The Administorum
Battle Related Forums => Board Battle Archives => Board Battles => The Scrap Heap => Topic started by: Cameron on December 15, 2013, 02:55:17 PM
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Continued from Part 4. The last post from the previous thread is quoted below.
She hardly cried at all before this day, least of all where it was visible to others, but she could not help the tears flowing freely. The sorrow was so deep rooted in her soul that she could barely think. Even so, a thought floated across the void that this had to be something connected with the bond that her and her companion had shared, there was no way that being so in control of her emotions normally that she should be reduced to tears overwhelmingly.
She looked into his eyes the best he could but as he spoke
”I know he was innocent. His only crime was loving you, and of that, he could not help himself” , she squeezed her eyes shut, tears leaking and her sobbing increasing. Why couldn’t she get a hold of herself? As he spoke to her comment of hurting without care, she returned her gaze to him and as he spoke of unseen bonds her lips curled into a snarl.
“Who are you to speak of unseen bonds, you have no idea what you have done!” it was all she could do to get this out and even as she spoke she tasted the salty tears that fanned across her cheeks. Crusted blood flecked from her clothing and skin as she struggled to try to gain some dignity back, and stand.
Slumping against the wall, but at least triumphant in standing somewhat she glared at him as he took a seat on a wooden stool. In the silence that followed, she could not help but dwell on the broken bond and her friend’s last words to her. Steadily her sobs and crying grew louder, and the punisher takes his head in his hands, as if to block out what was happening. Finally, he speaks
“You must stop that, milady. Cease your tears!”
She but stared at him, almost incredulously. He had caused all of this pain, and he wanted her to stop crying? She wanted to stop crying too, gain some of her dignity back, but she could not force herself to stop. Her emotions were running away from her, as if trying to grasp smoke in the wind.
As he reached into his breast pocket and stormed across the room, Aeliana flinched, or rather, tried to flinch back from him as he thrust his face inches from hers
“You must… you must cooperate! You must tell us what you have found! Please! Save yourself! You know not what is at stake!
She tries to stop it, but a whimper escapes her throat as she tries to shrink back from the hand that reaches out. She was unsure what he was going to do, maybe take her tongue, gouge her eyes but at the feel of soft cotton on her face, tears fell faster in relief that no new pain was added. Her stomach twisted in disgust as he tried to dry her tears as if he were not the one who caused them. She could barely make out his whisper as he spoke to her.
“Her screams… Her screams are so loud here, milady. She is so close, but the injustice of her death prevents her from leaving the Marrow. I must grant her peace. She must be at peace. If you will tell me what you know, I can tell Fortuna, and she promised me she would stop her pain. She would let her be at peace.”
"Please, Lady Ebraldi... I do not wish to hurt you anymore. I do not want to kill you, but if you cannot be of use, then Fortuna will demand it. She will find some other way to get what she wants; perhaps even rip the memories from your dead body. One way or another... she will get the information she desires. The only difference is whether it will come from your lips or your corpse. She knows your power. She sees you as an asset; you are worth far more to her alive than dead."
Her mouth nearly dropped open as he continued to speak. Given something else to concentrate on she managed to stem the flow of tears, at least for now as she listened to him talk. Every minute he talked was a minute she was not dying, not in even MORE pain. As she listened, and he spoke, something came to mind, a possible way out of this maddening situation. She knew it was impossible to get into the marrow to free a spirit. Well, as far as she knew it was. She had not done much research there as she had in other areas, but maybe…
“I… Look.” She spoke quietly, near whispering herself. Tears were welling up in her eyes as she began to speak to him, her throat parched. “I cannot ever forgive you for what you have done. Despite your wish to not hurt me anymore” She coughed violently, wheezing as she caught her breath “What you have done will hurt me for a long time to come, more than anything you or your Fortuna could do to me…” She paused looking him in the eyes the best she could despite feeling like she was going to sick up. She wanted to make sure he was listening.
“But you know of my power too. Fortuna knows of my power. You know I killed one of you while being captured and possible two others” She had to pause a moment to swallow “Maybe…just maybe…. If you help me… I can help you…” She did not know what was going to happen or if she really wanted to walk this path, but the cold logic in her head said this might be the only way out now. Faustus had wanted her to live and she was going to live if she could do anything about it.
Proceed.
-
Yet again Siron experiences the familiar sensation of being flung through the air. He hits the ground hard and before he has a chance to stand up, Blood is already above him.
“You forget yourself, Siron Entrima…“
Honor rushes to aid the young knight and helps him to his feet. At this point Siron barely hears his words, the Childer is incredibly angry. He wants to shout in the captain’s face: And how would your son feel? Doing nothing, while his mother faces one of the most dangerous opponents an ageless can face! Before he is a mortal, he is a warrior, a warrior with pride and duty much like yours! Siron's teeth grind silently in his mouth, his fists tightly clenched, heavy breaths and eyes wide open. Every fiber of his body tries to hold him back, but it is Honor’s presence that calms him down. It was obvious he has spoken past his station, he had to hold his tongue, this was not the time to continue this argument and he has already said enough.
“We really need to work on your tact, Siron. I have never met someone so willing to poke a sleeping bear.”
Siron smirks lightly and whisper, “On the other hand, the bear could use some work on its temper as well.”
After settling the conversation, he stands on top of a bucket and his hand reaches for the dark object.
The knight feels movement in the water, but before he could react to what was happening, he a sharp pain shoots up from his fingers and he pulls his hand out of the water. A black snake has bitten him. He shakes his hand violently, but the serpent doesn’t let up. Suddenly, an odd feeling envelops him and all his movement seizes.
“Olgrim! There you are! ...Oh dear…”
Siron looks down and sees his legs trembling, yet he feels nothing. His eyebrows twitch slightly, an indicator showing he had just attempted to speak, but his face was already numb and unresponsive. The knight neither feels, nor notices the drool coming down from his mouth. Ciar’s promptly delivers an antidote, which seems to be doing its job and after the effects of the poison are neutralized he gets back on his feet and looks at Ciar.
“Are you telling me you actually have something stronger than this!? Even a mortal can kill an immortal with this kind of stuff!” At this point, Siron tries to move to a chair and fight off the fatigue and tension, his body accumulated from both, the poison and flying. After resting for a few moments, his expression changes from one of exhaustion to one of confusion.
“Uhm guys, something just occurred to me,” he gives everyone in the room a few seconds to direct their attention to him. “If Aeliana is mortal, how did she kill one of Fortuna's forsaken?”
-
Fjorin sits down with Lai, places the parcel gently beside him, and waits for her to finish. She always was a wordy one, and often impulsive in her thoughts - one flowing in before the other was even finished. It made conversation easy; there was little pressure for Fjorin to say anything clever or extensive. It helped his thoughts flow freely.
As she speaks, Fjorin's brows furrow with concern as Lai speaks the words, "One of you."
He pauses for a moment, trying to assemble the words in his head before he speaks. Fjorin turns a palm upward, and unbuckles the furred gauntlet on his right arm. The pauldron follows shortly after, falling to the ground with a clank. What is revealed is an arm covered in countless scars. Punctures, cuts, burns, and stitches are apparent on this single limb.
"I lost count of the men I'd slain somewhere after five hundred." He raised the arm, his eyes seemingly lost in each cut - each holding a memory. "I was seventeen then." He clenched his fist, and as if through a window in time, he stared at his callused knuckles. "Five hundred abysses in the lives of mothers, fathers, wives, daughters, sons, brothers, sisters, friends... five hundred, created by these hands."
He rested his arm in his lap, and looked to his friend. "You say, 'one of you.' Lai, you became an Ageless at the same moment I did, and whatever you may have done in the past... I know there are those in Avalon who have done the same if not worse than us both. We have all committed evil. We are all monsters, in whichever form we may come."
The familiar sensations of the ground shaking and the sound of armor slamming into the floor arose as Captain Blood bickered with Sir Siron. Fjorin's chest shook briefly, letting out a small chuckle.
"...Besides, it seems even the purest of us will find themselves at the receiving end of Captain Blood's wrath." Fjorin's eyes met Lai's, and almost instantly retreated to the ground. "You will be liked in time, Lai. You are talkative, you are fun, you are clever, you are..." The warrior stopped short in his words as he seemed to lose track of the focus of conversation.
He sat straight up suddenly and let out a breath, as if clearing his thoughts.
"Just... quit acting like you're not one of us."
-
There is so much going on that Sig is having a hard time following it. So many new people and new revelations. Things are kind of fuzzy at the moment and Sig is having a hard time focusing... oh wait.
"Whups."
Sig takes a long pull on one of his ale skins and then looks around.
"Ah, much better. Now let's see what-"
Sig is startled as Blood shatters an hourglass. He watches her pluck the note out of it. Smart find. He is even more impressed when Blood reveals the hidden hatch.
"Hidden tunnels, eh? Might be nice to be back underground for a bit after gettin all this fresh air!"
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@Siron:
The mortals and Ageless alike turn to look at Siron. Confusion registers on all of their faces, save for one, that of Captain Blood.
Blood’s cheeks flush crimson. “I think we’ve done more than enough talking. Now is the time for action. We need to get moving and soon. Aeliana has been in the hands of the Forsaken for far too long as it is. We cannot endanger her life any further. We must be moving.” You get the feeling she is being deliberately evasive, though you can’t fathom why.
“You know something, Mother. There’s something you’re not telling us,” speaks Vartan quietly. His eyes lock onto those of his mother.
“I know many things, Vartan.” She tears her gaze away from him, turning her back to the group and her eyes towards the hatch that will lead to the tunnels. “What I know at this moment is we need to get Aeliana as soon as we can. We’ve tarried here too long as it is.”
@Fjorin:
Lai blushes in response to Fjorin’s compliments. “You… you really think I am all of those things?” She sits in thoughtful silence for several moments. Her hand reaches towards Fjorin’s shoulder, her fingers delicately tracing the raised lines of the scars that mar his flesh.
“I will try, Fjorin, though I am still trying to learn to be anything but a Carnis. I think I’ll get there eventually, but not without your help. Thank you for being such a patient teacher.”
@Sembas:
Some time has passed, and Sembas, still conflicted by the whispers he heard in the woods, sits in silence. Dennan claps him on the shoulder. “I suppose there will be time to talk later. I have a feeling we’re going to be leaving here very soon.”
@All:
Blood paces the floor. “When we seize Aeliana we must move, and move quickly. We must not forget; we still have a mission to complete. The mage’s confinement has complicated matters considerably.” Blood turns to her son. “Our journey must lead us to the Marrow, and it is no place for mortals.” Blood reaches to her pack and sifts through its contents, her hand closing around a rolled up piece of paper. “We will take out any resistance in the area and liberate the mage and her guardian. The area will be warded to prevent things from going in, but not from going out. We will continue on our way to the Marrow while the Crimson Wolves accompany Aeliana and her guardian back to Avalon through the gates.” Blood places the paper into Lene’s hand.
“Fenwick possessed the ability to summon the Seer. It was in this way we were to be extracted from this area when the time came. Unfortunately he is gone, but this is the failsafe. Casting this spell will summon the attention of the Seer. She will open the gates for you. Take care with it because it can only be used once, and the gates will not long remain open.”
“But Mother… How will you return without this?” questions Vartan, the worry apparent in his voice.
“When you get back to Avalon, tell them everything that has transpired here. Let General Fury know we have continued our mission. The General will find another way to get us back to Avalon.”
Vartan nods in understanding.
“Askall, are you able to keep up?” questions Blood.
Askall nods, his green eyes almost glowing in the dim light of the chamber. “Dennan’s healing has helped. I can follow, though I doubt I’d be very capable in a fight just now.”
“None of you will be fighting,” Blood’s gaze contacts each of the mortals that comprise the Crimson Wolves. “Dennan will get us to the surface. We’ll have you stationed in the chamber under Headsman’s Hill. Dennan and Fjorin will bear Aeliana and her guard down to you. As soon as they are with you, you use that scroll and get the hell out of here.”
Blood turns to the rogue, Ciar. “Ciar, might I requisition a bit of that poison from you?”
“Certainly!” responds Ciar, grinning. “I know you Ageless types are typically reluctant to use it, but given the circumstances, it couldn’t hurt. Even if you can’t strike a blow to kill the Forsaken up there, wounding them will be enough to remove them from the battle. Maybe even take them out while the paralysis sets in.”
“No,” replies Blood firmly. “If I am to take their lives, it will be on my terms. I will not strike a foe who can’t fight back. That is the way of a coward. Even so, should I get close enough to Fortuna, I plan on using this. The other Forsaken, you may kill on sight, but Fortuna… she is the source of Severan’s power and knows all of his secrets. In the slight chance I can get close enough to strike her, I intend on taking her prisoner. We can learn much from her.”
“Now, we can wait no longer. Prepare yourselves.”
-
@ Aeliana:
Punisher shakes his head, his shaggy, black hair falling over his striking, blue eyes. “I care nothing for your forgiveness my lady. Her forgiveness is the only thing that matters. As for your pain, you are mistaken. If you remain here… if Fortuna gets her hands on you again… There are many fates far worse than death. These she has promised me if I fail in my task.”
Punisher does not seem surprise when you make mention of killing a Forsaken, despite your mortal form. “I know your power, milady, but Fortuna has no equal. I do not doubt she will return soon, and if you don’t give the information she desires… I pray your maker receives what is left of your shattered soul.”
There is noise in the hallway and Punisher snaps to attention.
There is a voice, a man’s voice. You have come to know it as belonging to the other Forsaken who guards your prison. You have seen him leering at you from the safety of the doorway from time to time, but you do not have the slightest idea what he is called or how he came to be here. “Azazel! Our mistress is en route. Lord Severan has received that which he has been waiting for.”
Punisher gently places his hand upon your shoulder, his eyes staring directly into yours. His voice is scarcely a whisper. “That is a good omen for Lord Severan, but I guarantee, it will be a bad omen for all who oppose him.”
Footsteps in the hallway draw closer to the room you are being held in.
Again the Childer’s voice. “If the trap worked, that means the Ageless are in the fields. There is no sign of them thus far, and we have a considerable vantage here. The wards will keep them from entering the compound.”
Punisher raises his voice enough so his companion can hear him. You can see reluctance, and sadness in the eyes of your guardian’s executioner. “Has the mistress given any further orders for the prisoner?”
Again, the voice of the Childer comes, closer this time, and while your swollen eyes inhibit you from seeing much of him, you catch a glimpse of his shadow in the doorway. “I told her through the orb that the prisoner is still unwilling to cooperate. Needless to say, Lady Fortuna was most displeased.”
The color drains from Punisher’s face. “Am I to complete my task then?”
The shadow in the doorway shakes its head. “No. Our mistress has asked that you wait to continue your task in the hope that Miss Ebraldi will come to her senses. And if she does not… Then the Lady Fortuna asks that she watch as you sever this woman’s soul from her body.”
All the while, Punisher has not turned to face the man in the doorway. His eyes are locked firmly on you. “Thank you. Then I will continue in my work. I will make her speak. Perhaps by the time Lady Fortuna arrives, I will have the information she has requested.” His expression is apologetic and he mouths the words, “I am sorry” to the ignorance of his companion. “Isn’t that right, you red-headed whore?” Punisher’s fist careens towards your stomach, yet at the last moment, it doesn’t quite connect. This feint is convincing enough that the man in the doorway smiles in glee before disappearing down the hallway.
The footsteps eventually disappear and you and Punisher are left alone again.
Punisher’s words are a hurried, yet hushed whisper. “Those Ageless don’t know what they’re in for. We expected General Fury would eventually send a scouting party to assess this area. It was a matter of time. When Fortuna arrives, they won’t stand a chance.”
Punisher runs a hand through his black hair. Beads of sweat dot his forehead and his hands are trembling even as they hold fast to his axe. “I wish to believe you, I truly do, but if what you say is true, then you can easily kill me as soon as I free you. I care not if I die, but I refuse to relent in my purpose. I must save Kella’s soul. She has suffered for far too long and my… my…” Punisher’s eyes fill with pain. “Our child… Fortuna tells me he is there as well… why shouldn’t he be? He was cut from the womb of his mother… of my Kella. Just a babe! Never to live as a child should! Never to be held in my arms! Instead, condemned to the Marrow for the atrocity of his demise. Why? How can a god who is good, a god such as the Divine, let such a thing happen? How? How can he allow me to spare her life only to condemn her to death and torment in the Marrow? And my son… how could a benevolent god allow the spirit of an innocent child to be tethered to the Marrow?”
Punisher’s chest heaves. “I want to help you, but you have not the power to enter the Marrow. No one does! Save for Fortuna! She made a deal with the Lord himself, him who you might call the Adversary. Yet, who is more an Adversary to me? The god who would allow me to free my wife and child, or the one who turns a blind eye to their torment?”
“I do wish to help you; your spirit is free from the sins of this world, save for your insatiable lust for knowledge, and I find that forgivable. But if I help you, I condemn the woman I love, and the son that was torn from my life, to a fate worse than death.” Punisher clasps his head with his right hand. "Even now I can hear her screams in my mind. It is all I can hear."
-
She listens with rapt attention as he talks, paying attention the best she could to his body postures, his tone of voice, what he says and his facial expressions.
She was not going to fail now that she had him at least talking to her. She noted that he did not turn when talking to the other forsaken. The other would pay some day too, for what his part was in this. At the word that Fortuna was coming here, she could feel herself tensing against the restraints and she unconsciously tried to draw on her magic, causing pain and blood to flare anew.
Trap? This was new to her. She was unsure of what to think of this, having not heard anything of this until this point. Not that she would be privy to such information, but people often talked around others that they thought we be of no consequence. She met punishers gaze though, best she could through puffy eyes. She picked up the reluctance and sadness in his eyes as he asked if there were any further orders for her. She was relieved to note that he was not to kill her at this very moment. She stares blankly as punisher is told that he would be ripping her soul from her body should she not cooperate.
”I am sorry.” He spoke to her in a whisper as he responded to his companion
"Isn’t that right you red headed whore?” He snarled loudly at her, for his companion to hear and a fist was suddenly flashing towards her stomach.
She tensed, and even as she realized he didn’t actually connect, the threat of it was enough to make her jerk and let out a real yelp, as if she HAD been hit. Thoughts ran through her head. The ageless were coming here. They were being led into a trap. If only she could do something about that. There were wards here, she could have gotten rid of them had she not been chained up like a dog. Her face tightened up in frustration as he continued to speak and softened a bit at the mention of his child being stuck in the marrow as well.
“How dare you say I would turn on you after giving you my word, you were a man of honor and justice once, you know what your word had meant, you must know what my word would mean as well. I say what I mean.” She virtually snarled this at him.
“You speak in fear” She growled quietly “You would throw the fate of your Kella and child at the feet of Fortuna? She may be powerful, but nothing is impossible. You are keeping me captive with some little hope that she will free them once this has been done, yet if she is as cruel as I hear, she may well keep them locked up just because it is her whim of the moment. Who is to say that SHE will release them, that SHE will keep her word? If you truly wish to help me as you say, free me. I can help you. We can get out of here and I can find a way to free them from Fortuna’s grasp. We can allow her to rest finally, her and your child both.” She was clinging desperately to weeds while hanging desperately over the edge of a cliff, trying to pull herself back.
-
“Well, what you have to say can’t be any worse than this. You wanted to speak with me. Let us tend to this now. What has been bothering you, Sembas? You’ve been distracted as of late.”
Sembas looks from Dennan to the rest of the group. Fenwick is Severan's son? It is a striking statement.
“That… just… that doesn’t even make sense! Severan hates humans!”
“Well… maybe for a night he didn’t.”
The Falconer recalls something Jonas mentioned about a little town frequently visited by Severan. A town the Forsaken leader has left unmolested for as long as Jonas could recall. Could this have a connection to Fenwick?
The whispering in his head drown out any coherent thoughts he has. He winces and shakes his head, trying to dispel them. Concentrating is proving difficult as his thoughts jumble about his head.
“Come, Sembas.” Dennan gently steers him towards a table in the corner of the room. His large friend comically nearly collapses his chair, before producing a flask of home-made honey mead.
Sembas takes a swig, following his friend. The mead hits his tongue and begins working its magic. He sets the flask back on the table and leans back in his chair, finally allowing himself to let go.
He thinks on Archer's warning from before. It seems that her warning is not so much a secret anymore. It is well known by now that Fenwick has been taken by the Forsaken. It would also be folly to think that the Forsaken were not aware of their presence in The Marrow.
The Falconer nods in his realization. There is nothing to be alarmed of, the only thing to worry about is his weak constitution. His golden eyes widen when he realizes just how much time has passed while his head has been in the clouds.
Dennan claps him on the shoulder, less gentle than before. “I suppose there will be time to talk later. I have a feeling we’re going to be leaving here very soon.”
He stammers, finding his voice once again. "Erhem... I, uh..." He coughs, finding his voice raspy from unuse.
"I'm very sorry, Dennan. It seems that The Marrow has enjoyed clouding my senses for much too long. Have you-" He pauses, hesitating to continue his question. "Have you been hearing whispers? It began with faint voices barely loud enough to catch my ears. It crescendoed with Archer calling out frantically in warning, clear as day." He punctuates his last sentence with a frown. "I believe they've gone, hopefully."
"Either way, your honey mead worked wonders. I feel like my feet haven't touched ground for some time now. I seems to have planted them firmly once again."
-
@Aeliana:
Punisher looks at you incredulously, as if you are the embodiment of insanity. “You are mad to think this could be so easily resolved. Of course I speak in fear! Only a fool would not fear Fortuna! I fear her more than I fear Severan himself, for everyone knows… it is Fortuna that is the true power of Darastae. Even such a powerful man as Lord Severan pales in comparison to the Lady Fortuna.”
Punisher casts a glance behind him to ensure the Childer isn’t still lurking about. “She may be cruel, but Fortuna is a woman of her word. If she says she will free my family, then I know she will. If I would release you, even if I would trust your word, you have no knowledge of the Marrow… no way to free my wife and child. With Fortuna I have surety… with you… a glimmer of a chance. To let you go, I would have to take a leap of faith that you could even help me. Again, I care not if I die; I do not fear death. But if I let you go, and Fortuna strikes me down, then I have abandoned Kella and my son to the Marrow forever. That is a risk I cannot take lightly.”
@Kitharsis:
Dennan’s expression is thoughtful and he considers your concerns in silence for several moments. Finally, he speaks, and his low, rumbling voice is just loud enough that only you can hear. “No… I cannot claim to hear these things you mention, but then again, my thoughts are not so easily affected. My WILLPOWER allows that supernatural occurrences, spells, compulsions, the like, have little effect upon me.”
“Every day we are here we draw closer to the Marrow. It is a place that will test you in both mind and body. It seems its grasp is even more far-reaching than we had previously expected, and it is already trying to claw at your conscience.”
“Your concerns are valid, but consider this: were these words truth, and Archer sincerely was worried enough to grant you a warning, I guarantee she would be before us already. She would not let you wander blindly into trouble. She would have made haste for these lands immediately without a second thought. You are far too dear to her.” He claps you on the back, offering a sympathetic half-smile of reassurance.
“Keep your wits about you, Sembas. I do not doubt these whispers will continue, and I do not doubt the Marrow will find even more intensive ways to put you to trial. You must be resilient in the face of these tests. It has long been said within the Marrow is a denizen beyond our comprehension. Whether it is innately evil or not, we are unsure. Many who have passed through these lands have claimed the feeling of being watched or influenced to do, say, or think things they never would have fathomed. Whatever it is, perhaps it has settled its eye upon you. Don’t let it in, Sembas, and most importantly, remember you are never alone here.”
