talk with Laurelle for hours and forget everyone else, to show her the greatest sights of the dimension and tell her all about herself and fall asleep in her arms. Although the destroyed pack was still laying conspicuously out in the open in the keep's small ground-floor room, Demi obviously showed no interest in moving the blackened, filthy thing now that she was clean. "One more minute," she murmured, absentmindedly playing with Laurelle's hair as she leaned against her, feeling slightly refreshed but still fairly drained. The minute elapsed all too fast, and when it was over she thought about demanding ten more... but even Demi at that time knew that that would be greedy. "Laurelle, I guess now isn't really the time to pour my heart out to you, but........ later tonight, maybe. There's... some stuff I wanna talk with you about." She sighed, giving herself an uneasy nod. It would be okay. She had suffered an unthinkable loss in the demise of her pack, but things would get better. No more tears, she thought as if to command her subconscious. "... Okay, I'm ready. We can go back now," she said with another nod, slightly more confident. Withdrawing the hand from Laurelle's hair, she slowly began to will their way out of Vada and back to the hallway just outside the room in Borok.
 
The questioning of Hendricks was brief and uneventful. He spilled the locations of several caches of gold, but they were all in dimensional pockets or very out of the way; nothing the group would care to seek out. Afterwards, Fen delivered the promised components to them and, while his militia was cleaning up the town, offered them supper. It was a simple meal, as you'd expect from a town like Borok, but it was satisfying enough. As the sun set, they were given lodging at a house whose owner didn't exactly have user for it anymore. The quarters were adequate; two rooms with two beds each. The beds were relatively well kept and clean, so it was obvious the scholar had put some thought into what he provided. However, before the group settled in, Laurelle caught Demi without Taras or Skye around.

"Hey. You said you had something you wanted to tell me?" She said quietly. Laurelle always spoke quietly, especially at night. It came from her occupation--you had to stay quiet as a thief.
 
"Yeah," Demi answered with a sigh, unsure of how to start. "It's... not really anything specific. I was just thinking: for a while I've felt like you've told me a lot about yourself, so I think I need to tell you more about myself, so... Sorry, that sounds selfish." She shook her head, clearly confused as to what she actually wanted to say. "Whenever I lose something or... get hurt real bad, I'm always just a liability," she continued, apparently having decided on something to say. "I wanna tell you why, or at least the best explanations I have for why. ... Even if it doesn't fix anything." Though she had been speaking in a relatively normal tone at first, her volume had gradually dropped to match Laurelle's. Somehow, it seemed appropriate to spill out her stories to her best friend quietly in the night, the moon being the only other witness in the city that just hours ago had been ablaze in battle.
... On second thought, she didn't trust the silent streets, and they were in Vada again.
 
Laurelle settled down, sitting against a wall of the Keep. She had shed her cloak earlier, and once again noted how pleasant Vada's atmosphere was without it. Prismsphere was colder, although it was certainly not cold. It had a very moderate climate that was a contrast to the low temperatures of Kosma. The thief enjoyed Vada's heat. "Alright." She said. "Maybe talking about it is the first step to fixing it."

-

Lavender slunk through the darkened streets. She had arrived at Borok early that day, in the middle of the raging battle. That wasn't an environment conductive to her task. The confusion and danger that resulted from such a skirmish made it difficult to find the target and bring them down. She had learned that the man she was looking for was commanding the forces. But his headquarters was surrounded by his men; she was never getting through them undetected to the scholar. Now, it was night. Now she could carry out her mission. Something else had come up, however. She had learned that the group she'd run into in Cygnus was also here. And that provided her with another opportunity. She was honest enough with herself to admit she was targetting them first not because of efficiency, but personal vendetta. She didn't like losing, even if she knew when to flee. Then, the odds had been against her. But now, she had the element of surprise. Now, she had a chance. Make it quick and clean, then be off and after the scholar.

She slipped out of an alley and pressed her back against the wall of their lodging, ensuring that they wouldn't see her if they looked out a window. She found her way to the back door. She could have cut open a better entrance with magic, but it would be too loud. She had previously cast a ward from a safe distance, but now she'd have to avoid spellcasting until it didn't matter. Drawing a long, thin, metal object from her robe, she deftly picked the shabby lock, gently pushing the door open and equally softly closing it behind her. A cursory search of the first floor confirmed they were on the second, and she quickly found a bedroom with the door slightly ajar. Tracing her steps, she went back outside to that room's wall. Sure enough, there was a window. Mentally hitting herself for not checking the windows first, she deftly scaled the wall (there was plenty of handholds) and peeked in the window. There were two of them; the rejected knights. The man was laying in bed, although it was unclear if he was asleep, and the woman was sitting in a chair, her back to the window, a book in her hands.

Bracing herself, Lavender pulled herself up, swinging from a hold above the window and hitting the glass feet first, breaking it and sailing into the room. Her ward protected her from the tiny shards of glass which would have otherwise torn her skin. As the woman turned around to meet her, Lavender chanted a quick spell, and the magic surged out through the air around her as she used force to pluck the knight's sword from where it stood sheathed against the wall. Casting off the scabbard, she launched it through the air at her opponent. However, the wind mage quickly yelled a spell that blasted it off course, causing it to deflect into a wall and stick there. The noise was like thunder--it jarred Lavender. This girl would be a pain to fight.
 