-
Siron listens to the captain trying to dodge the subject. As he stands up, he prepares to push the subject further, but after taking a glance at Honor, he sighs and reconsiders. “If the captain had information that would aid us, I am sure she would have told us by now.” The knight moves slowly and gets next to Honor’s shoulder. He leans in closer to his ear and whisper. “She would have told us right?”
“Now, we can wait no longer. Prepare yourselves.”
“Speaking of preparing, any heads up on what to expect from the guys Fjorin mentioned and Fortuna in particular?” The young man’s question was addressed to Honor, but anyone in the room should have been able to hear.
-
Aeliana speaks quietly, near whisper almost as if to herself.
“Courage is not the absence of fear… but action in the face of fear…”
She shakes her head at the punisher and looks up at him from behind puffy eyes.
“I will never believe a word that that woman says. She is going to use your family as leverage to keep you under her thumb. It is the way of tyrants” Her voice was hard, though gravely from dryness. What she wouldn’t give for some water.
“So… what you are doing. You captured me and Faustes, you tortured him and killed him” Unbidden tears start to leak from the corners of her eyes. “And you did this because your family is trapped in the marrow. You take from the living to give to the dead. You hurt me more than you could ever know, you killed an innocent man – You said so yourself, all because you hope that the woman who trapped them in the marrow is going to release them? You are deluding yourself and if you continue down this path you are no better than her.” Her words cracked like a whip and the silence that followed was almost deafening
For a moment she was silent, trying to gather her thoughts. You could almost hear the tears drip to the floor. The blood had continued to dry on her dress, making it stiff and uncomfortable. She blinked and spoke to him again.
“You know, we were best friends since we were children.” She did not look down at the body now, it was too painful to do so. “I always had my studies and he had his, but we remained close even when we thought that our paths might take different turns. He protected me when I could not protect myself, always. I protected him from things that he could not touch with the blade. We grew close, as friends do, as those who save each other’s lives do. I bonded him, through my magic. We knew each other better than we knew ourselves. He fell in love with me, and unbeknownst to me, I did with him, though I would not let myself know it.” She shook quietly, grasping at the control of herself she so often wielded.
“And here, because you decided that you would follow a tyrant, an evil woman who would do terrible things to ensure your loyalty, I lost him before I truly had him. You are responsible for that, as much as you say it is your orders. You are responsible for taking love away from me, for something that might not even be granted for you.”
She took a few deep breaths to regain her composure.
“But not all is lost. Work with me. Work with the ageless. I can find a way into the marrow, perhaps they can help me. You are doing nothing but tearing lives apart for the glimmer of a promise from a woman who I would not trust in any situation, under any circumstances. Help me, help yourself, help your family. Together we can do this, I know we can. Together we can escape, we can warn the ageless and free your family.” She hated herself for saying these things to her guardian’s killer, but she needed to get out of this alive if she was going to kill Fortuna.
-
@ All:
Vartan shrugs. “There have been various Forsaken coming and going, mostly Childer. Some we recognize by name or reputation, others we don’t.”
“Fjorin’s information should prove to be fairly useful. We’ve seen Coward and Punisher several times. Fortuna is rarely every seen without Blackheart at her skirts. She’s taken the young woman as an apprentice, so if Fortuna is there, I have no doubt Ravana will be as well,” speaks Lene.
“You’ll want to take care when within the confines of the wards,” adds Askall. “Should you be removed from the area, knocked across or otherwise, getting back in will be impossible. You’ll pretty much be stuck outside of the compound for the duration, so don’t get too close to the perimeter. Should you be cast out, those wards are extremely powerful and though you won’t die from their effects, they have the capacity to send you flying headlong into the ground. The charge is enough to render an Immortalis unconscious.”
“Take a wide berth from Navar Coward. His work with poisons rivals even mine,” explains Ciar. “He likes to stick to the shadows. He’s a slight fellow, small and seemingly inconspicuous. He doesn’t strike you as much as a threat upon looking at him, but nothing could be further from the truth. He’s stealthy… has a way of sneaking up on people. He’s apt to strike then immediately retreat. Doesn’t like to stay in hand-to-hand range. What he possesses in speed and dexterity, he lacks in physical strength. If you can close with him, he’d be easily enough overpowered. Just be careful. Rumor has it he’s got all kinds of nasty toys hidden in his armor.”
“Most importantly, you avoid Fortuna at all costs,” orders Blood. “You see her coming, you get the hell out of there as fast as you can. You’re a snack for a ravenous beast like her, and I guarantee, she’ll have no qualms with stringing you up by your innards if it pleases her.”
Blood gestures to Dennan. “Dennan will open the earth for us… elevate us to the surface and guard the opening. Honor, Siron, and Fjorin… you’ll secure the prisoners. My guess is Punisher is probably guarding her. Get to Aeliana and her guardian. Get them freed immediately. As soon as you do, you make your way back to the opening. We get Aeliana and her guardian down to the Crimson Wolves and back to Avalon.”
Blood turns her attention to Sembas. “Sembas, you’re pretty quick. Your abilities and Anlaf may give us an advantage,” speaks Blood.
“Hey! What about me?” cries Chico.
Blood rolls her eyes. “Well, if we need any cheese dispatched, you’re our man.” She turns her attention back to Sembas. “You key on Navar Coward. He might like to slink about in the shadows, but that’s going to be harder for him to do with a bird’s eye view. Just be wary of those wards. You’ll know if you get too close. They give off an ever so slight sound… a soft crackling… If you start to hear it, then you’ve gone too far.”
“Sig, you’re strong in constitution, and I have no doubt your gifts from Alviss will be helpful here. You key on Ravana Blackheart.”
“Lai, I want you to help Dennan in keeping the opening clear. Nothing gets past you.”
Lai nods obediently.
“And be sure to-” Blood stops abruptly. She and Dennan exchange glances. “You hear it, too?”
Dennan silently nods. Blood gestures for him to make his way back to the entrance they had originally used to the bunker. Moments later, Dennan returns, but he is not alone. The mountainous son of the Archon and the General is flanked by a skeleton. A large, jagged crack is present on his skull, and as he speaks, his raspy voice demonstrates his weariness.
“Captain… I come on behalf of… Osir… Osiris… We are holding them off as best we can… trying to delay them… but he sent me to warn you… Fortuna is…”
Blood nods in understanding. “She’s arrived.”
@Aeliana:
Punisher listens to every word you say, his attention rapt. Sorrow is plainly present upon his features, and despite any hatred you may have in your heart towards your guardian's killer, you can't help but to feel the slightest bit sorry for him. He stands before you, crippled by his indecision. He appears as if he is about to reach for the cuffs that bind you, these jagged shackles that cause the blood to flow freely down your wrists. Your body feels so weak and each breath you take is agonizing.
Suddenly, the wooden walls behind you begin to vibrate wildly. Punisher’s ice blue eyes grow wide and his face pales considerably.
The words that escape his lips are the last thing you want to hear. “She’s here…”
-
@ All:
Osiris’s messenger quickly departs to return to his companions, and the Crimson Wolves quickly gather their belongings.
The hatch Blood uncovered leads you through a winding network of tunnels. Despite the confusing layout of the area before you, Blood seems to be able to follow the map exactly, never once having to backtrack or stop to question the path. It is not long before you find yourselves in an enormous chamber, the same that is marked to be under Headsman’s Hill on the map.
The chamber’s sparse contents are covered in layers of dirt and cobwebs. There are a few remnants of rotting chairs and there are a few old torches collecting dust in the corner. Unlike the previous chamber, this is devoid of any amount of small comfort. There are not tables, bookshelves, or anything else to indicate someone had attempted to make the area as home-like as possible. This definitely appears to have been some kind of staging area for the first assault on Headsman’s Hill so long ago. You can’t help but to wonder exactly what Dethys had done in this place to change the tide of the battle.
You follow your Ageless leaders to the center of the room while the Crimson Wolves look on in silence. You can see the worry present in the deep creases of Vartan’s ageing face. Though his eyes sparkle with excitement, there is sadness and reluctance in the turned down corners of his mouth. His worry for his mother is evident, and the same sadness can be found lurking in the shadows of Blood’s own grim expression. It is apparent she is reluctant to leave her son’s side, especially after his absence and their recent reunion.
“Remember what I told you,” reminds Blood. “As soon as you have Aeliana and her guardian in your care, you get them, and yourselves, out of this place immediately.”
Vartan nods obediently.
Ciar steps forward. “Here…” He places a small vial into Blood’s outstretched hand. “If you get close enough to Fortuna, it should do the trick. Be careful though. Even if you can knock her out, I don’t know how long it’ll be until she wakes up again.”
Blood nods in reply. “Thank you, Ciar.” Blood turns her gaze to Dennan. “Dennan… I think it’s time.”
Dennan lumbers forward and stops in the center of the room. He crouches towards the ground and places his hands in the dirt. “It’ll take me a few moments. Once it starts, be sure to keep your footing. We’ve got a long way up and it will make for a nasty fall.”
A strange, glowing, brown light, accented with flecks of green and amber emanate from Dennan’s hands and seem to feed into the earth before him, causing the area of ground you are standing on to tremble and quake in reaction to whatever it is he is willing it to do.
Vartan rushes forward, his arms wrapped firmly around Blood’s neck. “Be careful, Mother.”
Blood offers a rare, but dazzling smile for her son’s sake. “I always am.” She winks. “Go, Vartan. This journey is not meant for you. Your road leads back to Avalon. I’ll join you there soon.”
Vartan nods. He manages to let go of his mother, but with a great deal of reluctance and a heavy heart.
“Blood…” Dennan’s voice, guttural and strained brings Blood’s attention back to the task at hand.
Blood immediately becomes all business. “Alright. This thing’s going to move fast. As soon as we hit the surface, get to your positions immediately. We can’t waste a single second.” She gestures to the only mage currently in attendance. “Lene. We’re ready for you.”
You watch as Lene’s form is enveloped in a radiant, violet light. Her hands move before her in strange swirls of motion. Around all of you forms a small dome, some type of forcefield meant to protect you from the earth above.
The ground below you begins to vibrate even more violently. You can see beads of sweat erupt from Dennan’s brow as he uses his WISDOM to cause the earth to move.
“Won’t they feel the vibrations?” asks Honor.
Blood shakes her head. “We’re too far below the surface for them to take notice. They might hear us coming just before we break through, but by then it will be too late. We’ll have the advantage.”
The ground below you begins to levitate first a few inches, then a few feet off the ground.
Blood puts her hand on Dennan’s shoulder then gestures for Honor to do the same. The hands of Blood and Honor begin to pulse and glow with their own light and you quickly realize what is occurring before you. The Elder Immortalis are lending the General’s son a bit of their own power to bolster his own.
The earth under your feet explodes upward, a rapidly ascending platform that propels you towards the surface.
@Aeliana:
Your worst fears are coming to pass. With a glowing sense of doom, you begin to realize that your window of departing this place has just slammed shut. Punisher’s eyes close, and you can tell he is just as unsettled by this news as you.
Within moments, footsteps can be heard down the hall. They quickly draw nearer and you know in your heart that Fortuna, the High Sorceress of Darastae walks with a purpose, and that purpose is to see to your end.
Through your puffy eyes you can just make out her slender form in the doorway. You had known of Fortuna for some time, simply by reputation of her cruelty and power alone. Only recently had you been unfortunate enough to meet her face to face, and in that meeting, she incapacitated you with the same ease that a child would discard an unwanted ragdoll.
You had put up a valiant fight when three Forsaken, including Navar Coward, had come to capture you. All the while, your guardian had valiantly done battle with your foes, keeping them at bay as long as he could, but it was obvious his skills were outmatched. He managed to hold the stairwell of the ancient library you had been exploring, but eventually he was overtaken by Navar Coward. It was then they were able to make their way to you. One of them you managed to severely wound with Riven Earth, and a second had, at least from what you could see, been instantly killed by your Lightning Spell. How a mere mortal could have killed an Immortalis would be a point you deem worthy of consideration should you ever escape this place. Coward had managed to wound you considerably, his knife leaving a nasty gash across your forearm. His ability to hide in the shadows and move with incredible speed had allowed him to take you surprised several times. However, even he had been violently expelled backwards with the force of your Stun spell.
It was only then that Fortuna decided to join in the fray. In fact, rather than appearing angry that you had dispatched her companions, a smirk of amusement had affected the corners of her lips. Her pale skin was a stark contrast to the deep purple hue of the floor-length dress she wore. Her red hair cascaded over her shoulders and her brilliant green eyes practically glowed in the dim light.
“I thought you might be reluctant to accompany us… In fact… I rather hoped you would be.” Fortuna had spoken.
You could see the malice in her eyes and attempted to cast your Shield spell, but Fortuna was too quick for you. With a simple flick of her finger, you found yourself seized by the ankles by some spectral force and ripped upside down into the air. You attempted to wriggle around to try to right yourself, but found yourself completely unable to move, absolutely paralyzed where you dangled in the air. Fortuna walked towards you, muttering some unfamiliar words under her breath, and in her hands appeared the binds that hold you even now. You could not resist as she placed them around your wrists and there they have remained since then.
“My Lady,” Punisher bows deeply before Fortuna.
“My, my… You look much worse for the wear, Aeliana. You really should make more of an effort to take pride in your appearance. You look like a horrid mess. I wouldn’t even dishonor the death hounds by feeding your sorry form to them. I’ve a feeling they’d turn up their noses at your hideousness.” Fortuna crosses her slender arms over her chest. “I’ve grown quite weary with you. It is obvious you do not intend to cooperate.” Fortuna seizes you roughly about the throat, slamming your head against the wall and causing your vision to blur.
Fortuna’s blood-red lips curl into a sneer. “Which is why I will relish watching Punisher work. Hmph! Look at you. There were many who thought you might even be the final piece of the Archmage Trinity. Cleo, the Seer. Dethys, the Scribe. And you… they said you, with all of your vast knowledge, could be the Scholar. The last piece of the puzzle…” Fortuna laughs with derision, contempt present in her voice. “But I can see it in your eyes. Even now, the blood flows down your wrists and pools upon the ground. You are dying, and where is the Divine to intercede on your behalf? What comfort have you here in your final moments?”
Fortuna bends forward and collects something from the ground by your feet. You realize with dawning horror what she is holding. “Even your dear companion can’t offer you words of kindness now.” She places one hand on his chin while her other hand dangles his disembodied head by the hair. She begins to move the chin up and down, making it appear as if he is speaking. Her voice changes, and in her words, you hear the perfect impression of your late guardian’s voice. “Oh, Aeliana. If only you’d given them what they wanted, I would be alive, but instead, you let me suffer and die for you.” Fortuna’s own voice returns. “Some friend you are, Aeliana. Well, I suppose I can use his skull for a rather fashionable goblet. He’ll be of better use dead than he was alive.”
“So tell me… did you really care for him? Does your heart hurt to see him with another woman?” Fortuna presses her lips to Faustus’s cold, blue dead ones. “Well, does it?”
You want nothing more than to hurl all manner of insults at this woman, but you find your voice paralyzed by certainly supernatural means. She cares not to hear anything you have to say, and you guess that the only thing she will allow to escape your lips are your final screams.
You set your jaw in defiance, your eyes glaring into hers. Without warning, Fortuna holds Faustus’s head aloft and slams it into the side of your face, causing your neck to snap to the side. Your whole body aches and you are coming to terms with the truth of her words: you are dying.
“I must say, Punisher, I have been having a rather vexing day. Surely the Ageless will be here soon enough. I have Ravana, Navar, and the Childer guarding the compound and keeping an eye on the area. They will surely emerge from the woods. Osiris and his men were obviously attempting to buy them some time. We dispatched them rather quickly, save for Osiris himself and a few of his men who retreated into the earth. I feel I need some levity in my life, so her death must suffice for my entertainment.” Fortuna smiles widely. “Alright, Azazel. Make it hurt. I want to hear her scream.”
@All:
The chamber is impressively tall, but within seconds, you make contact with the earth above. Luckily, the forcefield that Lene put in place protects you all from impact with the ground above. You watch as you are propelled through earth and rock, and moments later, you explode through the surface. Dennan forces the platform to the side, leaving the gaping hole below exposed in order to prepare an easy extraction for Aeliana and her guardian.
@Aeliana:
Punisher, his axe in hand, make his way toward you. His eyes are cold and devoid of compassion. His expression is blank and uncaring. Without another word he swings his axe forward. Screams erupt from your lips and your body tenses for the agonizing pain to come. A shock reverberates through your body as you find your binds have been severed in two. The cuffs are still attached to your wrists, but you feel their power evaporate and the smallest bit of magic slowly returning to your form.
Deftly, Punisher whirls on his heels, his axe trained on a stricken Fortuna. “RUN!” His voice explodes from his lips.
Outside, you hear a loud, roaring sound and fear grips your heart as you wonder what you may encounter outside. You stumble a few steps forward as Punisher’s axe embeds into Fortuna’s side, and pins her form against the wall. The shock is present in her eyes and you can see her hands glow as she tries to muster an offensive spell. You have only moments to escape, but you feel your feet fail beneath you as you collapse to the ground. You feel strong arms scoop you into the air and you find Punisher is holding you against his chest as his form thunders forward at a breakneck speed.
Behind you, back in the chamber you were held in, there is an eruption of flame and a primal scream that carries Fortuna’s fury to your ears. Your body feels progressively weaker and you realize you are not long for this world. These are your final moments.
Punisher heads towards the front of the building. You near the doorway and he lowers his shoulder, slamming it into the door to break it apart and allow you both to make your escape. Instead of the satisfying crunch of splintering wood, there is a flash of blue light and you are both thrown violently backwards where you land hard upon the ground.
Your vision is blurry. You turn your head to the side and can see the advancing form of Fortuna.
“I knew you were weak, Azazel. Your heart is too soft. I knew her honeyed words would corrupt you with compassion,” taunts Fortuna. Fortuna steps over you, and you see she is holding Punisher’s axe in her hand. “My this is a fitting death, Azazel. The Punisher must be punished, and when I am done with you, I will see to Aeliana’s death myself. Oh... and Azazel.” She bends her head lower to whisper into Punisher’s ear.
He fights to writhe away from her but it seems as if his entire body is paralyzed and unable to move.
“I will be sure to give your regards to Kella and your poor, dear son. Their souls will be a fitting sacrifice to our cause.” Fortuna spits down upon him, her saliva adhering in a shining glob upon his cheek.
You can feel your life slipping away as your heart slows within your chest. The blood pours from the wounds upon your wrist and you begin to lose consciousness. Suddenly, a strange current begins to course through your entire body. Your form is enveloped in a brilliant, golden light. You feel your wounds close and heal, your strength renew, and your power return to your body.
In your mind, a deep voice, so brilliant and full of kindness that it causes tears to appear in the corners of your eyes. No one else appears to react to the words that follow, as if only you are able to perceive it.
“Aeliana, you have suffered much to ensure the information you hold does not fall into the wrong hands. Your sacrifice will be rewarded. You have been chosen by the Divine.”
@All:
Outside, you and the Ageless immediately spring into action. Dennan and Lai take their places around the gaping hole in the earth in preparation to dispatch any who draw too near. Honor beckons for Siron and Fjorin to follow him towards the rear of the compound where prisoners would likely be held. Blood pauses in her tracks and seems to be trying to sense something. Her eyes close for just a brief moment, and when they snap open again, you can guess she has managed to discern Fortuna's location. She heads in the opposite direction of Honor, Siron and Fjorin. She appears to be making her way towards the front entrance of the building.
"Navar!" You hear a woman's voice somewhere behind the building and moments later a beautiful young lady with raven-black and a form-fitting black dress appears before you. She is flanked by a pale figure with short dark hair and even darker eyes. There is a black hood over his head and you can correctly guess this is Navar Coward.
Sig and Sembas immediately move to intercept their marks.
Honor, Siron, and Fjorin reach the rear of the building. Honor takes a running start, slamming his shoulder into the wall. His exceptional strength opens a gaping hole through the wooden planks and the three of you find yourselves in what appears to be a torture room. There is a body upon the ground, recently relieved of its head, which has been discarded nearby.
"I think we may be too late," speaks Honor, his face pale. His eyes search the room. "That was likely Aeliana's guardian, but there is no trace of her. She must still be in the compound. We need to move!" Honor moves to rush through the door and bids you to follow him. "Quickly and quietly, let's go." He moves towards the doorway and begins to lead you down the hallway. There is a loud commotion towards the front of the building and you can hear a woman's voice jeering at someone named Azazel.
Honor stops in his tracks, his voice a whisper. "Fortuna... Take great care and do not draw too close to her, or it may spell your doom."
You enter a large room. You can still hear Fortuna taunting her victim further down the hall. In the dim light, you see that this room leads to another narrow hallway, and through there, you will likely find Fortuna in the room that follows.
As you make your way across the creaking floorboards, you notice Honor's shoulders stiffen. "Someone's here," he whispers.
Right on cue, a shadow emerges from the hallway in front of you. Before you stands the Childer Immortalis that had been stationed in this place with Azazel Punisher. In the dim light, you can just make out a set of rather familiar features, as the man who stands before you bears a striking resemblance to his younger brother.
"Hello, little brother."
Recognition dawns upon Siron's face.
Catujel.
-
"Navar Coward, got it." Sembas replies to Blood. He scratches Chico's head with his pointer finger in reassurance.
The skeleton's arrival brings with it less than fortunate news. Fortuna has arrived, escalating the danger of the mission by a great deal. Nevertheless, the prisoners must be rescued, and the Forsaken must be dealt with.
He follows the group as Blood leads them through the winding tunnels. As he walks he addresses Anlaf and Chico.
"Coward sticks to the shadows, preferring to fight unseen. We'll need all the eyes we have tracking him. Anlaf, keep your distance from above and watch his every move. Chico, when you get a chance hop out of my pocket and take some high ground. I don't want you to get caught in between us if he gets too close."
Dennan manipulates the ground below them and Lene casts a shield around everyone. Before long, the ground underneath erupts and propels everyone upwards, exploding through the surface. The earthy platform slides to the side of the hole, and Sembas leaps off.
Anlaf immediately takes to the sky, using Sembas's arm as a springboard. He flaps away stating disapprovingly that he, "Prefers to fly above ground rather than below."
"Navar!" a woman screams. Sembas snaps his head to her direction, seeing a pale figure with short dark hair and darker eyes. His black hood is covering his head. Sembas flips his green hood over his own before knocking an arrow.
He channels his WISDOM spell Leash Arrow into the arrow before releasing it. The arrow is aimed to the ground next to Coward. Upon striking the ground the Leash Arrow attempts to latch onto its target, not allowing Coward to move for more than a footfall or two's length away from it.
Meanwhile, should his Leash Arrow fail, Anlaf is keeping his keen hawk eyes focused on Coward. He is wary of the wards. Chico has already scurried down from his pocket and is making his way towards one of the buildings nearby.
-
She breathed slowly, each breath bringing sharp jabs of pain. She appeared to have said some words that struck home as Punisher did not respond right away. In fact, unless she missed her mark, he was struggling with indecision. She did not dare to let herself think that she might get out of this, but unbidden, hope slowly crept into the back of her head as he seemed to be reaching for the cuffs.
That small hope that she had felt shattered, however, as the wooden walls behind her began to vibrate and Punisher’s eyes went wide.
”She’s here…”
Aeliana closed her eyes and sighed gently, her hopes flooding out of her with her breath. Where there had been hope, a sense of doom grows. She knew she was not going to make it out of this alive. The only thing she could do was face it head on, and retain as much of her dignity as possible. Taking a deep breath, ignoring the jab of pain she felt shooting through her chest, she opened her eyes.
As soon as Fortuna stepped through the door, she would meet her gaze, her eyes not wavering. She wanted to show this woman she would not be completely broken, not matter what she did. Fortuna’s reputation had come to her, and she knew that her death would not come quick. This woman had powers beyond anything she had ever seen. With the way she had pushed back the woman’s companions, she had thought that maybe she had stood a chance, but she knew now that she could not stand up to her as she was.
It felt almost as if a knife were twisted inside of her when punisher bowed to Fortuna, though she had no idea why she should even feel that way.
“My, my… You look much worse for the wear, Aeliana. You really should make more of an effort to take pride in your appearance. You look like a horrid mess. I wouldn’t even dishonor the death hounds by feeding your sorry form to them. I’ve a feeling they’d turn up their noses at your hideousness. I’ve grown quite weary with you. It is obvious you do not intend to cooperate.”
Aeliana could do nothing but meet this monster’s gaze, and even that was nearly taken from her as the woman grabbed her throat and slammed her head back against the wall. Spots swam in her vision and she fought to remain conscious. Fortuna continued, not allowing her any reprieve
“Which is why I will relish watching Punisher work. Hmph! Look at you. There were many who thought you might even be the final piece of the Archmage Trinity. Cleo, the Seer. Dethys, the Scribe. And you… they said you, with all of your vast knowledge, could be the Scholar. The last piece of the puzzle…”
Confusion passed across her mind. Some people thought that? Well, no matter, even now, she was going to die. Fortuna laughed contemptuously at her.
“But I can see it in your eyes. Even now, the blood flows down your wrists and pools upon the ground. You are dying, and where is the Divine to intercede on your behalf? What comforts have you here in your final moments?”
She spoke true, even now thick lifeblood dripped to the floor. Her stomach clenched painfully as Fortuna bent down to pick up the head of her companion. She felt like she was going to throw up right there.
“Even your dear companion can’t offer you words of kindness now.”
She placed one hand on the chin of the decapitated head while her other hand dangles his disembodied head by the hair. She began to move the chin up and down, making it appear as if he is speaking. Her voice changed, and in her words, you hear the perfect impression of your late guardian’s voice.
“Oh, Aeliana. If only you’d given them what they wanted, I would be alive, but instead, you let me suffer and die for you.”
Fortuna’s own voice returned.
“Some friend you are, Aeliana. Well, I suppose I can use his skull for a rather fashionable goblet. He’ll be of better use dead than he was alive.”
Shock spread through her. There was nothing she could do, nothing she could fight and that spread hopelessness throughout her being. It was all she could do to meet Fortuna’s eyes.
“So tell me… did you really care for him? Does your heart hurt to see him with another woman?”
Fortuna pressed her lips to Faustus’s cold, blue dead ones.
“Well, does it?”
She had been mad. She had been angry, frustrated. Now, however, rage like she had never felt welled up in her chest. She wasn’t sure how she was going to do it, but she was going to kill this sick bitch. She was going to make her pay, even if she had to figure out a way back from the afterlife. Glaring into her eyes, Aeliana’s own green eyes smoldered. Though they were puffy and sore, if looks could start fires, Fortuna would have been incinerated.
Out of nowhere, a blow came from the side, the decapitated head of her guardian used as a weapon to strike at her. Her head snapped to the side painfully. Nothing could quell the fury she was feeling, but she knew something that would inevitably quench it. She was dying. It was odd; she always had thought that her death would come quick, probably in some sort of explosion or the like. It was the danger she faced, working with magic, but never did she think that she would find herself in the situation she was in now.
“I must say, Punisher, I have been having a rather vexing day. Surely the Ageless will be here soon enough. I have Ravana, Navar, and the Childer guarding the compound and keeping an eye on the area. They will surely emerge from the woods. Osiris and his men were obviously attempting to buy them some time. We dispatched them rather quickly, save for Osiris himself and a few of his men who retreated into the earth. I feel I need some levity in my life, so her death must suffice for my entertainment. Alright, Azazel. Make it hurt. I want to hear her scream.”
Her gaze drifted to punisher as he stepped toward her. She met his cold eyes bravely. Perhaps she had been wrong about him. Maybe he wasn’t the man he said he had been. That hurt more than it should. His axe starts its deadly arc, and unbidden a scream came to her lips, and she tightened her muscles expecting the sharp sting of metal cutting flesh. Where she thought she would feel the biting sharpness of the axe, she heard the ring of metal on metal, and blessedly her arms drop. Slowly she feels the beginning of her power seeping back into her as she looked up into Punisher’s eyes. The cuffs were severed from the wall…
”RUN!” He bellowed at her as he spun, slinging the sharp axe at Fortuna with wild fury. She nearly flinched as a roar from outside reached her ears and
anxiousness wracked her. She had no idea what was going on, but she needed to get out of here. With a satisfying thunk, the axe takes Fortuna in the side, pinning her to the wall and Aeliana can see the power gathering as she prepares to unleash hell upon them.
She drags her feet along, taking a few steps, but she feels her strength slipping. She had lost too much blood. If she tried healing now, she would very likely kill herself. Aeliana slumped to the ground and let out a frustrated cry but was suddenly scooped up. She realized that punisher had left Fortuna then and picked her up and was fleeing as she herself wanted to.
A scream of fury like she had never heard followed by an eruption of flame bellowed forth from the torture room that she had been held in. Aeliana felt like she should be doing something to help punisher, but she could not bring herself to do so. It was not that she did not want to aid him now, but she could not. She was growing weaker.
The corridor slipped by as Azazel ran towards the door that led to their freedom. He lowered his shoulder to break down the door, but as it connects with the wood, there is a blue flash of light and both he and Aeliana are thrown across the room violently. She can do nothing to protect herself as she skids along the floor, finally coming to a rest. Her vision slides in an out of focus, but she caught sight of Fortuna advancing on them.
“I knew you were weak, Azazel. Your heart is too soft. I knew her honeyed words would corrupt you with compassion,”
Fortuna stepped over Aeliana as if she were nothing. It was then that she saw Punisher’s axe in her hand. She was advancing on the man who, despite torturing her, despite being tortured himself by concern of his family, had given up what he felt was the surety that his family would be saved by this woman in order to break her free and here she was, weak as a day old kitten and getting weaker.
“My, this is a fitting death, Azazel. The Punisher must be punished, and when I am done with you, I will see to Aeliana’s death myself. Oh... and Azazel.”
Fortuna bent down to whisper in his ear. She barely caught the words.
“I will be sure to give your regards to Kella and your poor, dear son. Their souls will be a fitting sacrifice to our cause.”
Fortuna spit on him, leaving a glob of saliva on his cheek. If she could have cried, she would have, but even as she lay there blood seeped out of the wounds in her wrists in droves. She started to feel lightheaded and slip into unconsciousness. She knew she would be gone in moments.
Even as the thought crossed her mind, however, she felt an odd current of power flowing through her, different than that of her magic. She felt and saw herself being enveloped in a brilliant golden light. She could feel coherency seep back into her mind as the wounds all over her body seemed to close and heal. She felt her strength returning and the power that she had been denied by Fortuna return in full. A voice spoke to her, seemingly only to her, as no one else reacted to it.
“Aeliana, you have suffered much to ensure the information you hold does not fall into the wrong hands. Your sacrifice will be rewarded. You have been chosen by the Divine.”
The rage that she had felt before, she felt it returning. Opening her eyes wide, she glared at Fortuna’s back from where she lay. She was slowly approaching Azazel with his own axe. Thoughts flickered through her head. She could easily escape now while Fortuna was preoccupied, and it was a very tempting option. However, right there in front of her, Azazel had defied Fortuna for her. He had removed the binds that held her to the wall and allowed them to make it this far.
She had no idea what she had been chosen for, or why she was still alive, but at this point it mattered not. She made her decision.
She virtually sprang to her feet, feeling better as good as she had before she had been captured. The rage was burning in her heart at this woman, though it was tempered somewhat by the fact that she had been handily defeated before. Perhaps if she were to distract Fortuna, Her and Azazel could create a diversion and get out of here. It sounded as likely to lead to death as succeed, but she would not leave him here. She had her word to keep.
Power coursing through her veins, she drew deeply on the energy surrounding her. Every fiber of her being flared with her magic as she felt it sweetly pass through her. She had had no idea how much she had missed the feeling until this moment. Focusing her rage and the great power at her disposal, she looked to Fortuna who was not quite to Punisher yet. She had to get her away from that course. She needed something that would push her away. Something with the most physical force she could muster.
With a silent snarl, small embers sparked around her hand as she began to cast Blossoms of Fire . Fortuna seemed far enough that if she placed the blast correctly, neither punisher nor she would be hit. She raised her hands into the air, the embers sparking into a blaze and finally she threw them forward, the sticky flame leaping from her hands in a small ball of liquid flame.
As the flame neared Fortuna it expanded suddenly and violently. A deep knell, like that of a large bronze bell, echoed throughout the complex as the spell burst. As the flame expanded, it appeared if only for a second, like a flower blooming. Both the force of the white hot flame exploding and the force of the sound threatened to shatter glass and throw other objects and people around.
-
Sig had been listening when he was told how dangerous his target was, but her appearance still catches him off guard. Outright attacking a pretty lady in a black dress really isn't Sig's style. But even as he thinks this, he's already moving. Hesitating here could mean his death, and Sig knows that Ravana's appearance is more than likely meant to throw off her opponents in that very manner.
Sig brings his lute into his hands, noting Sembas springing into action to his right. He will allow Sembas to focus on Coward for now, but he still wants to keep an eye on that fight in case the lad needs his help. For now, he focuses on the femme fatale before him, strumming his lute. She isn't the only one who can be disarming.
"Ah! Hello, lass! Care for a SONG?"
Sig ends the sentence by shouting the word "Song," and the power of the All-father lashes forth from his mouth. A fist of energy should strike Ravana and knock her to the ground (Wisdom-Spiritual Magic [STRIKING BALLAD]). Even as the spell finishes, Sig is already moving forward. He shifts his lute into his left hand as his axe enters his right. He leaps (Strength-Damage [ONE-HANDED AXE]), and if Ravana hits the ground, he will attempt to bury his axe deep into her skull.
-
Siron listens to the mortals’ information on the Forsaken. Their addition is useful and he also takes note of Blood’s warning and orders. The appearance of the skeleton afterwards, bears a grim significance. With Fortuna closing in the chances of success decrease dramatically, but none the less they must attempt to rescue the prisoners.
As the captain leads them through the underground passage, the young knight finds it odd that Blood never looks at the map or questions the path, it almost seems like she has been here before. Perhaps this will be something he would ask of later.
All of the immortals gather in the centre of the room under Headsman’s Hill. The crimson wolfs stand and watch, as their allies prepare to depart.
“It’ll take me a few moments. Once it starts, be sure to keep your footing. We’ve got a long way up and it will make for a nasty fall.”
Siron nods and crouches slightly, this lowers his center of gravity and gives him a better balance. The shield Lene casts on them startles him a bit. Embarrassed he quickly gets back into his stance. The moment the earth starts to shake and rise, the knight’s eyes fill with excitement yet again. He looks at Blood’s and Honor’s strange auras, bolstering the abilities of their beast like friend, with curiosity. Before he has a chance to observe any further, however, the platform propels itself upward and delivers everyone to the surface promptly.
As Dennan pushes away the platform they came on, Siron quickly jumps off and lands on one knee. He scrambles back up and takes a quick look around. Seeing Honors gesture to follow, he rushes towards him. Fjorin joins them and they make their way to the back of the building where the lieutenant of the fierce legion makes an improvised entrance through the wooden wall.
The three man team emerges in what seems to be a torture room. In there they find a decapitated body, Aeliana’s guardian most likely.
"I think we may be too late. That was likely Aeliana's guardian, but there is no trace of her. She must still be in the compound. We need to move! Quickly and quietly, let's go."
Honor seems to think the same of the body they found and the trio continues down the hall in search of the missing sorceress. Voices can be heard coming from the front of the building and Siron follows the lieutenant, while trying to keep the noise he makes to a minimum.
"Fortuna... Take great care and do not draw too close to her, or it may spell your doom."
Visibly tensed, Siron continues to follow Honor’s lead, as they creep closer and closer to Fortuna. A hallway away from the room she resides, their advance stops abruptly.
"Someone's here," Honor’s words make him stiffen, as he strains his vision and hearing to determine where the enemy is.
"Hello, little brother."
A familiar voice reaches the young knights ears and he hardly believes. The dim light scarcely illuminates his futures, but Siron knows them well and he could not be mistaken. This was his brother Catujel.
“Bro…,” the young man’s voice slightly trembles, but he takes a moment to steady and quiet it down. “You…,” tears begin to drop from the knights eyes, they drip down his helmet and on to his breastplate. His head lowered, he continues slowly. “I doubted Gustav and what he said, I hoped he lied,” sadness could clearly be heard in his voice, even though it was quiet and steady. “But you are here, here with the Forsaken no less!” The knights steadies his rapid breathing, reaffirms the loosening grip on his shield, clenches the handle of his mace even more and rises his head up. “Stand aside Catujel! Get in our way and I will strike you down myself!”
-
Fjorin's voice thunders from behind Siron. "We've a task at hand. Worry not, you may speak in Avalon..." His brows lowered and his blue eyes became cold. "...I shall leave his head intact."
The black mane of the warrior flowed behind him as he stormed forward with his blade cocked backward. As he approached his target, he slammed his foot to the ground, and unleashed a mighty swing which took full advantage of his monstrous reach, the torchlight of the building flickering as his blade stirred the air.
-
@Aeliana:
Aeliana is suddenly reinvigorated by the intervention of the Divine and a visible shudder runs down Fortuna’s spine. Her head snaps upward so that she may focus her wicked glare towards the once-mortal mage. Aeliana’s Blossoms of Fire catches her unaware, and the fiery bloom seems to engulf the entirety of Fortuna’s unsuspecting form.
With Fortuna’s focus broken, Punisher is able to recover his faculties. His movements are somewhat sluggish as he attempts to recover from his recent paralysis. When the Blossoms explode, Punisher’s axe is knocked from Fortuna’s grasp. It flies through the air where it lands with a heavy thud, inches from Punisher’s outstretched hand. His fingers clasp the handle of the weapon and he draws himself to his feet.
The flame dissipates from where Fortuna stood, yet where there should be a battered mage, there is no clue to account for her whereabouts. Punisher’s eyes glance around the room wildly, trying to decipher where the Sorceress of Darastae has disappeared to.
Aeliana feels compelled to turn around, sensing something behind her. When she does, she finds herself face to face with a very furious Fortuna. Fortuna’s mouth opens in a high-pitched scream, and her bone-chilling cry is accompanied by a burst of flame, absorbed from Aeliana’s own Blossoms of Fire.
Punisher closes the distance with astonishing speed and before the flames have the chance to damage Aeliana, Aeliana finds herself shielded by the immense blade of Punisher’s axe.
@Sembas:
Sembas looses his arrow and the projectile hurtles towards Navar Coward. Coward’s golden eyes narrow beneath his black hood and Sembas’s keen gaze notes a strange shimmering around the man’s form before he seemingly disappears into thin air. There is no trace of him anywhere, but Anlaf’s screech alerts Sembas of impending danger.
Unbeknown to Sembas, Coward has inexplicably appeared just behind the falconer. Sembas feels a rush of air against his back as one of Coward’s daggers is thrust towards him. Navar’s strike is aimed directly towards Sembas’s spine, and will likely connect if he fails to respond to the attack.
@Sig:
It is obvious that Ravana is unfamiliar with Sig’s unique method of melodic attacks as her eyebrow raises in confusion at his offer of a song. Her eyes widen in surprise as she is sent flying backwards by Sig’s Striking Ballad. She lands heavily upon the ground and attempts to quickly regain her composure as the Chosen of Alviss sets upon her with his axe.
Violet light envelops her form, and as Sig’s axe connects with her skull, the mage seems to be entirely shielded from harm. Rather than the axe being buried into her skull, the blow is immediately reflected back in the direction it came from. Sig is forced to contend with a powerful strike from his own weapon.
Ravana uses this opportunity to scramble to her feet and quickly retreats from melee range with the Chosen of Alviss.
@Siron and Fjorin:
While Siron struggles with the sudden reappearance of his brother, Fjorin moves to take matters into his own hands. He quickly closes the distance between himself and Catujel. He swings his two-handed sword forward, and Catujel raises his longsword in an attempt to parry the blow. However, as Fjorin’s sword impacts Catujel’s blade, the latter’s eyes widen. Fjorin’s blade flashes, and the boon of the Blood-Warden General takes effect, overpowering Catujel’s parry and knocking the second son of the house of Entrima back several feet. Catujel staggers in an attempt to regain his footing.
Rather than attempting to attack Fjorin in return, Catujel holds his blade flat in his outstretched hands as a sign of submission.
“Siron! Call off your companion!” cries Catujel. “I do not wish to harm you, brother!” You can sense sincerity in his voice, and it seems he is being genuine. “I cannot let you pass, but not to aid Fortuna! I know her power, and if you incur her wrath, she will kill you! Get out of here while you can, Siron! Please! You have to believe me! I knew nothing of Gustav’s plan until it was too late! Once he killed you, he set upon me! That is how I came to be here in the first place! Yes, I sought out the Forsaken, but they promised to help me take my revenge on Gustav! They pledged to help me retake our kingdom! I will not let Gustav make a mockery of our father's legacy! He calls himself king! He sits upon a throne that is bathed in the blood of our father!" Catujel shakes his head in disgust. "Please, brother!” His words catch in his throat and his lip quivers with emotion. “Get out while you can!”
Honor looks to Siron. “I wish I could help you in making this decision, but it is yours and yours alone to make. He is your brother, Siron. If you wish him dead, then I will help you to end him here and now, but consider his words. If he is being truthful, then his only crime is giving in to his own desire for revenge. However, you, too, once had such heaviness in your heart. You were able to relinquish your need for vengeance, perhaps your brother is, too.”
-
Fortuna turns to glare at her as Aeliana casts, but Aeliana scores a direct hit with her fire blossom, sending punisher’s axe flying. She dares not get her hopes up, Fortuna could not be defeated so easily, but perhaps this would slow her down. As the flame clears, Fortuna is nowhere to be seen. Her eyes narrow as she surveys the scene. Fortuna disappeared after direct hit, Punisher gazing around worriedly for their quarry. He looked a little worse for wear, but was moving.
She spun at feeling there was something behind her, and her instincts proved correct. She suddenly finds herself face to face with Fortuna. Her eyes widened a fraction as Fortuna screamed in a high pitched screech that was accompanied by the flame that Aeliana had thrown at her. She did not have time to weave a shield, the only thing she could do was try to dodge.
Before she could throw herself to the side, punisher was in front of her, having reclaimed his axe. He threw it up in front of them to deflect the flames. She needed to get them out of here, they could not last in a toe to toe fight with Fortuna. Maybe with Fortuna a bit distracted by Punisher and casting her own spell, she could land one of her own to buy them some time.
Behind punisher, the view of her hidden by his frame, she puts her hands inches apart from one another. Red and gold energy started to spark and crackle between her hands as she concentrated and then in one swift motion with a loud crack, she ripped her hands apart, flinging the energy outward. Two bolts of energy curved around punisher to collide with Fortuna in a roar and a punch of physical force as Aeliana unleashes Intelligence[Spell] – Stun
-
Golden eyes narrow at each other as Coward's form shimmers and disappears. Sembas's arrow hits it's mark, but Coward is no longer in range of the Leash. Anlaf screams from above, alerting the falconer that the shadow master is directly behind him.
(Dexterity - Dodge) Sembas deftly attempts to dive away from the dagger threatening his back. The classic backstab, he could expect no less from one named Coward. If successful, he tucks and rolls upon hitting the ground, springing back to his feet facing Navar.
Deciding that a bright, open area would serve to his advantage, Sembas runs to one as best he can. As he sprints he brings forth his Lightning Hawk spell. A bolt of lightning arcs out of the sky and electrifies Anlaf as he soars above. A smaller bolt arcs down and connects with Sembas's ready spear tip. He flourishes his spear, the diamonds sparkling as the electricity dances along the tip.
The falconer is on the defensive, with three sets of eyes watching Coward's every move.
-
As Fjorin hears the battle rage nearby, it becomes increasingly difficult to sit still and think things through, and he is hardly a gambling man. Clenching his fists tightly around the blade General Fury had bestowed upon him, Fjorin approaches the childer named Catujel. There is determination in his eyes, and a fiery glint tells that the Forsaken will not like what the massive warrior has to say.
"You were attacked." Fjorin's words seemed to chill the air as he sliced his own cheek with the blade, leaving a sizable cut. He continued, his intent still unclear. "You valiantly fought the Ageless, leaving what scars you could." Blood dripped down his jaw. "However... you were outnumbered..." He raised his blade above his head, and his voice turned to a low growl. "...and wounded."
(STRENGTH - DAMAGE)
Fjorin's blade turns into a red streak as he brings it down once more upon the Forsaken, intent on destroying his sword arm - whether by severance or crushing wound mattered little. In the heat of battle, they could not afford to trust this man, and with Siron's heart in sway, the party would be easy to betray; yet, if he returned to Fortuna unharmed when the Ageless made their escape, he would surely face the brunt of her wrath. If he was truly immortal, such a wound was hardly as grim as it would have been in their former lives, and it may well allow for everyone's safety.
"Let us move."
-
Fjorin's attack startles the knight, but he does not move against his companion. Still confused and shaken, Siron only looks at the events unfolding in front of him.
“Siron! Call off your companion!... Get out while you can!”
The youngest of the entrimas wanted to believe his brother, but each time he heard his voice images came flooding back in. His father lying in blood drenched sheets, Gustav’s laughter ringing in the knight’s ears. Rage boiled up as he looked at his brother’s face.
"You were attacked."…
Siron moves in closer to Fjorin and grabs the edge of his blade as he begins to cut himself, not taking his eyes off Catujel in the process. “I saw what happened here,” the knight’s voice is quiet, but the rage in it can still be felt. “That torcher room and the body,” he shakes his head in disbelief. “I will not believe a single word you say Catujel, but I will give you a chance. Go back through the way we came, go outside and find the whole we came through. Surrender to our comrades there. Until your innocence is proven you will be our prisoner. If your words hold through than you will do this. Leave now or remain and die.” Siron let’s go of Fjorin’s sword and firmly grips the handle of his mace.
-
Sig only has a split second to react to his own attack being turned against him. He knows that he will not have time to dodge, and his lute is too bulky to try and get in there for a parry in time. Looks like it's going to be up to the All-father.
Sig shifts all of his weight downward. His feet sink into the ground as he anchors himself. He pushes back on the momentum of his attack with all of his might (Constitution-Fortitude of the All-Father) and forces his weapon back under his control. Sweat pours from his brow as he focuses every muscle into stopping the attack. The axe blade moves slower and slower until it is barely moving towards him. The blade gently makes contact with his chest where it pushes against the metal links underneath his coat. And then the momentum is gone and his axe is his again. Sig flashes a grin at Ravana while sending a silent prayer of thanks to Alviss for providing his strength.
He swings the axe back into a ready position. Attacking her head on is asking for trouble if she can just reflect all of his attacks. A diversion is needed. Sig notices a large tree just behind his target and he makes his decision. Winding up, he hurls the axe as hard as he can. It purposely misses Ravana and passes to her left. The axe thuds heavily into the tree behind her, and Sig quickly pulls the chain that connects the axe to his right wrist taught.