Demi sat next to Laurelle, the little indent in the keep's wall making for a surprisingly good seat. She noted that even from here, the view of the distant landscape was surprisingly clear— it must've been a breezy day in Vada. She knew that the winds and clouds that whooshed and rolled their way about had a pattern of some sort, but she had never had the time or patience to chart it out and make a proper calendar that adhered to the patterns of weather here. "I guess I'll start from the beginning," she said, taking a breath. "I wasn't born in Tavus, Estillia. Well, technically I was— that's what the certificates say— but I was really born in Zemlia... That was my mother's dimension. My mom and dad were both mages, but they weren't allowed to be together for some reason. Their parents, siblings— everyone related to them tried to keep them apart, so they basically said 'screw it' to living in the middle of all the judgment and built a house in Zemlia. It was a place full of yellow fields and big floating islands in the sky— there were big animals too, but they never attacked us. That's mostly where I was raised as a little girl, since my parents wanted to keep it a secret that they'd had a kid together. We had a tiny house in Tavus still, but we rarely used it." Demi listened to her own voice change in pitch as it cracked with nostalgia. She cleared her throat. "Anyway, when I got old enough to go to school... and my parents wanted me to become a mage too, since they thought mages were pretty much a higher level of person compared to non-mages. 'Course, I had no problem with it. Magic's still really fun when I can get it right, I think. So suddenly you had little, big-eyed Demi Sviatla marching to a young girls' academy each day with no way to hide it, and then of course you had rumors circulating like crazy, mostly about my dad. They eventually got so absurd I couldn't take it anymore, and— I was still, like, barely seven years old— but I decided to hold up my dad's name. You know, filial piety and stuff..." She couldn't help but smile as she recalled what she had done. "So one day in class, I heard the other kids whispering about me. So when the teacher wasn't looking, I climbed up on top of his podium and shouted 'My daddy's the bestest mage in the whole wide world, and anyone who thinks he's a bad man is a big, fat poopyface!'" Although this was originally meant to be a completely serious conversation, Demi couldn't help but stifle a giggle looking back on her young self. "I got put in time-out for a long time after that... Anyway, I finally got home— back to Zemlia, that is— but..." She took a breath, her demeanor shifting almost instantly. "My mom made me hide. Some hired thugs had followed my dad in, and none of us knew how many there were. I peeked out from the house sometimes to see how it was going— my dad was fending them off well enough, but there was one right in front of the house I was hiding inside that he didn't see. I knew he would be caught off guard if nobody did something. So I took one of my dad's swords from the house and..." Demi's brow furrowed, one of her arms moving to loop around Laurelle's and grip it. "I... I ran out of the house, screaming as loud as I could, and jumped the thug from the entry stairs, and then I... stabbed him and..." A gulp. "I thought I would feel like a hero, for helping my dad, but........ There was blood and guts everywhere, like an explosion..." With that, she was blinking away tears once again. "That was the first time anyone ever broke into Zemlia..." She remembered how she had imagined her mother's dimension as an impenetrable haven before the incident. "Probably... the first time I ever killed someone, too... I know I'm not the best at explaining, but— I still wanna tell you everything..." And she still had so much more to say, completely oblivious of what was unfolding in the material plane.

Taras jerked awake with a muttering fit of cursing as usual, but this time it was justified. Thankfully, he always kept his sword by him while he slept, an arm usually hanging off the bedside attached to the sword by the cord that he'd fashioned some time before. Observing Skye, and his opponent's tactic of using Skye's sword against her, he glanced at the doorway of the room, the other bedroom across from it seemingly empty. Demi must've gone someplace with Laurelle... Ah, well. She doesn't deserve this fight anyway. "You've made a grave error," he yelled at the assailant with aplomb. "Attacking knights in the night!!!" Hoping that his groan-worthy joke would distract the enemy for a split second so he could think of what he should do...
... he slapped a hand on Skye's shoulder and willed them off to Iceflow.

Taras wasted no time explaining as the two Estillians were deposited on a craggy hill, a cyan floe of cold-lava visible a short distance away and the silhouettes of large flying creatures visible in the sky. "She'll follow us here if she's after us; everything hits harder and flies further here so chances are she'll overshoot her target often. Wind magic will be just fine; the lava repels metal—" He was already making his way to the edge of the floe while staying relatively near Skye and muttering a minor ward incantation— "and stay together. She can't handle us both. If this doesn't work, we go to Zephyrhome." He did not want to fight this zealous assassin in the material plane, a plane with which literally every human being had familiarity and experience. "Can't use any thoughts here, but once we get there we can use the wind."
He steeled himself, gripping his sword's hilt as tightly as he possibly could with both hands as he waited for the assailant to reäppear.
 
Last edited by a moderator:
Status
Not open for further replies.
Top Bottom
Back