With a brutal two-handed tug, Sig uproots the tree (Strength-Damage [IMPROVISED FIGHTING]). It quickly falls in the direction that it is being pulled, which sends it fstraight towards Ravana..
-
@Aeliana:
Two bolts of energy curve around Punisher and hurtle towards Fortuna. Fortuna’s features are affected by unbridled fury and she instinctively thrusts her hand upwards. Aeliana, being sensitive to magic, can feel something so powerful it is almost palpable.
There is a slight shimmer in front of Fortuna, as the energy is cast back in the direction it came. It slams into Punisher full force, and the recently redeemed Forsaken is violently knocked backward. He collapses upon the ground in a heap. His eyes are open but his movements are sluggish as he attempts to pull himself from the ground. It is obvious that Aeliana’s spell has rendered him at least partially paralyzed, yet despite this, he uses all of his Willpower to drag himself to his knees.
Fortuna raises her arms above her head and there is a sound of splintering wood beneath your feet. The entire floor begins to shake, so much so that Fjorin and Siron can feel it down the hall. Large, wooden roots begin to force their way through the floorboards. They quickly wrap around Punisher’s chest and haul him back to the ground before seizing you around the ankles, rooting you to the spot.
You quickly realize these roots pose a distinct threat. They grow tighter around you and begin reaching upward, wrapping around your thighs and stretching out for your torso. Even worse are the wicked, barbed thorns that begin to erupt from the vines and dig into your flesh.
“I am done toying with you, pathetic girl,” spits Fortuna. “And as for you, Azazel, I will ensure that your death is a long, painful, experience that will cause you to beg for death! I will-”
Fortuna’s tirade is interrupted by an earsplitting sound behind you, toward the front door Punisher had so desperately tried to carry you towards. Wood explodes outward and you glimpse a large blur barreling towards Fortuna. The sorceress has no time to react before the hurtling mass slams into her chest, knocking her several yards backward.
Dust and debris clear, and you can clearly see a familiar form. You’ve met her once or twice before, during the few times Dethys Night came to call upon you. She had been very vocal regarding her annoyance at playing babysitter to the High Mage of Avalon, but you could tell that while grim and fierce, Captain Adia Blood had both a good heart, yet was certainly not one to be crossed.
“Hello, Fortuna,” her voice is low and intimidating.
Blood slams her broadsword towards Fortuna’s chest, but the sorceress deftly rolls to the side to avoid it. Fortuna’s hand touches the ground as she mutters several words under her breath, and moments later, a wall of fire separates her from Blood.
Punisher begins to pull at the vines that bind him, his eyes occasionally darting towards you in worry. The longer the vines are upon you, the more ravenously they dig into your legs. Punisher roars and gives a final tug to the vines around him. He manages to tear through them and drags himself over to you. Blood gushes from his hands, which have been torn to ribbons by the thorns of the vines. He reaches towards his boot and extracts a large hunting knife, which he uses to free you.
@Sembas:
Sembas deftly manages to dodge away from Coward’s sneak attack. He rolls upon the ground and springs back to his feet to face Coward. Lightning illuminates Anlaf and arcs towards Sembas’s spear.
The falconer’s eyes dart about the immediate area as he takes a defensive stance. At first there is no sign of Coward, but Sembas’s glimpses a slight shimmer of the air to his left. Sembas can feel a rush of air on that side, and a split second later he feels a heavy force connect with his left shoulder, unbalancing him slightly. He can see Coward’s foot retract from the kick, but the aptly named assassin is doing a decent job of remaining hidden.
Across the battlefield, Lai’s eyes are firmly locked upon Sembas. Her mouth opens in an earsplitting scream. While it does not affect her allies, the Forsaken in the area are not so fortunate. Coward’s stealth is broken as he cups his hands over his ears and lets out a scream of pain. For at least the moment, Sembas has the advantage.
@Sig:
Nearby, Coward’s scream is echoed by Ravana who is forced to put her hands to her ears. Her eyes widen as she watches Sig steel his resolve and recover power of his weapon mere inches away from his skull.
Sig hurls his axe towards a nearby tree, and yanks it forward with the chain that secures it to his arm. He manages to uproot the tree and yanks it forward. Ravana has no time to react and the tree falls upon her, landing squarely upon her midsection and pinning her to the ground. Her eyes grow wide in fear and she reaches forward with one of her hands, touching the tree that has imprisoned her. Her fingers erupt in a brilliant orange light and the tree begins to burn. Her other hand stretches out towards Sig, sending a large burst of flame in the direction of the Chosen of Alviss.
@Fjorin and Siron:
Catujel is spared from Fjorin’s wrath by Siron’s intervention.
“Siron, I beg of you. Reconsider your course of action. If you face Fortuna head-on, she will destroy you. I will do as you ask and surrender myself to your companions, but I beg of you…think carefully of what you are doing,” implores Catujel. He turns toward the direction you came and begins to move toward the rear of the building.
It is obvious that a great battle rages on in the next room. Down the hallway, you cast glimpses of the action. There is a red-haired woman being freed by constricting vines by an imposing, black-haired man, and you correctly guess that the juggernaut that destroyed the front of the building with her entrance was likely Blood. From where you stand, you cannot see Fortuna, but it is obvious from the chaos that Catujel is not exaggerating her power.
Honor claps Siron on the back and moves towards the hallway. Siron and Fjorin stand to either side of Honor, and Siron, the rash young knight is eager to join in the fray and forget about the jarring experience of encountering his brother. He steps forward into the hallway, but the wood plank he steps on sags beneath his weight. Honor’s eyes widen. There is a loud, grating sound behind the three warriors, as if a metal lever is being pushed.
Fjorin’s head whips around and he catches a glimpse of Catujel with his hand upon a large, metal switch. Long, metal spikes erupt from the walls of the hallway and attempt to skewer the three warriors. Honor roars, stretching out his arms to either side and slamming them into the chests of his companions to expel them backwards and out of the range of the deadly weapons.
Siron and Fjorin land heavily on their backs upon the ground, while Catujel’s laughter echoes throughout the room. Siron and Fjorin both scramble to their feet, but Honor has not moved. It is with dawning horror that you realize why. One of the spikes has slashed through the front of his neck… directly through his Death Wound.
Catujel flips the switch again and the spikes retract. Honor collapses to his knees as blood pours down the front of his neck and flows down his armor in crimson rivulets.
“Well, that was disappointing!” calls Catujel. “The old man reacted quicker than I thought! Wow, Siron! You are daft! Did you honestly think that mudhead, Gustav, could ever outthink me? Ah, well! I would love to stay and chat, Siron, but duty calls and whatnot.” Catujel turns toward the rear of the building and takes off at a breakneck speed.
“Siron…” Honor’s voice is raspy and fading. “Siron…” He beckons for the young knight to draw towards him.
Siron, his eyes wide and his entire body numb, drops to his knees beside his mentor, leaving Fjorin to decide whether to chase down Catujel or continue on into the next room and join in the fray with Fortuna.
“Siron…” Honor’s hand fumbles towards his own waist and beneath the top of the armor that protects his lower body. From his pocket he extracts a small box which he holds out to Siron. Honor’s expression is pained and he gestures urgently for Siron to take the box. He thrusts it into Siron’s outstretched hands.
“Adaline…” speaks Honor, his voice scarcely a whisper. Siron immediately recognizes it as the first name of the woman called Muse, the pretty redhead that kissed Honor before their departure to the Sanguine Fields.
Honor presses his hands against his throat, trying to slow the bleeding enough to get out his last words. “I asked her… before we left… She said… she said… she would… give me… answer… when I…” Every word is a struggle for Honor, and it is a battle he is rapidly losing. “Give to… give to her…”
Sadness and regret twist Siron’s features. Honor, noticing the young knight’s anguish, reaches a hand upward, touching Siron’s cheek. “You… you will be a knight yet… No matter what… I am very… very proud of you.”
These poignant words, which Siron so often wished to hear from his father, are the final words to be spoken by his mentor, the man who had so long ago, inspired Siron to follow a path to knighthood.
-
While Fjorin was correct to distrust Catujel, he had grimly underestimated just how far the brother of Siron would lower himself. If only he had not left such a duty to Siron. Of course he could not deal with his own brother! Siron... Honor... neither would lay a finger on a man claiming surrender. Fjorin's rage brimmed over, only half of it directed toward Siron's brother, and the other half to himself. It was he who did nothing when he knew better. It was he who had killed Honor.
"Sir Siron... go, ensure the prisoner gets back safely."
Gritting his teeth, he rose, and glared at the coward as he ran... like a starving beast watching its prey escape. He would make this right. Catujel had proven himself dangerous, and it would be his last mistake. In one swift motion, Fjorin rose his blade to the ceiling and slammed it into the ground, the earth beneath crumbling before it. As furious as the warrior was, he was not stupid. Catujel would have more traps in wait, and if his blade was truly attuned to the earth, perhaps it could reveal any wood or stones that are out of place... it may just give him the advantage he needed, even if he would be a moment or two behind.
"Worry not about your brother... you can decide his fate when I bring you his torso."
Having learned what he could from his sword, Fjorin's ATHLETIC legs carried him swiftly through the corridors, intent on closing Catujel's lead, and tearing him limb from limb.
-
Siron watches speechlessly, as his brother speaks his words of warning and leaves them. The knight loosens up the grip on his mace and releases a deep sigh. He tries to put aside the shock from the unexpected reunion and focus on the mission at hand. Catching glimpses of what was happening down the hall he tries to assess the situation. Honor claps him on the back and with a nod the young man falls in step on his side, along with Fjorin on the other side.
Stepping first into the hallway, Siron is met with the strange sensation of his foot sinking into the floor and a loud, grating sound is heard from behind. Still trying to clear his head, the knight is confused and unaware of what is happening. Honor’s hand catches him off guard and pushes him back with ease. Still uncertain what is happening, the knight quickly goes back on his feet, drawing his weapon and readying his shield while doing so. His brother’s laughter can be heard behind them in the distance, but Siron completely ignores it. The Childer is shocked to see his friend has been skewered directly through his neck and death wound.
“NO!” Siron screams, as the spikes retract and let go of Honors body. The knight’s weapon and shield land on the ground with a loud thud, when he rushes forward and claps his hands on the blood gushing wound. “No, no, no, no ….,” now Siron’s voice is barely a whisper, as both of them fall on their knees gently. Blood spilling on his gauntlets and the dying mans armor, as the knight is unable to stop the intense bleeding.
“Siron…” Honor’s voice is raspy and fading.
“No… you can’t… please, please don’t!” The young man’s words are filled with a mixture of both, sadness and fear.
“Siron…”
With teary eyes and clenching his teeth, he leans closer to his friend and mentor. Honor’s hand holds out a small box.
“Adaline… I asked her… before we left… She said… she said… she would… give me… answer… when I…” Every word is a struggle for Honor, and it is a battle he is rapidly losing. “Give to… give to her…”
Unable to say a word, the knight only nods and each time he blinks a stream of tears is summoned. Desperately squeezing Honor’s throat, he struggles in vain to stop the inevitable. Hoping for a miracle he doesn’t let go of his friend. It is than that he feels his mentor’s hand upon his cheek.
“You… you will be a knight yet… No matter what… I am very… very proud of you.”
Right now the cold metal gauntlet felt incredibly warm. When the last sign of life left Honor’s body, Siron catches his falling hand and gently lays down the body. He looks towards the empty ceiling and his face is instantly twisted by rage. His mouth wide open, the only thing his throat managed to produce was a shallow cough and a whimper. His mind screaming a thousand curses, to all deities who let this happen and even more directed towards him.
"Sir Siron... go, ensure the prisoner gets back safely."… "Worry not about your brother... you can decide his fate when I bring you his torso."
At this point Siron couldn’t care less what happened to his brother. He would give anything just to undo this. Still Fjorin was right, they came to do a task, a task that needed doing immediately. Picking up the box and grabbing his shield and mace, the knight tries to get his composure. He quickly makes his way to the end of the hallway. Looking wrecked and still breathing rapidly, he appears within the room. When he sees Blood he quickly averts his gaze, ashamed and guilty he doesn’t dare look the captain in the eyes. Instead the knight gestures towards Aelina and the armored man, to make their way towards him.
-
Her eyes widen as something powerful shimmers in front of Fortuna as and reflects her stun back into Azazel. She stumbles back as he is thrown back to the floor, Aeliana is impressed by his willpower as he drags himself to his knees. Her glare spins to Fortuna and energy crackles around her fingertips just as she is thrown off balance by the splintering of the wood beneath her feet. Vines burst from the floor, wrapping her legs and thighs. She gritted her teeth with as barbed thorns sprout violently from the vines and dig into her.
To her left she realizes that Azazel is covered in the same vines and for a moment wonders for his life. Fortuna was no longer playing with them.
“I am done toying with you, pathetic girl,” spits Fortuna. “And as for you, Azazel, I will ensure that your death is a long, painful, experience that will cause you to beg for death! I will-”
An earsplitting screech sounds in the room as the door that they had tried to get through explodes inward into the room, and a form slams into Fortuna as she
has no chance to react. She waves her hand, magical energy carrying the dust out of her vision, and her eyes widen barely a fraction. Maybe she would get out of this alive after all, Captain blood, who she had met only on few occasions has shown up.
As the two exchange words and blows, Fortuna leaps backwards, throwing up a fire wall between Her and blood.
Magical energy sheathing her hands, she tries to rip away the vines with little effect. Grimmacing in pain, she hears Azazel roar and rip out of his vines, before he stumbles over to her. She glances to him with an unreadable expression as he pulls out a boot knife and tears away the vines gripping her legs.
Hearing a noise off to her right she glances, seeing a young man with dark brown hair, wielding a mace and shield, and looked on the verge of something like panic. He motioned to her to come to her. So perhaps this was more than an attack on Fortuna, had someone truly come to get her out of here, with Blood at their head?
“Let’s go. I’m going to help how I can, but now is the time for leave taking. You must show me where my things are that I came in with, and Magnus’ sword” A pang of heartache flashed through her body at the mention of his name, but she put the thought from her mind. She had things to do. She looke the young knight in the face and he could see a wealth of knowledge in her eyes. Aeliana grabbed Azazel’s sleeve and start to pulling him towards the exit that the young knight was in. She tried to give him a little push towards the door. She looked Siron in the eyes. Her gaze was piercing, and you get the feeling she was not someone you would want to make angry
“You are here with blood?” She questioned, she didn’t wait for a response. “Don’t attempt to harm Azazel, he is under my protection” She seemed to expect to be listened to, and her voice rang with clear authority.
Taking a step back into the room, her gaze locked onto the scene before her, the stalemate of Blood and Fortuna. Those around her could see heavy green and black energy spinning around her hands. Angling herself towards parallel with the fire wall, she threw her hands out. A roar followed and the ground started exploding up from below, rock and fire bursting into the air. It roared towards the fire wall. She hoped that as the two magical spells collided, not only would the burning rock consume some of the fuel that was burning in the fire wall, she hoped for a brief disturbance that would allow blood a chance to make a move. With a roar her Intelligence – Spell Riven Earth collided into the fire wall…
-
Sig sees the flames coming and realizes that he doesn't even have time to retrieve his axe. Glancing to his left, he sees an old tree stump within a short distance of him. He dashes over to it and grasps it with both hands, ripping it from the ground with a yell. He then holds it up and ducks behind it, using it as a shield to hopefully block at least the majority of the flames that wash over his position. (Strength [IMPROVISED FIGHTING], Constitution [FORTITUDE OF THE ALL-FATHER])
-
@Fjorin:
Both Fjorin’s upbringing and his own innate virtues tell him that to run away is cowardice, and if such is true, than Catujel is likely one of the greatest cowards he has ever faced. A second truth of cowards is that they often cover their tracks with underhanded means. Luckily, the warrior of the Ebonmane has the forethought to use the General’s boon to affect the earth.
As the blade strikes the ground before him, Fjorin feels shifting and rumbling under his feet. Ahead of him, he watches as three traps are triggered. The first trap, at the end of the hallway closest to him was similar to the one that ended Honor. A little farther down the hallway, a second trap ignites the floor in a wall of flame that quickly dissipates. At the end of the hallway, Fjorin can see Catujel slam his hand against the wall upon a hidden button, triggering a third trap. The shockwave sent through the earth erupts, triggering the third trap, and Fjorin watches as shocks of electricity erupt from the walls. It is this third trap that likely would have caused the fall of the Ebonmane warrior.
Confident that his path is clear, Fjorin bounds through the hallway, his footsteps like thunder upon the floor. His Athletics lend him great speed, but even that falls short of Catujel’s flight. He is likely one of the fastest men Fjorin has ever seen. However, it quickly becomes apparent Catujel does not have the same durability as Fjorin. Despite the speed with which he moves, it is evident the pace is quickly exhausting Catujel.
Fjorin follows Catujel through the torture chamber and back out into the open. Quite suddenly, Catujel turns to face Fjorin, his momentum still granting him speed as he flies backward through the opening. Upon his wrist appears to be some kind of hand-mounted crossbow. He fires a bolt directly towards Fjorin’s throat, hoping to impale the warrior.
@Siron:
The mage makes her way towards the young knight and alarm affects Siron as he hears the name Azazel used in conjunction with the black-haired man that accompanies Aeliana. Given the experience he just had with trusting a Forsaken, his first instinct is to strike this man down, yet conflict seizes him.
On one hand, he had just lost a friend and mentor at the hands of his own brother. He had hesitated, and as a result, Honor had died trying to protect him. On the other hand, hadn’t Fjorin mentioned this Punisher had once been an honorable man and could be redeemed? What would Fjorin do if he was here? Would he heed his own words? Or would the death of Honor have changed his course of action?
The woman before him, understandably, seems eager to leave this place. But is it wise to allow her to protect this Forsaken with her? Yes, Siron had watched as the man selflessly tore his own hands to shreds in an attempt to save her. Yet, he is still a Forsaken. What if he betrays them just as Catujel had? Siron has heard tales before of prisoners developing sympathies for their captors. Is Aeliana suffering from such an affliction? Has her better judgment wavered due to all she has endured?
Siron is left with but a moment to ponder what to do. Should he allow Punisher to accompany himself and Aeliana, or should he attempt to strike him down to ensure he is not betrayed for a second time in one day?
@Aeliana:
The young knight before her seemed eager to lead her away, but as he gazes upon Punisher, she sees some reluctance in his eyes. Down the hallway, she sees a dark form upon the floor. Someone has fallen in the next room. Perhaps this young knight dispatched the Childer Forsaken who had helped to imprison her.
Punisher nods dutifully as Aeliana inquires after the location of her belongings. “Of course, milady. But it isn’t safe for you here. You must get out. Your possessions are being held in a locked chest in one of the living quarters. I have reason to suspect that the chest is warded against opening. It is likely only Fortuna or someone of equal power could open it. I’ll retrieve the chest and meet you outside. Will that suit you, milady?”
While listening to Punisher’s response, Aeliana looks for some way to assist Blood. Blood stares at the wall of flame in front of her and appears to be ready to throw caution to the wind and leap through it. Instead, Aeliana’s Riven Earth spell collides with the wall of flame, and as the fire weakens, Blood’s eyes lock onto Fortuna’s fleeing form. She is tearing across the room at full speed towards another hallway in the rear of the room.
@Aeliana and Siron:
As the knight and the mage discourse, Blood takes up the chase, her legs propelling her across the floor at unbelievable speeds. Her shoulder lowered, she collides with Fortuna, tackling her to the ground. A look of desperation affects Fortuna’s features. Fortuna slams her head backwards, hitting Blood in the face and causing the Captain to stumble backwards. Rivers of crimson pour down Blood’s forehead and from her nose, but the tenacious Captain is not about to give up the chase. She swings her broadsword forward, just as Fortuna thrusts her hand towards Blood. Blood’s blade cuts across the top of Fortuna’s palm, nearly severing the mage’s fingers.
Instantaneously, Fortuna’s spell takes effect, pushing Blood backwards with some invisible force in an attempt to widen the distance between them. However, the relentless Captain Blood is not so easily deterred. She reaches to her waist and unsheathes a formidable hunting knife, which she throws towards Fortuna’s fleeing form. The knife catches the sorceress in the back of her shoulder and embeds itself deeply into her flesh. Fortuna cries out in pain, but does not cease her flight.
Fortuna’s movements begin to slow, and Siron is reminded of the poison that Ciar had been working on. It appears Captain Blood certainly has Fortuna on the defensive. Fortuna’s eyes blaze as the poison begins to work its way through her body. A triumphant look crosses Blood’s face as she explodes forward, her sword poised to run Fortuna through.
However, Fortuna, her body beginning to fail her, moves her mouth to summon the words of an incantation. Enormous wooden spikes erupt from the floor. Blood’s eyes widen as she attempts to adjust her course, but she moves with such great momentum that she cannot stop herself entirely from colliding with the spikes. One penetrates the front of her armor and erupts from the back of her shoulder. Another strikes her through the stomach, causing her face to contort with pain. Yet, it is the third that is the most terrifying. A long, jagged spike is trained on Blood’s Death Wound, the small, star shaped scar upon her forehead where Severan Deceit had once embedded his spear. At the last moment, Blood twists her face to the side, and instead the spike buries itself into her cheek.
Fortuna is exhausted and the poison is quickly paralyzing her body. Her hand shaking, she stretches it out before her, opening a portal, likely to Darastae. She glances back at Blood, who despite her own agony, pushes against the spikes to get closer to Fortuna. Blood forces the point of her broadsword downward, plunging it deep into Fortuna’s back. The sorceress cries out in agony as she pulls her body through the portal.
The swirling mass of light engulfs Fortuna, and Blood’s sword, and both disappear, the portal slamming shut in Fortuna’s wake. The spikes retract and Blood falls to the ground in a heap.
Punisher shakes his eyes in disbelief. “I have never in my life seen anyone prove such a challenge for Fortuna. The danger has not passed. Coward and Ravana are still here, and the latter is nearly as powerful as her mistress. We must make haste.”
@Sig:
Sig tears a tree stump from the ground, using it to shield the majority of his body. It is lucky that he had the forethought to do so. The flames connect with the stump, forcing Sig backwards. If not for his incredible Constitution, he likely would have been knocked over, allowing the flames to engulf his body. Sig’s feet dig into the ground. The hungry flames devour the stump, leaving little more than charred handfuls of smoking wood where the stump once was. The remnants drop from Sig’s hands and his eyes go back to the tree where Ravana was imprisoned moments ago.
However, Sig is surprised to find that the entire tree has been lit aflame, and Ravana is nowhere to be seen. There is an earsplitting sound from the rear of the compound and Sig watches as an enormous, metal form lumbers in his direction. It is likely 12 feet high and a good 6 feet wide. It brings to mind the clever machinery the Chosen of Alviss use to assist them in carrying the cumbersome hauls of gemstones to the treasure room. Could this be one of the machines that General Fury had alluded to? Terrible creations fueled by the blood of the fallen Ageless that had given their lives upon these fields?
The ground beneath Sig’s feet shakes wildly, and roots explode through the soil, seizing his ankles and digging long, two inch thorns into his flesh. His gaze falls upon Ravana, a distance of maybe 10 feet away. She is certainly doing her best to stay out of range with the Chosen of Alviss.
@Sembas:
Lai’s interventions have temporarily given Sembas an edge. Coward’s hands are clasped to his ears, and this significantly lowers his defense. Sembas glances upward, his gaze locking onto Anlaf’s. Faile’s brother seems to understand what he desires, and Essence of the Falcon comes to grace Sembas. Sembas finds his speed and strength increased, and he swings his spear forward, attempting to connect with Coward’s skull. Should the blow succeed, Sembas will follow in up with a well-placed strike towards Coward’s torso, embedding the point into the assassin’s chest.
Sembas’s first blow firmly connects with Coward’s head, knocking the assassin off balance. Coward collapses to the ground and Sembas moves forward to skewer him with the spear. However, Coward deftly rolls to his right and springs to his feet. The force of the spear’s thrust carries the tip of the spear into the ground. Sembas moves to wrench it free from the earth. Coward swiftly moves out of range in an attempt to reestablish stealth. He successfully manages to do so, but Sembas’s blow had served an excellent purpose. The assassin is bleeding profusely from the temple, and he leaves a trail of blood in his wake. It will be much harder for him to take Sembas by surprise again.
Sembas feels a rush of air and his eyes widen as he sees a throwing knife careening towards him, intent on imbedding into his chest.
-
Sembas curses his foolishness. He should have impaled Navar the first chance he got, not whacked him upside the head. But it is too late to rectify his past actions, there is a throwing knife aimed in on his chest.
The Essence of the Falcon is still coursing through him. He quickly snatches his spear from the ground, the tip of it tearing through the dirt and sending a shower of earth arcing into the air. Using both hands he spins his spear in front of him as a rotating shield. Thanks to his innate athletics and the Essence of the Falcon taking its effect, it should be enough to deflect the throwing knife.
He finds his current tactic to be a losing battle. Coward is leaking blood from his temple thanks to the blow he took earlier. With another flourish of his spear, Sembas puts his Wisdom tracking skills to use and begins to follow the blood trail.
Should he happen upon Coward he will meet the man with a flurry of strikes with his spear.
-
Fjorin had known the powers of his new blade to be great, but it seemed he had underestimated his gift once more. Catujel's traps were easily negated by its power - the last of which would have surely ended the legacy of the Ebonmane. With the path cleared, Fjorin stormed forward with furious resolve, intent on making good on his promise to Sir Siron.
As the two immortals dashed about the building, it quickly became clear to the northman that his foe was much swifter than any he had ever faced, and Fjorin barely manages to keep him within his sights. However, stamina soon comes into play, and the warrior knows he will soon close in on the Catujel. His jaw clenched, he presses forward, fueled by a rage that is only begotten of a coward's deception.
Suddenly, Catujel turns and reveals a hidden weapon. Of course the sniveling whelp would have cheap tricks hidden on his body as well. In Fjorin's many battles, it was these tactics that proved the most dangerous. The bolt would likely be poisoned, there was no time to change direction, his forward momentum was too great, and his-
As if time stopped, a strange sensation interrupted his rushing thoughts. There was a strange tingling in his chest... a familiar sensation. It was that of a spirit's touch. It was that of Lai's touch, when they rested in Avalon under the stars. In that moment, the warrior would swear he could even feel the night time breeze on his skin.
Fjorin's massive body and stoic mind reacted quickly - more quickly than ever before. He widened his forward step, dipping lower to the ground and leaning to the side in order to (DEXTERITY - DODGE) the incoming missile, and immediately continue his pursuit.
At the first opportunity, Fjorin would use the gift of the Blood-Warden General to take Catujel's swift legs right out from under his body.
-
Despite all that has happened, Siron is trying to keep his mind on the task at hand. Slowing his breathing and attempting to retrieve his calm, he observes the events that unfold in the room. After freeing himself and Aelina from Fortuna’s spell, the black haired man and the sorceress approach him.
“You are here with blood? Don’t attempt to harm Azazel, he is under my protection”
Cold chills run down the knight’s spine at the mention of the Punisher. His eyes widen and his rage boils. Despite the armor, Aelina can sense the rising tension of the knight. Slowly he pulls his shield in and lowers his mace. Almost instinctively he gets into a ready stance. The sound around him begins to fade, until everything apart of his and Azazel’s, breathing and motions, dampens and becomes barely noticeable. His focus sharpens and dims everything, but the black armored man. Time seems to slow down around him and Siron can feel the familiar rush of adrenalin, in the seconds before he goes into battle. He can almost see himself burying his mace in the man’s face, yet he doesn’t move a muscle. Exhaling a breath, hot enough to leave white mist in the air, his rage demands he strikes down this forsaken here and now! Every muscle in him, tenses to its limit and still his body refuses to move even an inch. As if shackled, the knight stands still and now he notices the shackles he himself has placed. Striking a defenseless man meant forfeiting his dream of knighthood. The selfish dream for which, he once died, helpless and unable to help his father. The foolish dream that lead to Lurien Honor‘s untimely demise. The brightly shining dream he saw back in the burning manor and has followed ever since. Siron will not give into his rage, strike Punisher and abandon all he has stood for, even if the man is a forsaken. Loosening both arms, his rage clouded mind clears and he composes himself once more.
The knight’s gaze finally moved from the Punisher and he looked at the sorceress.
“I will do as you ask,” even though she did not wait for a response, he gave her one. Siron has visibly improved from moments ago and he has finally gotten somewhat of a grip on himself. He quickly returned to watching Azazel’s movement, despite the fact that Punisher tore the deadly bindings on himself and Aelina, with disregard of his own well being, Siron would not trust the man. Before they could leave however, the battle between the captain and Fortuna, came to a quick conclusion and the knight rushed towards the wounded captain, carefully yet swiftly, he bypasses Punisher. Sheathing his mace and shield he falls on one knee and gets ready to pick up the captain.
“I have never in my life seen anyone prove such a challenge for Fortuna. The danger has not passed. Coward and Ravana are still here, and the latter is nearly as powerful as her mistress. We must make haste.”
“That is why we leave, now! Trough the front and Punisher, you are coming with us! If Miss Aelina’s belongings are of great importance, I will retrieve them myself. You are neither in a condition to do that, nor will I leave you to do as you please.” He looks at the sorceress with a determined look. “All of us came here to insure your safety! Please, do not make this harder than it already is! I will do what you ask, but I must get you to safety first, you have my word!”
-
As she cast her riven earth spell, she faintly heard the knight behind her speak –
”I will do as you ask”
Well. At least he wasn’t going to try to kill him, which was a start. Her spell slammed into Fortuna’s, weakening it enough to allow blood to leap through to Fortuna. Her eyes widen a fraction at the scene of desperate fighting happens before her, and she almost forgets the young man behind her. As Fortuna disappears, and Blood slumps to the ground, she feels almost useless. Anything she could throw at Fortuna was thrown right back at her. She was not strong enough, but maybe now that the divines had chosen her, she could be as strong as she needed to be.
She heard Azazel speak from beside her
“I have never in my life seen anyone prove such a challenge for Fortuna. The danger has not passed. Coward and Ravana are still here, and the latter is nearly as powerful as her mistress. We must make haste.”
And then the knight, who had shot passed them to Blood, kneeling next to her.
“That is why we leave, now! Through the front and Punisher, you are coming with us! If Miss Aeliana’s belongings are of great importance, I will retrieve them myself. You are neither in a condition to do that, nor will I leave you to do as you please.”
He gave her a determined look and she almost smiled at his insistence.
“All of us came here to insure your safety! Please, do not make this harder than it already is! I will do what you ask, but I must get you to safety first, you have my word!”
Those words cut close. They had come to rescue her and shed blood for her. Her Guardian had done the same but lost his life in the process. She hoped he was happy wherever he was now. Tears welled in the corner of her eyes, but did not leak down her cheeks. She would keep control of her emotions, she could not allow herself to grieve right now, and there was much to be done.
Taking a breath she glided forward, small flakes of dried blood falling off of her dress and she felt the warmness of new in her boots where it had drained from the wounds in her legs. Kneeling beside blood, she spoke softly
“It is okay captain, we are here for you. You will be hungry and a little tired after this, make sure that you eat as soon as possible and eat whenever you are hungry for a couple days.” She continued to speak soft words of comfort whether the woman needed them or not, and used Intelligence – Spellcasting [Healing].
As the spell was being cast, she spoke to the young knight and Azazel.
“Azazel, can you tell our Young knight where my things are?” She looked to Siron “These are things that are important to me. If they are not recovered by someone else, I will come back in for them, alone if I must.” Her voice was nearly ice cold; she was not willing to budge on this. Her artifact she wanted back, but she particularly wanted Magnus’ sword. She would not leave that in her hands.
She looked back to blood as the spell was finishing up.
“I think you should know… I have been chosen by the divine this day, as you and Dethys have…”
She wanted to let blood know, so that she could properly assess the situation. The welts and wounds on her writs were clearly visible.
-
Sig is caught by surprise by the vines bursting from the ground. They wrap around his ankles and dig hard thorns through his padding and into his flesh. Annoyed, Sig forces himself to stay on his feet as the thorns tug at him (Constitution [FORTITUDE OF THE ALL-FATHER]). He hacks away at the vines with his axe, attempting to cut at them and pulling backwards simultaneously in an attempt to release himself from their grasp (Strength [ONE-HANDED AXE]).
Should his attempts to free himself succeed, he will switch from his axe to his lute and begin to warm up a bass line (Wisdom - Spiritual Magic [CRESCENDO]).
-
@Sembas:
The falconer’s quick reaction spares him from being injured by one of Coward’s throwing knives. He sets to tracking the injured assassin, which seems to be rather easily done.
Above, Anlaf makes wide circles in the sky as Sembas realizes the trail has died off. There no longer seems to be any visible sign of blood upon the ground. As if in reply to Sembas’s unasked question, Anlaf gives a slight shake of his head. The assassin has managed to evade even Anlaf’s keen gaze.
Chico pops his head out of Sembas’s pocket. “No, no, human! You’re doing it all wrong! I don’t get it; you have those big, bulbous beaks on your faces, but you can’t manage to track each other down. Honestly!” Chico scurries down Sembas’s arm and lands on a tuft of green grass at the falconer’s feet.
Sembas can see Chico’s whiskers twitching wildly. After a moment or two, Chico comes to an abrupt stop several feet in front of a few large, tangled bushes not too far from the place Fjorin and the others entered in their rescue mission.
“Sembas!” Chico hollers. “I think he’s in those bushes!”
As you draw closer, three shadowy forms erupt from the bushes, each of them training a throwing knife upon you. Where there had once been one Navar Coward, there are now three, but it is nearly impossible to tell which one is the real Coward.
Three arms pull back in the air, then snap forward to release their weapons in your direction.
@Fjorin:
As Sembas prepares to defend himself, nearby, two forms explode out of the torture room. Fjorin’s body swiftly leans to the side to evade the bolt from Catujel’s hidden weapon. In response to the attack, the Ebonmane warrior strikes forward in attempt to take the fleeing enemy’s feet out from under him.
Catujel is a blur of impressive speed and motion. As Fjorin’s sword swings forward, Catujel leaps into the air, just a hair’s breadth higher than the weapon. The strike is so close that the blade shaves the bottoms of Catujel’s boots. Catujel, with cat-like reflexes, lands upon his feet. Alarm seizes Catujel’s face. Perhaps he is realizing the Ebonmane warrior is a greater force to be reckoned with than he had initially though.
Catujel’s hand disappears into the folds of his jacket, and emerges with a long, thin chain with a small, metal ball at the end. It is obvious that Fjorin is far stronger than Catujel, so the brother of Siron must resort to his speed and guile to even stand a chance. As Fjorin barrels towards him, Catujel, forcefully throws one side of the chain towards Fjorin’s throat, while maintaining his hold on the other end.
The chain hits the Ebonmane warrior squarely in the adam’s apple and tightly wraps around his neck. Catujel gives the chain a mighty tug, causing great pain and discomfort for Fjorin, but ultimately, not bringing him to his knees.
“Will you stop for a bloody second?” Catujel reasons. “For pity’s sake, man! If you insist on pursuing me like a dog, then I’ll treat you like one and you can stay leashed like this until you calm the hell down!” Catujel shakes his head in frustration. “Think about what you’re doing, man. You Ageless are so blind to the truth! Big, bad Forsaken are just plain evil! Awfully one-sided if you think about it. Who determines what’s good and what’s evil? Those Ageless up on their thrones in Avalon will tell you all the atrocities the Forsaken have committed, but what about the Ageless? They’ll step on anyone’s head to get what they want.”
In your heart, you know his words are lies, but you are frozen in your tracks. It’s not the chain; though that is impeding you, you know you could break it if you tried. It’s something else… Your mind feels cloudy, and every word that pours from his lips sounds more and more like truth. You know no amount of physical strength could help you act against this man, not while you are under his spell. His words ensnare you, clouding your judgment and binding your actions. Yes… perhaps he is right… perhaps the Ageless are truly the evil ones.
@Aeliana and Siron:
Punisher nods obediently to Aeliana’s request. “Of course, milady.” He turns his attention to the young knight, giving him very specific directions as to how to find Aeliana’s belongings. “Whatever you do, don’t try to open the chest. If it is indeed warded, attempting to open it could serve to your detriment. We need to get it to someone powerful. Someone whose power is equal to Fortuna’s.”
@Siron:
Siron follows Punisher’s directions, moving back through the hallway he had originally come through, and into the room where Honor breathed his last. As he enters the room where his mentor’s body rests, he feels a chill creeping up his spine as his eyes fall upon an impossibly beautiful woman. Her stormy gray eyes peer from beneath her helm, and she is adorned in golden platemail. There is some familiarity in her features, and it is at that moment that Siron’s eyes fall upon the enormous, white, feathered wings folded behind her back… The leader of the Valkyries, the same one General Fury is rumored to have defeated, and the same that bore Constancy away shortly after Siron’s arrival in Avalon.
The Valkyrie is kneeling beside Honor, her hand upon the sword sheathed at his side. Two more figures emerge from the darkness, slightly smaller in frame, but wearing similar armor to their leader. As Siron enters the room, the leader of the Valkyries stands, her posture precise. She is awe-inspiring, both a vision of elegance and a presence of authority at the same time.
When her voice emerges from her lips, it feels as if Siron’s sense of hearing is being caressed by some unseen force.
"You must be Siron, the boy of whom the departed speaks."
Her words are sweet and pleasing, and never has Siron before heard something so euphonious. It is enough to make his knees tremble. Siron offers no reply, and the Valkyrie tilts her head to one side, a small smile of amusement playing across her lips.
One of her companion’s leans forward. “Brynhildr… Perhaps the boy is mute.”
The second companion giggles but ceases after a sharp look from Brynhildr.
“Jest at him not,” comes the reply of their leader. “Surely this has been a day marked by grief for his loss. Have you forgotten yourselves? Is your own sense of grief so far removed? What is a Valkyrie without some sense of empathy?”
Her companions lower their heads in shame. Brynhildr bends down and unbuckles the belt around Honor’s waist to which his scabbard and broadsword are attached. Wordlessly, she crosses to Siron. She places her hand upon his and a shudder of ecstasy seizes his limbs. She turns his hand over and places the sword upon it.
“He wished for you to have it. It is his final gift to you. May it serve you well, Siron Entrima.” Brynhildr’s face draws closer to Siron, and her lips lightly brush his forehead. A shockwave of emotion ripples through his entire body. It is a strange feeling, as if all of his anger and grief has been forcibly ripped from his heart and mind, and taken away, leaving him with a renewed sense of clarity.
Brynhildr makes her way back to Honor’s body, her expression thoughtful, almost sad. She crouches down beside him, and takes his unmoving form into her arms. She offers a sympathetic nod in parting before she and her companions are enveloped in a brilliant white light, so bright that Siron is forced to shield his with a forearm. When he opens them again, all three of them are gone.
Left with Honor’s gift in his hands, he is free to make his way to the living quarters to retrieve the chest that holds Aeliana’s belongings.
@Aeliana:
Blood is truly in rough shape as Aeliana attempts to tend to her wounds. Were she a mortal, she would have been dead several times over. Crimson blood pours from several wounds upon the Captain’s body, and she fights to maintain her consciousness.
As Aeliana’s healing begins to take effect, her eyes focus on the mage, and as Aeliana reveals her recent gift at the hands of the Divine, Blood smirks slightly.
“That sonofabitch was right…” She laughs but is seized by agony. Your healing has certainly aided her, but you quickly realize that your spell is far more potent on mortals than Ageless. Nevertheless, her wounds stop bleeding and she looks considerably less worse for wear.
“Dethys always thought… he thought you might be called upon one day… Said it would be a waste if the Divine didn’t recruit you.” Blood attempts to sit up, but her wounds are still fresh and ache terribly.
“Here… Let me…” Punisher moves forward to assist Blood.
She eyes him warily, glancing to you, then back to Punisher, before reaching out her hand to allow him to pull her up. He leans down, putting his shoulder under one of her arms, and helping her to her feet. Blood breathes in sharply as pain affects her body. Her wounds will certainly need more attention back in Avalon.
“Thanks.” Blood glances around the room and her gaze falls in the direction of the narrow hallway that Siron had disappeared through.
You catch a glimpse of something… something you’ve never seen before. There is a woman… no… three women. But with wings and golden armor. There is light, a blinding light, and they are gone.
Blood hangs her head in silence. When she lifts her eyes again, you see a flicker of emotion pass through them. She shakes her head as if dispelling the unpleasant feeling away and motions towards the wide, gaping hole she had made with her entry into the room.
“We need to get out of here,” says Blood. “The others are waiting outside. We’ve got to get you to safety, Aeliana.”
Blood begrudgingly allows Punisher to help her outside.
Once there, you quickly realize that though the fight with Fortuna has ended, there are still matters to be tended to.
To your left, a man seems to be following a mouse towards some bushes just as three shadowy figures explode from within. Nearby, another large warrior explodes out of the torture room, intent on skewering his fleeing opponent. You can hear the latter’s voice carried upon the wind; it is that of the Childer Forsaken.
There is a tree aflame and man of diminutive size fights to free himself from the vines that ensnare them. It is a familiar move, similar to the one Fortuna used against you and Punisher. You catch a glimpse of Fortuna’s apprentice, her gaze firmly locked upon an enormous machine, a construction of terrible power. She seems to be controlling it and it is making his way towards the unsuspecting short, stocky, fellow.
Even further down the field of battle, you see an enormous hole in the ground. There is a woman with long, blonde hair and flowing robes, and a mountainous young man you recognize as General Fury’s son, Dennan. The latter’s gaze has fallen upon the construct and you see his hand fall upon his axe. He lets out a feral roar and takes off in the direction of the construct.
@Sig:
You successfully manage to free yourself, despite the persistent clawing of the vines to ensnare you again. You take your lute in hand and begin to strum the opening notes to Crescendo, but find yourself unable to finish the tune as the ground beneath you vibrates so violently that you miss the next note.
With a grunt of irritation, your eyes lock onto Ravana, and with some degree of panic, the monstrosity making its way toward you, a mechanical behemoth she seems to be controlling. As you contemplate what to do, you see a streak of silver tearing across the field, and watch as Dennan barrels towards the construct, his axe poised to strike the mechanical legs that carry its cumbersome form.
-
Even with a chain wrapped firmly around his throat, Fjorin begins to feel uncomfortably pacified. Catujel speaks of good and evil, and the grey areas between; subjects the Ebonmane warrior had never taken significant stock in suddenly seemed important to him. Was he only doing what he did in life, and following orders blindly into battle after battle once more? What did he truly know of the Forsaken? And more importantly, what did he truly know of the Ageless?
No, these thoughts were unfamiliar. Why was he having them now?
What little emotions he had steadily twisted. All the good Fjorin had seen of the Ageless became meaningless and hollow… to switch the two in his head was to entirely corrupt him.
General Fury had fought the Valkyries selfishly, fearing loss and change… refusing to do so for any other but the Archon because of her greed.
Fjorin’s only “friend,” Lai, was a mere tool of the Lady of Shadows, intent on seeing that he accomplishes his mission to destroy Bayard Cael. To her, he was but a means to retrieve Aras safely.
The Thunder Caller was just in his actions, having put a stop to Fefner Halvar's wonton warmongering in search for his kidnapped queen.
Sir Siron’s sense of mercy was simply a misguided and foolish concept that any simpleton knight would give in to; merely a ploy for social gain and a selfish desire to elevate one’s standing.
And Honor’s death… it was…
Catujel’s words had successfully twisted many things… but there was nothing that could corrupt the fallen knight’s sacrifice. Fjorin’s spellbound senses grasped about with its misshapen clutches in an attempt to find something… yet, Honor’s death was the very ideal of how a warrior should fall in battle, and without even an instant to think on his actions, he instinctively saved his comrades. Foolish? Perhaps. Tactically sound? No, he would have been far more of an asset in this battle. Yet, even the greatest sorcery could not defile his actions as something evil.
“Perhaps you are right… I admit, I have argued with son of the Archon himself on the misguided notions of the Ageless. I know not why, but… your words ring true. I have been… weak.” the warrior seemed lost in thought...
____________________________________________________
Suddenly, Fjorin’s gauntlet clasps tightly onto the chain, allowing it no movement. His calm voice suddenly escalates into a thundering roar. “I have been far too merciful!” With his sword arm – his blade firmly grasped - he shatters the chain.
“Tell me where your death wound is now, or I swear I will turn you to mulch and burn the remains to find it!"
He pursues Catujel once more… but this time, his eyes are filled with a palpable bloodlust, and his stoicism is nowhere to be found. The coward’s spell had done quite a number on the Ebonmane warrior, confusing what few morals he held both past and present. But, with Honor’s courageous actions being of such purity, regardless of Catujel or Fjorin’s affiliation, the brother of Siron had to pay. And now, with his mind twisted against the principles of the Ageless, any obligation he felt toward being merciful – or even honorable - is gone, along with his promise to Siron.
Only vengeful brutality remains.
-
She listened patiently as Azazel told Siron where to find her things. She wondered how far his loyalty would go. She could never forgive the man, but perhaps he could find a measure of redemption. Many things remained unknown and unseen, but she would deal with them as they came up.
She mumbles under her breath as her healing spell does not seem as effective as it should have been. Perhaps there were some fundamental differences between what she is now and what she was. She would have to bridge that gap and soon if her power was to continue to grow.
“That sonofabitch was right…” Captain blood said. She laughed but was seized by visible agony. She nearly flinched at how much pain the woman must be going through. She truly did know, as she had just lived it.
“Dethys always thought… he thought you might be called upon one day… Said it would be a aste if the Divine didn’t recruit you.”
She watched, tensing slightly as Azazel moved to assist blood. She was going to watch him, but he had some measure of trust from her. He had attacked Fortuna for her, taken severe hurts for her and nearly been killed. While that did not take away the pain of the death of Magnus, it certainly put him on the right path for redemption.
Something caught the corner of her eye as she stood. At first it appeared to be a single woman, golden armored and with wings, but as she looked closer there were 3 of them. After a flash of bright light, though, they are gone. She looked to blood and caught a flicker of emotion on her face, and resolved that she would have to ask her about that later.
“We need to get out of here,” says Blood. “The others are waiting outside. We’ve got to get you to safety, Aeliana.”
Aeliana nodded to her statement, but even as she hear this, she was quickly casting a spell. It was a simple spell, requiring very little power and time, but of immense usefulness. She cast Intelligence – Spellcasting: Read residue. As they were walking out of the room, she studied the residues left behind by all of Fortuna’s spells in hopes that she could learn them. One must know their enemy if they are going to face them, after all.
After a few moments, when they arrived outside, it appeared there was much to be seen two. Her analytical gaze swept across what was now a battlefield, her instinctual tactical mind kicking into high gear. She caught a glimpse of several things happening at once, but the largest threat to her was posed by the apprentice of Fortuna, who appeared to be controlling the large construction barreling towards her assumed allies. Eyes narrowing just a bit, she decided to take matters into her own hands if she could. Even as Dennan Barreled towards the construct, a well of power appeared formed around her hand and was quickly forged into a scalpel thin blade of magical energy. With incredible speed and precision, she launched what she hoped to be a surprise attack on Ravana [Intelligence: Spellcasting – Sever] . She hoped to cut Ravana’s ties to her magical energy and if she succeeded, she would hold the severing as tightly as she could.
-
Siron holds the captain as Aeliana attempts to heal her. The spell quickly takes effect and he lets Blood lie down, while listening to Lady Ebraldi.
The young man raises a finger to object, but quickly thinks better of it. Seeing how Aeliana has more or less grasped the situation in her hands and the still lasting sorrowful experience of the last time he made important decisions, he was not too eager to lead. Still leaving the captain wounded and in a close proximity to Punisher, was not exactly the best scenario. After all, until recently that man was Forsaken.
“I … understand,” he quickly goes through the given directions to memories the essential parts. Before departing to retrieve the sorceress belongings, he gives one last look to Aeliana. “I leave the captain in your hands… she is important to us all, take good care of her,” reluctance can be felt in his voice. With all said, Siron leaves and following the instructions, he heads back through the hallway he came. Within that hallway, lies the body of lieutenant Honor of the fierce legion, who died saving Siron’s life once more.
Betraying the knight’s expectations however, was an image of an incredibly beautiful woman kneeling next to the body. At first he fails to recognize her, but as soon as he sees the white wings folded behind her back, his eyes widen and he realizes what is happening. Valkyries have come to take the departed Immortal’s body. The one kneeling next to Honor’s body was none other but the leader of the Valkyries, who the knight saw during his first day in Avalon.
Noticing him, the woman stands up and two others come from the shadows. Adorned in golden platemails, the Valkyries create an imposing image. Their leader speaks and contrary to that image, her voice is soft and welcoming, and caring.
"You must be Siron, the boy of whom the departed speaks."
Siron is both in awe and ashamed, neither able to speak nor wanting to, he remains silent. The sorrow he felt when Honor died, the rage that overcame him when he faced another forsaken, all of that was useless and mute in the sight of death. That was a warrior’s final destination and nothing emphasizes that point harder than the Valkyries. Faced by that ultimate truth; the young man was engulfed by a feeling of helplessness.
“Brynhildr… Perhaps the boy is mute.”
“Jest at him not … What is a Valkyrie without some sense of empathy?”
The exchange between the Valkyries should be frustrating, even infuriating, yet he has no strength to be mad or insulted. There was no need for all of that, he simply chose to bear with it to the end. It was the least he could do. Only a slight flinch indicates he is paying attention to the movements of the leader of the Valkyries. Brynhildr comes with Honor's sword in her hands. She softly grabs his hand and places the weapon in his. Upon her touch his body quivers lightly, as if caressed by a loved one.
“He wished for you to have it. It is his final gift to you. May it serve you well, Siron Entrima.”
As her face draws closer to him, the boy feels her breath. Warmth emanates from it, warmth he has never felt before. When her lips touch his forehead, it is a kiss filled with compassion and care. For him this is a kiss he has never had the chance to feel, the kiss of a mother. Lost in this warmth the knight complete relaxes and all his anger and sorrow are washed away. With his mind clear of heavy thoughts, he watches her go back to the departed’s body and they all disappear in a blinding light.
Straping the sword to his waist, Siron falls on one knee and bows deeply. He gives a final show of respect to his friend and mentor. For now this all he can do. With renewd clarity he rushes towards his destination, determined to acomplish his task quickly and return to and aid his companions, as soon as possible.
-
A mouse is relentless. Even when Sembas's mundane senses fail him, Chico presses him further. He follows his little friend to the patch of bushes by an entrance to the building.
Chico hollers, and Sembas readies his spear. Electricity still arcs through the tip, having been charged earlier. Anlaf circles above, flying in tighter spans than before. As the Falconer draws closer, three shadows erupt from the bushes. Each holds a poised throwing knife aimed directly at him.
His eyes narrow as the three shadowy Cowards rear back. Instead of turning tail and allowing Navar to escape into the shadows once again, Sembas lunges forward. (Strength - Athletics) With a wide spin of his spear, he attempts to knock the throwing knives out of the air. Faile flies faster than any throwing knife, at least according to her she does. His eyes are focused from practicing dodging her dives during training. He should be able to judge well enough to bat away a couple of the incoming knives.
Hopefully.
In the meantime, as soon as the three Cowards burst from the bushes, Anlaf enters a dive. His charge from the Lightning Hawk spell still lingers as well. As the three Navar's release their knives, Anlaf releases the lightning. They are grouped close enough together that the bolts of electricity should arc through all three of them.
Should the lightning hit its mark, Sembas is hoping that it will dispel the false Cowards. If so, he will press on the one remaining. If not, he will focus on the closest one, gambling that his choice is correct.
-
@Fjorin:
For a time, your conflicting thoughts had cast a cloud of confusion upon your purpose. All you had known or thought to be true was inexplicably twisted in your mind. Catujel’s words are perceived less as deception, and more as irrefutable truths. Yet, when your thoughts seek out Honor, as much as your mind tries to tell you his death was not a noble sacrifice, but a foolish move, your heart rallies against this concept, decrying it a falsehood.
A thundering roar erupts from your throat, and Catujel’s eyes widen with fear and amazement. The chain shatters in your hands and you find yourself freed from whatever strange effect Catujel’s words had held over you. His silver tongue has ceased to wag, and his shock has deprived him of movement. For the moment at least, you have the advantage.
@Aeliana:
Recognizing Ravana as a formidable threat, you use your Sever spell upon her in an attempt to restrict her access to her powers. While this action does not sever her ability to use her arts, you have definitely managed to strike some kind of a blow. The construct stops in its tracks, and Ravana’s eyes widen in surprise. You see her gesticulating wildly in an attempt to regain control. She manages to make the machine move, but you can visibly see the amount of effort it is taking for her to force the machine forward.
Given an advantage due to the construct’s power having been significantly diminished due to its user’s lack of control, Dennan collides with the construct, his silver greataxe tearing massive chunks of metal from its mechanical legs. Sparks flash as the axe rains down a flurry of blows upon the behemoth.
@Sig:
The interventions of both your newly arrived ally and Dennan manage to buy you some time. You manage to regain your composure and begin to play Crescendo upon your lute. You can feel an invigorating sense of power affect your form, but suddenly your eyes fall upon Blood.
Your hands stop; your tune frozen in mid-note. Your heart nearly seizes in your chest at the sight of her. There are multiple wounds, rather severe wounds, upon her body. She no longer appears to be bleeding, but she is certainly bruised, battered, and much the worse for wear. She is being supported by an unfamiliar man with ebony hair and piercing blue eyes, and she leans heavily upon him, her face twisted in a grimace of pain as she attempts to move forward.
You see that the scar upon her forehead is unaffected; she has not been dealt a mortal blow, but you have never before seen her look so injured and vulnerable, and the sight has jarred you considerably. Whatever happened inside that building must have been quite incredible to have left the Captain in such a state.
Additionally, you see Blood’s companions also bear the signs of battle. You are left with a decision to make: do you continue your attack, or attempt to tend to the wounded with one of your healing abilities?
@Sembas:
Using your natural athletics, you manage to bat away the incoming knives. You count yourself quite lucky, because as one of them nicks shaft of your spear, you hear a strange sizzling sound, and catch a glimpse of some strange corrosion that mars the finish of your nearly perfect weapon. You shudder at the thought of what could have happened if one of those knives had found their way to your flesh.
Anlaf dives downward, releasing the lightning. Your plan was a complete success! Two of the Cowards instantly disappear from view, while the third stares at you with his mouth agape and fear in his eyes. You press forward, taking the offense against the stunned, Navar Coward.
He moves with incredible speed, doing all he can to stay out of melee range with you. As you come forward, his body twists backward in the air and over the bush he had used for cover just moments ago. He take off at a breakneck speed, attempting to put as much distance between himself and you as he can.
@Siron:
Whatever Fjorin did on his way through had triggered several traps, rendering them useless to harm you. You silently remind yourself to bring him a pint when you get back to Avalon. You follow Punisher’s directions to the living quarters. There is a large, open room with couches, a fireplace, and plush pillows. On a low table in the center of the room are half eaten pastries, joints of meat, and half-full bottles and tankards of wines and ales. Your thoughts drift to the angular cheekbones of Aeliana, her skin taut and her collarbones sticking out of her upper dress sharply. Apparently the Forsaken had lived quite comfortably while the poor woman and her guardian had been starved and mercilessly tortured just a few rooms down the hall.
You find that this room has four doors, two to the left, and two to the right. There is a small staircase, and at the top, you can glimpse a lush and luxurious four-poster bed with silk sheets and down-filled blankets. You correctly guess that was likely Fortuna’s room and you swiftly make your way up the stairs and into her quarters.
There are half-open scrolls upon the bed, and in the corner, a bookshelf nearly overburdened with tomes. You glance around the room until your eyes fall upon a chest in the corner of the room. Its dimensions and physical features match the description Punisher had given you, so you move forward to take the chest, conscious of Azazel’s warnings not to attempt to open it.
As you near the chest, there is a sharp, rattling sound behind you.
“Hey! You! Over here! Get me out of here! It sounds like this place is about to collapse at any second!”
You turn in the direction of the voice and your gaze falls upon a cat locked in a cage in the corner of the room farthest from the door. You think it’s a cat at least. This is the first cat you’ve seen that is blue in color, and it appears somewhat larger than the average barn cat. Its yellow eyes have a strange glow as it gazes up at you pleadingly.
Its whiskers twitch. “Please! Hurry! Get me out of here! If you don’t help me, I’ll die in here! I heard Fortuna leave! I heard that blasted portal! I doubt she’ll be back anytime soon and I’m liable to starve to death in here!”
You move closer to get a better look. “Come on! Please!” The cat sniffs the air, its whiskers twitching. “Wait! You’re an Ageless? Well, I’m good friends with the Ageless! Even had tea with the General herself! I love the Ageless. Stand-up folk. Not like those nasty Forsaken types. In fact, was on an errand for good old Dethys when they picked me up and stuffed me in some sack like a common rat!"
The creatures senses your reluctance to trust him. "Cyan! Cyan’s my name! How about you let me out of here? Go ahead! It’s not a magical lock. No, if it was a magical lock I could get out! No… she didn’t need to do that… Humiliating.”
If cats are capable of frowning, that is the expression this creature has now. “Can’t touch iron directly, not without bursting into flames anyway. So what does she do? Sticks me in an iron cage! Puts me on this itty bitty slab of wood to sit on like some canary on a perch, and says if I step an inch off it, the iron will take care of me just fine! The nerve!”
"What do you say, good sir? Help out a poor sod in need?" The creatures tilts its head to the side, imploring your assistance. His golden eyes shine brightly, and you can't help but to smile at the good-natured creature. He's blue... he's fluffy... you hate to admit it, but he's stinking adorable.
His story sounds likely enough; if Fortuna had shown such cruelty to humans, imagine what she could do to a defenseless animal. But even as the thought enters your mind, you get the sense this creature isn't entirely helpless. In fact, if Fortuna left him alive, he must have some importance.
-
Watching her new found allies fight, it was nice to know that it appeared she were in capable company. Her vision catches one of them off to the right deflecting coward's knives with his spear and launching an assault of his own, meanwhile a gutteral roar echoes forth from another spot in the courtyward. It appeared as if one of her allies had defeated the attack on him and was getting ready to counter.
Now that she knew her companions had their own situations at least somewhat under control, she felt safer to put all of her power to nullifying the major magical threat in the area. Her muscles tense as she drew on further amounts of magical energy around her. A small scalpal like blade of magic had started the process, it was time to see that Ravanna no longer draw on her source of power.
Like a sledge hammer Aeliana sent a pulse of power at the Sever spell she had been maintaining. It slammed into the other, trying to force the energy between Ravanna and her own like a chisel between rock. Again, she threw another bolt of energy at the chisel. She could feel the crack there, it was time to split the flow of the other caster's magic. Again and again she sent pulse after pulse, each growing in strength until, with a small grunt of effort, she threw a bolt of energy to drive the sever home, throwing as much power as she could into it, so as to stop the threat in its tracks. [Intelligence - Spellcasting: Sever]
-
Though Fjorin was free of Catujel's mind tricks, he had hardly regained his composure. With a growl that hissed from between his teeth, both hands clenching the handle on his blade tightly, he lunges forward with all of his (STRENGTH - DAMAGE), intent on impaling Catujel through the chest in an attempt to both silence and immobilize the craven bastard with a single stroke. Should he succeed, Fjorin would twist his blade, and briefly lift his foe before returning the sword's edge to the earth, pinning Catujel until the Northman is done with him.
-
Siron rushes quickly through the way back. He takes notice of the triggered traps and is relieved that there is not a single trace of blood there. Following Punisher’s instructions, he continuous on his way to the living quarters. In there he is met by the lavish life style of the Forsaken, comparing it to the almost starved to death prisoners, it reinforces the already bad reputation of the servants of the Advesery.
Quickly and easily locating Fortuna's quarters, he enters carefully and takes a quick look around. Upon locating the chest the young knight approaches its location intent on retrieving it. A sudden noise startles the knight and in response he quickly turns towards the source, with a hand ready to draw his weapon he takes a poised to strike stance.
“Hey! You! Over here! Get me out of here! It sounds like this place is about to collapse at any second!”
A weird cat like creature is caged up at a corner in the room. Siron approaches and gets a closer look. Blue fur, slightly bigger than a normal cat and with yellow eyes. He does not know what this is, neither has he seen a creature like that nor has he heard of any of its kind. One thing was certain, it was no ordinary animal. He had to be careful in dealing with it.
The creature continues to plead for help and explains its situation and claims to have connection with the ageless. Though he had to admit there was a certain cuteness oozing off the creature, there was also the fact that everything that the Forsaken came in contact with so far, has been either used or killed. Not to mention that most of those things are extremely dangerous. Mistrust befalls the knight and he finds it hard to believe any of what Cyan is saying. On one hand he could leave him and be done with it, on the other if what the blue fur ball was saying is true, he would leave a would be ally to his death, which is unacceptable. A compromise had to be made one which would insure the creature would be safe and it won’t be given a chance to harm anyone.
Siron takes a short look at his bloodstained armor. Now it had stains from both, the captain and Honor. “I... have no thrust left to give.” He turns and goes to the bed. “Tell me, what were you doing for Dethys when they caught you?” Holding up the covers, he unsheathes Honor's sword and cuts two large pieces of fabric. “To be alive after being imprisoned by Fortuna means you know something or can do something for her.” He takes one of the pieces and pushes it in the cage. “Stand still and don’t do anything funny.” Grabbing the edges of the fabric through the gaps in the iron bars, he spreads it making a make shift floor from the fabric, so that the cat like creature can move around at least a little. Taking the second piece, he spreads it on top to cover Cyan as well.
“Until your words are proven, I will have to ask you to put up with this. I apologies but this is all I will offer you for now.”
Returning to the chest Siron picks it up and measure's its weight. Determining he can handle the weight with relative ease, he secures it on his left shoulder with one arm. After moving to the iron cage he crouches next to it, so that it is on his right side. Tilting the cage the knight puts his arm under it and presses it towards him. This traps the cage between the hand, armpit and his side.
“You have something you want to say before we go Cyan? This might turn into a bumpy ride.”
-
Sembas has always made sure to keep a full quiver of arrows at his back while in the field. He uses them sparsely, making each shot count. A while ago, Archer gifted him a quiver of enchanted arrows that always hit their mark. He does not always carry the full 12, but there are always at least one or two of them with him at all times.
Today, he is carrying six of these enchanted arrows in his quiver. His fingers grab the shaft of one of them and places the nock on his taut bowstring. His shortbow bends as he pulls back the drawstring. He has practiced this motion many times before, and he does it without thinking.
His thoughts are occupied by channeling the Leash Arrow spell. As the spell comes to completion he lets the arrow fly.
Jonas Philosophy had one request for Sembas - to try and redeem any Forsaken he has the chance to. As dangerous as Navar Coward is, Sembas cannot justify taking his life before at least speaking with the man.
The Leash Arrow pierces the ground next to Navar, releasing its spell on him. Sembas has another one of Archer's enchanted arrows drawn on his bowstring already, trained on Coward's back.
"Navar!" He yells. "Hold still! The second arrow will not miss its mark, and it is aimed at your back." He pauses for a breath to allow this to sink in. Hopefully his leash has taken effect. "While we are on two different sides of this struggle, I do not for wish your death. If you are tired of hiding in the shadows of the Forsaken, I can help you walk in the light of the Divine."
-
Sig is not one to turn down a good challenge as long as he's not sober, but he is elated when backup finally arrives. Going one on one with a spellcaster is not really the Chosen's strong suit. And with Ravana's attention mercifully turned elsewhere, Sig can now bring his most powerful ballads into play.
Or at least that was the plan. Once Sig sees Blood, the first few notes of his Crescendo die out with the sour sound of misplucked strings. For Blood to be in that condition...
...No. No time for speculation now. Sig is a fighter, like all of his Chosen brethren, but healing is his true calling. Sig focuses his efforts on the area of the most immediate need.
Sig focuses his mind on Blood as his fingers begin to fly across the strings. The song he plays is not a loud epic ode to combat, but a beautiful uplifting melody that would raise the spirits of anyone who heard it, if it did not sound muted to all but one. Blood is the only one who will hear this song at it's clearest and most beautiful. And as Sig continues to plar, Alviss lends his power directly to her, binding her wounds and restoring her energy. Should Sig's song reach it's conclusion, she should find herself healed of all but the most grievous wounds and ready to fight once more. (Wisdom-Spiritual Magic [MELODY OF LIFE])
-
@Sig:
Blood wearily raises her eyes to meet yours as the Melody of Life begins to take effect. The black-haired man supporting her and the slender, red-haired woman next to her are both deaf to the beautiful tune that only Blood can hear. She forces a smile of reassurance, to let you know that she’ll be alright. As the song continues its effect, Blood begins to straighten, and she is able to take a bit more of her own weight upon her feet. Her breathing is a little less labored, and her wounds, previously aided by Aeliana, are well on their way to healed with your additional assistance.
The black-haired man next to her places his hand on her shoulder to steady her, but after a moment, she gives him a silent nod to indicate she will be fine on her own. Her eyes fall upon the mechanical behemoth Dennan is laying waste to. The creature swings its arm forward at Ravana’s command, colliding with Dennan’s side. The mountainous son of the General roars and continues his relentless assault with his greataxe upon what serves as the construct’s legs.
Blood exchanges a look with the man beside her and motions to the machine. The man nods in understanding and takes his ebony axe into his hands. Both he and Blood start forward but they are interrupted by…
@Sembas:
Your arrow is infallible in its pursuit of Navar Coward. It lands exactly as intended. The Leash Arrow pierces the ground and Coward, caught by surprise, is firmly rooted to the spot.
As you call out to him, Coward’s eyes peer out from under his ebony hood. His eyes are narrowed, studying your face as if to determine if you are telling the truth. For a moment, he seems to consider your words, and a look of something resembling longing affects his features.
Nearby, Fjorin and Catujel are engaged in a battle of wits and war. Coward’s moment of clarity is dispelled with a shake of his head, as if he is rousing himself awake after a dream.
“I cannot walk in the light. The Divine has cast his shadow upon me, and it is my calling to embrace it.” Cowards smirks. “I was like you once. So full of hope… so… delusional. In time you will come to find that all that glitters is not gold.”
It seems as if Coward’s mind is set.
Until…
@Siron:
At your insistence to keep him confined, Cyan grumbles under his breath. “For all that is good and holy in this world. Divine! What fools these Ageless be! Ugh. Fine. If that’s the best you can do, I certainly prefer escaping this wreck and free meal in Avalon compared to the alternative.”
At your questioning of his purpose Cyan cocks his head to one side. “Well, wouldn’t be much of a secret mission if I went about blabbing it to every Childer Ageless who asked… but… if you must know, I am a Seeker.” Cyan puffs out his fluffy little chest with pride.
At your lack of recognition of the term Seeker, he sighs. “Fine. Let me spell it out for you… Dethys sends me out and about to look for things for him. To SEEK things, if you will. For example, track down the Childer after they’ve been ‘made.’ I was on the trail of a particularly important one when Fortuna’s goons got their mitts on me.”
“Anyway! It’s a prestigious office! Not any Cath-Palug is up to the task! And that’s not all I do mind you! I work reconnaissance! I take on dangerous missions not even meant for Immortalis! I can go places others can’t! I can catch mice! Of course Fortuna would keep me alive! At least until I was no longer useful to her.”
A strange gurgling sound emanates from the cage. “Alright then. Let’s be on our way. This cage is awfully stuffy. Haven’t stretched my legs in days! And did you hear my stomach?” He prods his fluffy belly with an outstretched paw. “You hear that? I think it’s eating itself!”
After some experimentation, you find that it is best to place his cage atop the chest in order to carry both out safely. You make your way towards the front entrance and out to area in front of the building. All around you your companions are engaged in battle with one form of foe or another. A glance towards the enormous hole in the ground reveals that Dennan is no longer at his post and is instead locked in battle with an enormous mechanical behemoth. Only Lai still guards the entrance your party used to reach the surface. You surmise that for the sake of Cyan and the chest, you should make your way in that direction.
However, a glance to your left displays a rather unpleasant, or perhaps given all you have endured today, an exceedingly pleasant sight. The action taking place not far from where you stand, will turn the tide of this battle…
@Fjorin:
Some distance to Siron’s left, Fjorin summons all of his strength to inflict a devastating amount of damage upon Catujel. He thrusts the sword forward, its point tearing through Catujel’s chest. The sound of bones shattering rings in Fjorin’s ears and point of the blade erupts from Catujel’s back, sending rivers of blood down the silver-tongued viper’s chest.
Across the battlefield, there is a deafening scream, and as you prepare to twist your blade and lift your cowardly foe into the air, you feel an incredible force slam into your body, crippling pain affecting your limbs. You stagger, your blade still plunged into Catujel’s chest, but your limbs suddenly weakened. Despite your sincerest motivations to urge them against your opponent, Catujel wrenches himself free and collapses to the ground at your feet, his hand pressed against his chest in an attempt to slow the bleeding.
You fall to your knees and are just barely able to turn your gaze in the direction of the scream. A raven-haired woman of incredible beauty cries out Catujel’s name, and comes barreling towards you.
@Aeliana:
Your Sever spell is proving quite an irritant for Ravana. She uses all of her arcane strength to propel the behemoth further. It raises its mechanical arm intent on smashing the general’s son, who narrowly avoids being crushed under its devastating blow.
Still, with all of your attention focused on isolating Ravana from her powers, you can see that she is having difficulty maintaining her control on the machine. Ravana raises her hands in an attempt to unleash another attack on Dennan, but her motions have no affect on the machine, which now sputters and shakes instead of responding to her commands.
Suddenly the caster’s eyes widen and she lets out an earsplitting scream.
“Catujel!”
Too great is the emotion in her voice to be merely an outcry of concern for a falling companion. It teems with the gut-wrenching heartache of a lover’s heart breaking. It would seem that Catujel and Ravana are far more than simply comrades in arms.
You all feel an enormous rush of air, a strong and powerful current of wind that slams into the enormous warrior fighting nearby.
Without another look to any of you, Ravana takes off across the field at a breakneck speed to aid Catujel.
@All:
Ravana is a blur of motion. Lai lets out a banshee wail in an attempt to impede Ravana. The ground shakes beneath the feet of Fortuna’s pupil, but she does not slow in her course. She kneels beside Catujel, pulling him into his embrace.
“You monster!” She spits the words in Fjorin’s direction and her fists glow with a sickly green hue, she appears as if she is about to do something drastic, and the warrior of the Ebonmane is unable to defend himself.
Catujel, weak from his wounds, lifts his hand to caress her face. “No, my dear. He was a worthy foe. And besides… I wish the pleasure of exacting my own revenge upon him. Fear not… His blade missed its mark… but just.”
Ravana’s jaw is set, her eyes spewing fury. Around her, the air begins to waver and there is a deafening sound as if something is being ripped apart. Ravana helps Catujel to his feet, and behind Ravana, you see a black, jagged seam appear within the air.
“Ravana! A little help here!” Coward calls out to her.
Ravana sneers, ignoring his request. Her expression softens as she looks down at Catujel. She helps him to his feet and the two disappear through the tear in the world. With Ravana gone, Fjorin finds himself in control of his own movements again, his body aches as if he’s been hit by a boulder, but he can at least move again on his own accord. Across the battlefield, the construct collapses to the ground in a lifeless heap of twisted metal, its whirring cogs and mechanics screeching to a sudden and audible halt.
Coward sighs, his shoulders slumping. He calls out to Sembas. “On second thought… Might I take you up on that ‘walking in the light of the Divine offer?’”
-
Throwing bolt of energy after bolt of energy at Ravanna seemed to almost be doing nothing. She growled aloud, uncharacteristically. She was so frustrated right now. First, Fortuna got away, then her apprentice was thwarting her every blow. Her apprentice! She felt like an apprentice again herself, which was not an easy thing to stomach.
Finally though, she did get a little satisfaction however, as her spell seemed to slide into place, disrupting her connection to the golem. She thought maybe they would be able to capture her. Preparing to unleash hell on Ravanna, she draws back her hands, energy building but...
An earsplitting screech peirces the air.
"CATUJEL!"
Aeliana barely supressed a flinch at the emotion in the voice, but her steely resolve stiffened her backbone. She did not release the spell in her hands right away, for, as she was unsure of what was going to happen. She had to be sure, she did not want to harm her companions. She glared as Ravana fled to Catujel, and watched as she knelt to embrace him.
As the apprentice glared up at fjorin, a sickening green glow forms around Ravanna's hand, she readies to pummel Ravana, but as quickly as if forms it disappears, apparently at a word from Catujel.
She does flinch as a deafoning noise rips through the air, a tear in what appeared to be the fabric of the world. She was making a portal elsewhere!
Aeliana cursed under her breath and quickly changed the spell she was going to cast. She now threw out a much simpler one. Her vision sought out any metal on Ravana in particular, but should she not have any on, Catujel would be her next target. With a small flick of her wrist, she unleased [Intelligence - Spellcasting: Seeking]. She wanted to at least be able to know where they would be.
As the portal closes, her gaze turns to Coward, and her gaze turns into a glare. One that could pin a man to a wall. She knew he was caught. Taking a few steps closer, dried blood flaking off the stiff dress, she did nothing yet but glare at the man. She had caused him a lot of pain as well.
-
The idea of Siron's brother getting away sickened Fjorin, and yet, Catujel's vengeful words very well may have saved him from finding out whatever sorcery the witch was gathering at her fingertips was. His muscles ached horrendously as he gathered himself to his feet in an attempt to acquire the situation. It was clear the Forsaken were in a state of retreat, but he had focused too vigorously on Catujel alone... in fact, the warrior didn't even know who it was who had so easily defeated him.
He looked on at the Ageless around him. Though his stone face revealed nothing, he could not help but feel some degree of regret having thought so ill of the Ageless if even for a moment... and that there were parts of him that still questioned their motives. Perhaps Catujel's silver tongue had done more than he knew. Perhaps Fjorin was just a tool of another's war once again.
By the valkyries, what had he done? He had entirely lost his mind for a moment... he truly meant to kill Catujel, despite what he had told Siron.
Sir Siron. Fjorin's head turned, his peripherals taking notice of Siron's form. He looked at the knight briefly, and quickly averted his eyes to hide his shame. Not only had he failed to capture Catujel... he had nearly killed the man. In Fjorin's eyes, he had broken his words to Siron twice.
Thankfully, it seemed Fjorin and Siron were the only ones to watch a comrade die this day. Captain Blood, Dennan, the falconer, the strange bard, and Lai... they were still well. A sense of relief washed over him, though he was not sure why.
And now, it seemed there were three more potential recruits among the Ageless. While Fjorin's trust is thin at this point, he makes no objections.
Their objective secured, Fjorin walks toward the escape route where Lai awaits, his posture making him seem somewhat smaller than before.
-
Sembas has been aware of Ravana during his struggle with Navar. It would be foolish not to. But he is fully concentrated on Navar at the moment, not wanting the man to disappear once again. Her scream causes him to flinch, nearly loosing his arrow. He settles his nerve and his grip, not moving his eyes from Coward. A mouse is relentless, after all.
“Ravana! A little help here!” Coward calls out to his supposed companion. Finding no aid coming his way, the man slumps and quickly reconsiders Sembas's offer.
The falconer lowers his bow, relieving the tension on the string. He does not remove the arrow as he stands and considers Navar.
"Forgive me for my caution, but I'm going to have to ask you to surrender your weapons. It will be easier if you just set them on the ground in front of you there."
Sembas calls to the rest of the group, "Navar has yielded to us. He is going to lay down his weapons. Do not harm him unless he tries something."
A coward's words are one thing, his actions another. Anlaf and Chico still watch him intently, prepared to shout if Navar goes back on his word.
-
Cyan states he is a seeker and upon seeing Siron’s confused expression, goes into a charade describing the position and its status. The creature mentions an odd word that seems to b what his kind is called. “Cath-Palug…,” says Siron out loud, nudging his brain for a memory of it. “Cath-Palug…,” he repeats, but this time to commit it to his memory. He nods, more to himself rather than Cyan, confirming he has remembered the word.
“Then we shall be on our way,” states Siron after Cyan has finally stopped talking. The knight tosses one more look at the creature and breaths out a shallow sigh. “Upon confirming your words, I will offer you my apologies for both, the rough treatment and my lack of knowledge of you and your station.” He tries to compensate his actions and satisfy the creature’s apparent sense of self importance, just in case. Thinking on whether to or not to offer him some of the scarps of food that he saw earlier, he decides it would be a waste of time and instead continues on his way back.
Upon leaving through the shattered door, accredited to Captain Blood, he trails after Aelina and his other companions. He slows down when met with the chaos that is the battle field outside.
Sparing only a few moments to grasp the situation, he sees no fight that requires his immediate attention, apart from Dennan, but for that one he is unsure of whether he will be of help or just a hindrance. He also notes Catujel’s and Fjorin’s fight and intends to enter it as soon as the opportunity arises. For now the obvious choice is to priorities the safety of the Cath-Palug and deliver him safely to the gaping hole in the ground. Taking a quick paced stride towards his destination, he is interrupted by a high pitched scream. A woman, after screaming his brother’s name, rushes towards Fjorin’s fight at a breath taking speed. Judging that his time as a glorified golfer has to end now, he lets the chest on the ground and carefully places the cage next to it. Dashing at full speed, he unsheathes his two handed sword bent on impaling the black haired woman’s back. Before his blade has the chance to reach her, however, she and his brother leave through a teleport, which the sorceress conjured.
Though unfortunate, his brother’s escape is not something surprising. Catujel was always the type prepared for anything, though this time around it seems the Ebonmane warrior broke through all that and faced the man head on. Seeing how the battle is over, he walks towards Fjorin. Knowing the disappointment and shame Fjorin might be feeling, he tries to ease the warrior.
“Worry not, one way or another, justice will be served. You did more than what I could have hoped for. Thank you friend.“ Though that is what he is saying, inside he is both furious and frustrated. His brother, Honor’s murder he got away! While he was running around… he quickly dispels those thoughts. Helping the captain and Miss Aelina is the priority, not exacting revenge. That is what matters most, even though his clenched fist might want to say otherwise.
-
Seeing that the combat is at least temporarily over, Sig seamlessly moves from the song he was playing for Blood into another, less subdued tune. This one can be heard by all of Sig's allies nearby. While the affect is not nearly as dramatic as Blood's healing from the first song, Sig's allies can feel strength returning to them and some of their more grievous wounds slowly closing. (Wisdom - Spiritual Magic [BLISSFUL HYMN])
Sig is lost in his music and will continue to play (and extend the effects) until he is interrupted.
-
Siron's praise was great, but it seemed to fall on deaf ears. For a moment, he says nothing. After some thought, Fjorin glances at the knight - his eyes filled with resolve.
"The promise still stands."
He turns away, and makes his way to the hole in silence, his stature returned. It seemed even the hulking Ebonmane warrior was susceptible to kind words.
-
Aeliana's spell latched onto a silver and amethyst medallion on Ravana's person, but any hope of tracking their whereabouts is rendered useless after they passed through the portal. Wherever they went is nowhere in the mortal realm, or if it is, it must be heavily warded.
The dulcet sounds of Sig’s lute affects his allies, healing any remaining wounds party members may have suffered. In addition, should Sig will it, his tune will aid in further healing Punisher, who has recently joined with the Ageless.
Coward grumbles under his breath at Sembas’s request for him to surrender his weapons. He drops both of his daggers on the ground and sets himself to the arduous task of relieving himself of his arms. After nearly twenty minutes, the daggers have been joined by five vials of poison, a pouch of some kind of powder, five throwing daggers, a handful of shuriken, a bootknife, a small blowgun, a set of nunchaku, three different garrotes (rope, chain, and wire,) and a small, hand-mounted crossbow.
“There,” announces Coward. “Happy?”
Blood glowers at him. “All of it, Navar.”
“But that’s-”
Blood’s face reddens, her patience already very thin. “ALL OF IT, NAVAR.”
Coward rolls his eyes and reaches to his sides to reveal two more daggers. He glances back to Blood who frowns at him in reply. With a sigh, he reaches to his back and pulls a wakizashi and a tonto from two sheathes hidden beneath his shirt. Five more minutes, a set of tonfa, and three punch daggers later, Blood gives a silent nod, satisfied that Navar is finally disarmed.
“So what now?” asks Lai.
“Well, we can’t take them back to Avalon,” speaks Blood.
“Why?” questions Lai. “Wouldn’t it make sense to interrogate them? Torture them a bit? Judging from that poor woman over there, they’d certainly deserve it.”
“That is not the way of the Ageless,” comes Dennan’s rumbling reply.
“We don’t believe in taking prisoners,” adds Blood. “To bring a Forsaken into our hallowed city would be foolhardy. It would give them a foot in the door to wreak havoc and destruction in Avalon.”
Lai shakes her head, uncomprehending. “Then what do we do with them? We can’t just let them walk away.”
“He has a choice to make,” speaks Dennan. “We will not force him to join our ranks. Either he repents of his crimes against the Divine and proves his words through his actions, or he may accept a challenge of single combat with me.”
Coward gulps. “Well, the Divine and I haven’t got on well in recent days, but I’m not about to exchange blows with the son of the Blood-Warden General. I suppose I can give the Holy Father another chance.”
“This is not a game, Coward,” speaks Blood warningly.
Coward raises his hands defensively. “Look, in all honesty, I’ve been looking for an excuse to leave the Forsaken anyway. I’m not saying I’m about to hug it out with the Divine just yet, but I’m willing to give him another chance… on a trial basis of course.”
“Fine, Navar. But you follow my every order. You step out of line even once and I’ll run you through in a heartbeat.” Blood turns her attention back to the party. “We came to do a mission, and it is one we need to see through. However, Miss Ebraldi is in no state to go to the Marrow at this point. In addition, Askall is injured and the Crimson Wolves need to make their way back to Avalon. We only have one scroll. Once we use it up, we have no way back, so the way I see it, we split up. We send a small party to Avalon, and the rest of us continue on.”
“Well, I vote we go back to Avalon,” comes a small voice.
Blood whirls around to face Siron, her eyes drifting to the cage in his hand. Recognition passes over her face at the sound of the Cath-Palug's voice. She moves forward, and peers into the cage. “Cyan?”
“Milady.” With glowing yellow eyes, Cyan looks up at Siron. “See? I am who I say I am. Can I get out of here now?”
Blood examines the cage. “Iron, huh?”
Cyan sighs. “Well, obviously! If it had been anything but iron I would have been out of here days ago!”
“And what of the mission you were on for Dethys?” questions Blood.
Cyan shakes his head. “No luck, boss lady. I’ve got some other leads. Been a rough go, though. Wouldn’t mind some fresh salmon and a nice comfy pillow for a couple of days before I set out again.”
“Fair enough,” agrees Blood. Her hand goes to the lock upon the cage. She grips it between her fingers and twists, then pulls it free from the door of the cage. She opens the door looking at Cyan expectantly. He readies himself to jump but glances up at Blood pleadingly.
“Come on, friend. I’m an excellent jumper, but I’d had to miss my mark and end up a pile of ash,” begs Cyan.
“Hmm… Are you sure it’s fear of the iron and not the knowledge you must compensate for the extra mice you’ve eaten?” She pokes him in his fluffy belly.
Back in the confines of Sembas’s pocket, Chico squeaks.
Blood relents, reaching into the cage and carefully maneuvering Cyan from within. She places him upon the ground where he gingerly begins to lick his paws.
Blood straightens herself. “Sembas, you had the option to kill Coward, but you allowed him to survive. The time for his execution has past. He is your responsibility now."
Blood continues. "The Crimson Wolves, Cyan, Aeliana, Sig, and Siron will make their way back to Avalon. Sending them to Avalon will use up our only scroll. We’ll need a powerful mage to get us back to the gates. Dethys is… indisposed, and Serenity is Divine knows where. Cleo can’t leave the gates…”
Blood ponders for a moment. “As much as I hate to have that kook along…” Blood sighs. “Siron, you must go to Dethys and ask him to send Hermit. His brain is half-addled, and to be quite honest I can’t stand that blasted codger... I doubt he can wipe his own ass, but he's a talented mage. Unfortunately, he’s the best we’ve got at present. He knows how to Travel and will be able to get us from the Marrow to Cleo."
Blood turns her gaze to Sig. "Hobgoblin... I need you to go to the General. Tell her of the construct we encountered here and all that has transpired upon this Hill. Tell her Coward and Punisher have joined us, at least temporarily." Blood turns to the rest of you. "The rest of us, Coward and Punisher included, will continue on.”
Dennan uses his command over the earth to bring the Crimson Wolves to the surface. Blood embraces her son, holding him tightly for several moments before tenderly kissing him upon the forehead.
Vartan presses his face into Blood's shoulder. "Please be careful, Mother."
"I'll be home before you know it, my dear."
Blood turns her attention to the scroll in her hands. Her brow furrows as she reads over the words written in Dethys's messy scrawl. "How he expects anyone to be able to read this garbage..." After a few tries, she is able to discern the words written on the scroll and begins to speak in a long forgotten language. A mass of swirling, golden light forms a portal in front of the party, a portal which will allow the designated party members to pass through to the Gates.
-
Sig frowns at Blood's request. Not because she called him Hobgoblin again, but because the idea of returning to Avalon now, with more combat to be had, and without Blood herself, was distressing.
"Now lass, I'm not one to normally second guess an order, but ya know I'm much more useful here with you than back through there playing messenger. I'm not even very fast. Stubby legs and all that. I'm thinkin that you're makin a mistake by sendin me away now. The Father's healin has already proved itself useful, and I get the feelin that it might be needed again."
Sig does his best to look defiant. He knows damn well that if she asks him to leave again, he'll have no choice but to respect her decision. But that doesn't mean he's not going to try and plead his case.
-
She blinked as she watched coward disarm himself over the next twenty five minutes. That was quite an impressive array of armaments for any one person to be carrying on their body.
Suddenly something in the conversation caught her attention.
“Wouldn’t it make sense to interrogate them? Torture them a bit? Judging from that poor woman over there, they’d certainly deserve it.”
She directed a glare at Lai.
"That would make us the same as they. I do not think that would be wise"
She kept her gaze on Lai for a moment but allowed it to return to the others as they conversed.
“We came to do a mission, and it is one we need to see through. However, Miss Ebraldi is in no state to go to the Marrow at this point. In addition, Askall is injured and the Crimson Wolves need to make their way back to Avalon. We only have one scroll. Once we use it up, we have no way back, so the way I see it, we split up. We send a small party to Avalon, and the rest of us continue on.”
The marrow?. They were going there? Thoughts ran through her head. She had gave her word to Azazel that should they get the chance, that she would assist in freeing his family. Blood was right too, though, she was in no condition to do much. She growled lightly under her breath, and took Azazel by the sleeve to pull him to one side to have a private conversation.
She glanced at Cyan as she moved, wondering what sort of creature it was, but figured if it was going to Avalon with her, she would be able to study it at another time. She turned to face Azazel as they had moved far enough away.
"I am imagining that you just heard what I heard" She said quietly "That their mission is in the Marrow. I gave you my word that I would assist you in seeing that your family got freed. Because you helped me escape and joined us, you now have the opportunity to see them free. Blood is right, however, I am in no shape to go with." She frowned, it was obvious that she wanted to go with, but she had no right to put herself in danger without good cause after these people had lost someone trying to rescue her.
"You have a chance for many things now, Azazel. I want you to come back and talk with me when this is done. I have a feeling that you were a good man, and you have proved yourself to be when you turned on Fortuna, someone who could have killed us both easily, to help me escape... I only wish you would have come to your senses sooner..." Tear glittered in her eyes, but did not fall. She would not cry again, not here, in front of everyone.
"Stay alive Azazel, and come back. I wish to talk with you"
She held up a hand in front of him, and magical energy formed softly around it. She closed her hand and the energy puffed away into small traces, like whisps of smoke, that sought out any metal on Azazel's form. Intelligence [Spellcasting] - Seeking
She let out a breath, nodded to him and slipped past him, to address the group gathered there.
"I want to thank you all. I know that that cannot bring back those who have paid the ultimate price for your mission today, but you all have my utmost appreciation, and I will forever remember those who have aided and those who have fallen for me today. Know that if you need help or anything of the sort, seek me out and I will do what I can for you." [Charisma - Leadership] She looked to each of those in turn, whether they turned to face her or not.
With that, she moved over to blood, stopping in front of the woman, looking her in the face
"I have no right to place myself in such danger after you all have sacrificed much to see me free. I do thank you from all of my heart. I worry what Fortuna was going to do to me. Someday, I will find her and I will see her pay for everything she has done" There was a resolution in her voice.
"I will accept going back to Avalon without argument, however, I have a request. Azazel was doing what he was doing because Fortuna trapped some of his family's souls in the Marrow. I ask that if there is an opportunity, that you free them if you can." She lowered her voice "I know this is much to ask, but I do believe that despite what he was forced to do, he is a good man."
-
After Coward disarms himself, Sembas returns his bow and arrow to his back and begins to approach the man.
He stops in his tracks as Blood demands all of his weapons, and Navar produces even more weapons from his person.
Once again, Sembas steps forward. Only to halt from Blood's shout.
He waits until Blood finally gives a nod before attempting to approach again. He casually walks toward Navar, listening to the conversation about what to do with him.
Blood straightens herself after dealing with some sort of cat. “Sembas, you had the option to kill Coward, but you allowed him to survive. The time for his execution has past. He is your responsibility now."
Sembas looks at Navar, studying him for a moment. He finally speaks. "I rely on my sight." He glances at Anlaf, still flying in lazy circles above. "Falcons have very good vision, after all. But I found myself lacking against an opponent that cannot be seen or tracked. If it wasn't for Chico here, I probably would not have stood a chance. You have my respect." He offers his hand for a handshake.
"Will it be dangerous where we are headed?" Sembas asks to the group as he waits for Coward's response to his hand.
-
Siron nods, he could see that the Ebonmane warrior means to remain true to his word. The only thing he would be afraid of would be that after the news of Honor’s death reaches Avalon, if it hasn’t already, there will be a lot of competition aiming for his brother’s head. The knight himself included of course. There was no point to think of his brother and his heinous actions right now. Most likely he was out of anyone’s reach and into the embrace of the sorceress that aided him in his escape.
The majority of the next half an hour is occupied by Navar Coward, who is in the process of disarming himself, a task that appears to be taking him an astounding amount of time. Never the less, with the assistance of the captain the task is finally completed.
Navar’s joining of the ranks of the ageless, which follows after a short debate, looks like conscription. With the choices being join us or face the truly immortal son of the general. Though he would wish to argue of the fairness of this, the very fact the Ageless give their enemy the option to live comes with a great risk to them. It would seem the decision is a gamble for either of the two sides, no matter which way it goes.
“Well, I vote we go back to Avalon,”
Siron is a bit startled hearing Cyan’s voice. He had almost forgotten he was carrying the cat like creature.
“Cyan?”
“Milady. See? I am who I say I am. Can I get out of here now?”
“My apologies,” the knight leaves the cage on the ground and the captain assists the creature and helps it get out of it.
"The Crimson Wolves, Cyan, Aeliana, Sig, and Siron will make their way back to Avalon... The rest of us, Coward and Punisher included, will continue on.”
The captain’s orders are clear. Siron had no words to say. Right now there was no order, he would question. Trying not to think of what has happened he simply stands and waits. Any thoughts about Honor would simply stir him up right now. As soon as the portal was opened, he was first in line to jump in.
-
@Sig:
“This matter is not up for debate, Sig.” Blood’s tone is firm, yet her eyes betray her. She’s hiding something, though what, you don’t have the slightest clue. “When that portal opens, you’re going through it. As a Chosen of Alviss, you are our best bet of figuring out what these constructs are and how to ensure the Forsaken have no access to make any more of them. The library in Avalon may have information. For now, take this.”
Blood crosses to the construct and plunges her hand into the center of the rubble. She fishes around in the parts for some time before her hand emerges with a large, round, red stone. The stone glows with a life of its own, and you immediately recognize it: it’s an Arkenstone.
At once, you are both horrified and transfixed. It is said that Alviss forms his children from the living rock, and where a mortal’s heart would be held, it is in its place that every Chosen of Alviss has an Arkenstone. When Alviss breathes life into his children, the stone softens, and forms the resilient hearts of the Chosen of Alviss, and when a Chosen dies and is returned to the living rock, the Arkenstone once again becomes a magnificent jewel of immense power. The Arkenstones are recycled to form new Chosen of Alviss.
Your amazement turns to rage. How would the Forsaken have access to an Arkenstone? No one outside of the hallowed halls of the All-father would even have knowledge of the Arkenstones. It is a secret coveted by the children of the Great Creator. No mortal or Immortalis has ever been welcomed into the halls of Alviss. That means this stone was either stolen somehow, or smuggled out by one of Alviss’s own children and into the waiting hands of a Forsaken. More horrifying than anything else is the fact that it was obviously this stone that was powering the construct.
What will this mean for the growing relationship between the Ageless and the previously self-isolated race of the Chosen of Alviss? Was that not why you were sent to Avalon in the first place? To help in relations between the Ageless and the Chosen of Alviss? When your brethren learn of this slight, surely they will cease all diplomacy between the outside world and themselves.
Blood places the Arkenstone in your waiting hands. “Take this back to Avalon. Take it directly to General Fury.”
@Aeliana:
At Aeliana’s request, Blood stiffens. It’s obvious she isn’t thrilled by the prospect of having these recently reprieved Forsaken with her in the first place.
Blood sighs. “We will do as you request, but only once our own mission is complete. In fact, by accomplishing our task, it may be that it will fulfill Punisher’s desire to free his family.”
Punisher’s eyes narrow. “What do you mean, Captain?”
Blood is silent, and Punisher’s eyes widen.
“You’re going to break the Confinement Spell, aren’t you? You’re going to free all the spirits from the Marrow!”
“For a very limited time. If the spirits are willing to cooperate and help us to cleanse the fields, the Ageless will consider granting freedom to all of the spirits of the Marrow.”
“That is… hilarious.” Coward chuckles and receives a sharp look from Blood. “Come on, Blood!”
Blood closes the gap between herself and Coward. “That’s Captain Blood to you… Coward…” She pokes him in the chest with her index finger. “And I’ll thank you to remember it.”
“Coward.” The assassin shakes his head. “Who would think self-preservation would result in such an epithet. I wasn’t always called such. Do you even remember my true name, Blood? That which was gifted to me by the Archon on behalf of the Divine?”
“You gave up your rights to that name a long time ago,” sneers Blood.
“You know that if you release all of the spirits, you release both the good and the bad. Do you honestly think those souls who have been so twisted and corrupted by the creature of the Marrow will be able to coexist with mortals? You don’t think they will just return to their previous ways of ensnaring the innocent and forcing them to join them in their curse of eternity?”
“We must at least give them the chance. I’m sure Punisher will attest that there are those within the Marrow who are worth saving,” speaks Blood.
Punisher gives a silent nod of agreement.
“We shall observe their actions and demeanors when their confinement is dispelled, and should they be worthy to rejoin the world, so be it. Yet, if they show the capacity to harm others, if they attempt to work their wickedness on any of us, the Confinement will remain in place,” explains Blood.
Coward shrugs. “Your funeral.”
@Sembas:
As Sembas extends his hand to Navar Coward, the assassin shows some reluctance, examining Sembas’s face carefully, and glancing down at the hand he has offered to him.
“Respect? Huh… Well, that’s something I haven’t heard in a long time.” His features soften and he accepts Sembas’s gesture.
“Dangerous is an understatement, Sembas,” comes Blood’s reply. “We’ve already lost two people, one of whom was a veteran in our ranks, and the other a friend of yours. We’ve already down two of our own and we haven’t even reached the Marrow. Something ancient that defies description lurks in the Marrow, and it is that creature who serves as its ruler. It is that creature who was responsible for collecting the souls here, and in many cases, contorting them, and twisting them beyond repair. Let us hope we can hide from its gaze, and that it does not make an appearance during our time here. You must be on your guard at all times.”
In Sembas’s pocket, Chico shivers, and perched upon the falconer’s shoulder, even Anlaf’s normally steely gaze falters slightly.
@All:
Blood takes up the scrolls and begins to mutter strange words under her breath, words from a long-forgotten language. Aeliana, from her studies, recognizes it as being the language of the Divine himself. While she cannot translate what is being said, she knows the words are a well-kept secret of the Immortalis, and only the most senior or well-regarded in rank know the words of the Divine.
Slowly, a swirling mass of energy takes form, and when the portal has reached its full strength, Blood announces that it is safe to cross through.
“Siron, hold fast to Cyan,” instructs Blood.
Meanwhile, the blue feline leaps into Siron’s hands and nestles against the knight’s chest. “Seriously, don’t let go of me. I don’t want to be ripped apart by the portal. It wouldn’t be a good look for me,” says Cyan.
Siron and Cyan are the first through the portal, followed by the majority of the Crimson Wolves. Vartan crosses to Aeliana and wraps his arms around her protectively as this is her first time through a portal.
“Just hold tight to me, milady. It is unlike anything you’ve felt before, as if your body is being pulled in all directions. Everyone tends to get a little nauseous their first time through, but it will pass quickly.” Vartan assures her. Vartan glances at his mother one last time before assisting Aeliana through the portal.
Last to cross to the portal is a very reluctant Sig. The Arkenstone rests in his hands. It gives off a brilliant crimson light, and is warm to the touch. There is an almost unperceivable low hum emanating from it, and the sound brings some comfort to Sig, yet at the same time, he is uneasy holding something so important in his hands. He still can’t believe an Arkenstone could be found here, far away from the sacred Halls of the All-father.
Blood puts her hand on his shoulder. “I know you don’t want to go, but you know as well as I, this Arkenstone cannot remain in the Marrow. Until you can return it to your people, Avalon is the safest place for it, and I would not trust anyone to bear it to safe haven other than a Chosen of Alviss. Take it to the General, and I assure you she will personally see to its safety until it can be returned to your All-father.”
Blood gently pushes the hair from Sig’s forehead, and places a kiss upon his brow. “Go now, hobgoblin… Before I change my mind.” Blood turns away from him, and Sig gets the sense that it is with great reluctance she watches him depart to Avalon while she must remain with the others in the cursed Marrow.
(From henceforth, until the party is reunited, the group returning to Avalon will be referred to as the Avalon Party, and the group that is remaining will be referred to as the Marrow Party.)
Avalon Party:
For those of you who have crossed through the portals before, you are gradually becoming accustomed to this strange mode of transport, but for Aeliana, she finds the experience is exactly as Vartan described. As she passes into the portal, she feels like every fiber of her being is being tugged upon in a million different directions, and she is thankful for the protective arms of the grizzled warrior who keeps her on her course to the gates.
When you emerge in the Seer’s abode, now in the form of a cabin rather than a tent, Aeliana finds herself struggling to steady herself, but Vartan patiently props her up as she slowly regains her balance. She feels as if the entire room is spinning, but eventually it all slows to a halt as her eyes focus on the state of the cabin.
You all notice that it looks as if an extreme force of nature has devastated everything within. There are large holes in the wooden walls that allow light from the outside to stream in. The furnishings are knocked over and there are shards of broken ceramic plates and cups scattered throughout the room. Books, their innards spilling out in piles of ripped pages, lay strewn about, and in the midst of this chaos stands the Seer, whose stares back at you with a broken expression upon her face. For those of you who have met Cleo before, you know she has always been a bit odd, but to see her in such a state is unsettling, then you remember what she has lost. Her lover, Fenwick, has disappeared without a trace, and perhaps she, as the Seer, is the only one who knows where he has gone.
“You’re here for the gates,” mutters Cleo. “The gates, the gates, the gates. I will open the gates. I will open them. I will open the gates.” She is rambling and half-mad, and you get the feeling that perhaps no one in Avalon knows she is in such a state, otherwise someone would surely be here with her. Siron makes a mental note to alert the Keeper of the gates to what has transpired here.
Vartan crosses the room and places his hands on Cleo’s shoulders. “Miss… I know you are obviously upset about something, and I promise to send you relief as soon as we return to Avalon.”
Cleo’s eyes suddenly focus, and a small smile crosses her face. “Little Vartan. Baby Vartan Crozier. Have you escaped from your mommy again? Does she know you are visiting here? Does she know you long to see the world outside of Avalon? She worries for you. She doesn’t want you to be lost to her… Like your father, little Vartan. She could not bear to see her little boy die as his father died. But that is the way of mortals. They die. They all die. And Ageless, too. I wonder if Wicky will die in Darastae. He is with the Forsaken now while I am stuck here, mourning over his departure. Why Wicky? What need of him would Severan the Deceiver have? Will he die like your daddy, little Vartan? Eventually we must all die. But you have time yet, little Vartan. I know. I have seen it. You shall not be taken so easily.”
The Seer is obviously unhinged over Fenwick’s disappearance, and you are all taken aback when you begin to put together what really happened to Fenwick. He was taken by the Forsaken, just as you had thought; the Seer’s words confirm so much.
Her eyes glaze over and her pupils and irises are engulfed in white, she turns her face towards Siron. “Blood, blood, blood. There is blood upon your hands. Where has Honor gone, Siron Entrima? You carry his gift for the lovely Muse, his one and true beloved, as he was hers. There is blood upon your hands, Siron. Blood, blood, blood.”
“And… and you…” Cleo crosses to Aeliana, and the recently turned Immortal is unnerved by the milky whiteness of the Seer’s eyes. All of Aeliana’s research suggests that those few who are gifted with the second sight have their eyes so affected when they prophesy, but so rare is the gift that Aeliana has never seen it in person.
Cleo cups Aeliana’s hands in her own. “The Seer, the Scribe, and the Scholar… Welcome, Scholar. Shall you be as the book suggests? Will you be so learned in the ways of immortals and men alike that you shall teach the Dying Ones how to slay the Immortalis? Will it turn the tide in our favor? Or will the Dying Ones betray us? The Seer, the Scribe, and the Scholar. The Seer, the Scribe, and the Scholar. The third of the Archmage Trinity will arrive in Avalon, and together they will change the tide of the battle. The Seer, the Scribe, and the Scholar.”
Cleo presses her hands to her ears. “The humming, the humming, the music of the stones. That which the All-father Alviss covets all alone. An Arkenstone in the world of men, old Alviss won’t be pleased…” Her vacant eyes move to Sig. “To Avalon, the last bastion of hope. Take the stone and give it to the Bane of the Forsaken Horde, the Blood-Warden General. To the cathedral it must be taken, for Alviss will not forgive this slight. Only the Divine may make peace with the All-Father. And as you know, Sigurd Glorrack, they aren’t exactly on speaking terms these days.” She winks conspiratorially, the gesture bizarre in light of her milky white eyes.
Cleo’s head rears back, and when it snaps forward again, her eyes have returned to normal. She gazes about the room in confusion. “Oh… Hello. I take it you must return to Avalon. Let me open the gates for you.” Her voice is completely different, calm and composed, as if the last several minutes never occurred. Without another word, Cleo moves to the center of the room and summons a glowing, purple mass of energy to form the portal to Avalon.
One by one you enter the portal, and again, Vartan helps to guide Aeliana through, though she feels much stronger this time. There is a searing light and when you emerge on the other side, the gilded gates of Avalon stand before you, and in front of them stands Aloysius Keeper, Guardian of the Gates, to grant you entrance into Avalon.
-
She puts her hand on bloods arm and nods her silent thanks to her agreeing to look into punisher's family. She turns to move to join the group going to Avalon, the dried blood flaking off the dress she wore. As she passed Punisher she met his eyes, her own face just a little sad that she couldn't personally go with to see this done. She looked away and moved to join the group.
As blood pulled out a scroll and began reading from it, Aeliana's head cocked slightly as she listened. She recognized the language of the divine. She had not been able to translate it, but it was still fascinating to hear it spoke. She watches intently as the portal sprang up before them. Her eyes flit to Vartan as he approaches her. She tenses, muscles rigid as he puts his arms around her.
“Just hold tight to me, milady. It is unlike anything you’ve felt before, as if your body is being pulled in all directions. Everyone tends to get a little nauseous their first time through, but it will pass quickly.”
After a moment, she relaxed and began to wonder what sort of experience this might be. She had gone through her own small portals before, but this might somehow be different than that.
"Okay, thank you. Let's be off then" She said, with what sounded like anticipation in her voice. She moved with Vartan through the portal. She quickly finds herself feeling like she is being pulled in every direction, and finds herself thankful that Vartan is there to help her stabilize herself upon going through. She grips Vartan's arm to steady herself as they exited the portal and slowly the sight before her slid back into focus.
Aeliana frowned as she took in the state of the home. This looked like someone had unleashed a very destructive spell in here. She cast a small spell silently. [Intelligence - Spell-casting (Read Residue)] She looked around to see what may have happened here, and her eyes settles on Cleo, the Seer. The corners of her mouth turn down slightly as she sees the state the woman is in. Vartan moves forward to comfort her and Aeliana listens as the woman speaks.
“And… and you…” Cleo crosses to Aeliana and cups Aeliana’s hands in her own. “The Seer, the Scribe, and the Scholar… Welcome, Scholar. Shall you be as the book suggests? Will you be so learned in the ways of immortals and men alike that you shall teach the Dying Ones how to slay the Immortalis? Will it turn the tide in our favor? Or will the Dying Ones betray us? The Seer, the Scribe, and the Scholar. The Seer, the Scribe, and the Scholar. The third of the Archmage Trinity will arrive in Avalon, and together they will change the tide of the battle. The Seer, the Scribe, and the Scholar.”
Aeliana was a bit unnerved, though her face did not show it, looking at the milky whiteness of the Seer's eyes. Her research suggested that those who are gifted with the second have this happen to their eyes when they give prophesy, but she had never seen it before. She squeezes Cleo's hands back, and makes a mental note of every word she is speaking. This might be very important. And Her, The Scholar? One of the Archmage trinity? She had never expected something like this.
She continued to listen and make note of Cleo's words as she moved on. As Cleo's eyes refocused, she spoke as she formed a glowing mass of energy to form a portal.
“Oh… Hello. I take it you must return to Avalon. Let me open the gates for you.”
She smiled to Cleo as she passed and spoke
"I would talk with you again soon, Seer" She said in a calm, confidence voice, nodding before she entered the portal with Vartan's assistance. Though he helped her once again, she already began to feel more accustomed to this mode of travel. Her mind wandered to the state of Cleo's house, but the woman herself had not seemed particularly alarmed.
Before her, as she stepped from the portal, were the fabled gates of Avalon.
-
Sig is about to protest that yes, the matter is very much up for debate. But then Blood renders all possible debates moot by producing an Arkenstone from the downed construct.
Feelings of horror give way to a righteous fury. Sig's hands tremble as he takes the coveted artifact from Blood. The warmth of the All-father's light flows through him as he gazes into the glowing stone.
"Someone's gonna have to answer for this. The All-father will not stand for it."
Sig bristles a bit at being instructed to take the Arkenstone to Fury. By all rights, it should be taken directly back to the Halls under the MMountain and the safety of his people. But then again, if it was safe there, how did ot come to be found here in the first place? Who could possibly be responsible for this treachery? Sig can already hear angry voices in his head demanding answers. It will be difficult for any sort of relationship between the Ageless and the Chosen to continue if this crime goes unpunished. But for now, what place could possibly be safe?
Sig's maddening thoughts are interrupted by Blood's hand on his shoulder. Her words calm his thoughts. She is right, of course. Allowing the General to handle this will go a long way towards salvaging an otherwise tense diplomatic situation. Blood's personal assurance that the General is up for the task seals the deal. Sig will take the stone directly to the General and hopefully gain her assistance in uncovering the root of this betrayal.
Sig's thoughts turn away from the Arkenstone as Blood kisses his forehead. He grins at her parting directive.
"Take care, lass. Make it back to Avalon in one piece. Don't make me have to come find you."
Sig cradles the Arkenstone close to him as they step through the portal. Upon their arrival, Sig cocks an eyebrow at the state of the place, and of the Seer.
"It looks like my brothers went on a 12 day bender in this place and invited her along for the ride."
All humor fades from Sig as Cleo speaks to him. He narrows his eyes and hugs the Arkenstone closer to him. How could she possibly know all of this? Her mention of Alvis and his righteous fury at the situation sends him deep into contemplation again. He barely notices when the Seer returns to normal, and does not speak again as the group heads towards the gates.
-
There is much to contemplate. As the group gathers, Fjorin overhears Captain Blood's warnings of an unspeakably dangerous horror that lurks in the Marrow. Shortly after, he sees the normally jovial Sig brimming with rage as he scans the stone placed in his hands. And now, Fjorin wondered if the witch that stopped him dead in his tracks before he could even twist his blade... would she return to the Marrow to face them once more? Would she bring others?
It was time to sort his thoughts.
"As we travel, let us share what we have learned here. We will need it, should the Forsaken return to face us in the Marrow."
-
Siron observes as Blood uses an ancient language to invoke a portal for them to return to Avalon.
“Siron, hold fast to Cyan,”
The knight nods and spreads his arms, letting the cat-pauh jump in. “No harm will come to him,” his voice is lower and quieter, lacking its usual eagerness and energy. His face, usually a clear representation of what he was feeling, was now void of emotion. There was something he needed to do in Avalon, so he did not voice any objections to the captain’s orders.
“Seriously, don’t let go of me. I don’t want to be ripped apart by the portal. It wouldn’t be a good look for me,”
“You wouldn't know until you try it...” he quickly moves into the portal, not giving Cyan any time to respond. The knight has went through portals a few times already so it isn’t as bad as the first time and he quickly goes through and emerges on the other side.
Siron is taken aback from the sight that meets him. The place looked like a storm tore through it. In the midst of that mess of a cabin sat the seer. He puts Cyan down and gestures for the rest of the party to stay where they are. During his first visit here, this woman displayed a frightening level of power and in her current state... he was afraid she might be a bit dangerous. Approaching her slowly he only mange’s to take a few steps before the seer starts speaking.
“You’re here for the gates,”...I promise to send you relief as soon as we return to Avalon.”
Vartan steps forward and tries to comfort the obviously distressed seer, but instead his actions make her speak ominously about things of the past, present and the future.
She starts with Vartan but then moves on to the knight.
Her words, though true, sting deeply. He knows the cause of this is Fenwicks disappearance, but still something inside him boils. Despite that he keeps his calm and does not do anything foolish. The truth of the matter was that all she said was painfully true. Honor's blood was on his hands, his foolish actions had lead to the lieutenant’s demise.
The seer's madness seems to disappear as unexpectedly as it appeared. When her eyes return to normal she seems to be the rational person who zapped and killed Siron to check if he is immortal. Soon she opens the portal and the party reaches Avalon's gates in one peace, including Cyan who hitches another ride on the knight.
As soon as they go through the young man leaves the cat-pauh and approaches the keeper. “Greetings. I am Siron and we are a small part of the force sent to the marrows, we have returned and bring with us Miss Aelina and the Crimson Wolfs.” The knight moves close enough for only the two of them to hear their conversation and explain the situation with the seer.
-
@The Marrow Party:
Blood nods in agreement of Fjorin’s statement. “That may be wise.”
The group listens intently as the Ebonmane warrior shares what he has learned.
"Catujel is a twit. He's just a child playing grown-up. Thinks he knows everything, well it's sure to bite him in the ass, and when it does.... haha! I'll be there to laugh in his prettyboy face!" states Coward.
Punisher wears an impatient look upon his face. It is evident he is in a hurry to get moving. “So what now?” asks Punisher, his eyes locked firmly upon Blood.
The Captain is silent. It is apparent that, despite his good deeds, Blood is still wary of the recently reprieved Forsaken.
“We continue in our mission,” comes Dennan’s rumbling reply.
“And what, praytell, would that be exactly?” inquires Coward.
Blood’s stubbornly crosses her arms over her chest. “That… is none of your damn business.” It seems, despite her agreeing with Fjorin, Blood is not very willing to share information.
Coward throws his hands up in exasperation, and as an immediate reaction to this sudden movement, Blood’s hand is upon her sword in the blink of an eye.
“Hey! Whoa! Calm down! Sheesh! How are we to have any kind of working relationship when you’re ready to run me through in response to every move I make?” reasons Coward. “I am merely frustrated because if Punisher and I are to be tromping about through the Marrow, it would make sense to know why.”
“Captain…” Dennan gives Blood a meaningful look.
Blood sighs and explains the goal of the mission to the Marrow. However, the Immortalis in the party note that she specifically avoids any mention of who holds the artifact that will release the wards which confine the souls of the Marrow. You get the sense that any powerful artifact could be corrupted in the hands of a Forsaken, and while Blood is allowing your new companions some information, she isn’t about to let her guard down yet.
Behind you, the entirety of the Forsaken’s base of operations is little more than a smoldering pile of ash. Evening approaches and you are left with the difficult question of whether to venture on, or stay within the wards.
“Well, on one hand, this is really the safest place to be. The wards will keep any creatures of the Marrow at bay,” offers Lai. “However, who is to say Fortuna won’t come back with more Forsaken.”
“She won’t,” responds Punisher quietly. “Fortuna is calculating, and as much as she will want revenge, she won’t dare to cross Captain Blood again. With the beating we gave Fortuna today, she will need time to regroup, but when she does, I guarantee she will be back with a vengeance.”
Coward snorts. “Lord Victor is probably fit to be tied; he must be furious his toys are broken.”
Sembas raises an eyebrow. “Lord Victor?”
“Ah… Right… You lot know him as Severan Deceit. But to the Forsaken, he is Severan Victor on account of the fact that he defeated the Archon,” explains Coward.
Dennan’s face reddens and he begins to take a step forward, but Blood places a hand upon his chest. Dennan’s eyes are wild with anger and his chest heaves.
“He DID NOT defeat the Archon!” roars Dennan.
Coward shifts uncomfortably, his gaze downcast. “Sorry, sorry. Perhaps defeat was the wrong word to use.”
“Look. It’s been a long day, and we’re all rather tightly wound,” speaks Lai quietly.
After careful consideration, it is decided the party will remain within the wards. Blood searches some storage buildings within the perimeter of the wards. She finds many basic supplies, but thankfully, there do not appear to be any more constructs. Unfortunately, her search did yield a few surprises.
Blood’s face is grim as she returns to the rest of the party, in her hand, she holds what appears to be a heavy, burlap sack. Punisher’s eyes flash in recognition at what he knows to be the contents, and Coward makes it a point to stare into the distance to avoid any eye contact with the Captain. All who have come to know Blood are aware that a yelling, screaming, swearing Captain Blood is dangerous, indeed, but a silent one is far worse to fear, and Blood speaks not a single word as she joins the rest of you near the fire. As Blood gently places the bag upon the ground, the contents shift and its sounds like thousands of pieces of shattered glass.
“What… what is that?” asks Lai.
Blood stares at the two former Forsaken, her eyes betraying the fact she is barely managing to maintain control of her anger. She speaks slowly and deliberately as she utters a single word. “Arkenstones.”
She opens the top of the bag so that the rest of you may see within. “We can’t leave these here. Sig’s people will want them back.”
“We can’t carry them with us, either,” says Lai.
Dennan nods. “True. We’ll store them in the tunnels for now. We’ll be sure to come back for them.”
Dennan’s impressive command of earth allow him to descend into the tunnels, and using the same earthen platform, he again brings himself to the surface.
“There. They should be fine for now. I took pains to obscure them, just in case.”
As the night continues on, you are all thankful to be within the invisible embrace of the wards. Outside, there are bloodcurdling screams and deafening noises emitted from creatures who hide in the shadows. A few times, you see large, ominous shapes pass at the far edge of your camp, but take comfort in the fact they are unable to gain entry.
“Leeches,” says Coward, noting Lai’s fearful expression. “Big ones. They can suck every drop of blood out of a full grown man in seconds. See that shape over there? Blood wolves. Pretty sure I heard a banshee to the east. Now banshees… those are the things you need to stay clear of more than anything. They are spirits that could not be contained in the Marrow. They are beings so twisted, and so far removed from the humanity they once possessed that no magic can affect them.”
“What… what… can they do to a person?” stammers Lai, her voice shaking.
Coward smirks. “Pray you don’t get close enough to find out.”
At first light, the party prepares to move out.
“Remember what I said, Sembas… He’s your responsibility.” Blood gestures to Coward.
Coward smiles and waves at Sembas. “Hello, best friend. Seems we are just going to be absolutely inseparable.”
“Inseparable. More like you’re insufferable,” mutters Sembas. “Why did I tell Blood to spare you again?”
Coward grins. “Ah… the kitten has teeth after all.”
Though nothing can make its way in, leaving the wards is exceedingly simple. Other than a strange sensation that causes your flesh to erupt in goosebumps, there is no effect from departing through the wards.
“Huh… What would have happened if we had tried to go in this way?” asks Lai.
Blood frowns and picks up a stick from the ground. To illustrate the answer to Lai’s question, she tosses it towards the invisible barrier. There is an earsplitting crack as electricity erupts through the stick, catching it on fire, and violently expelling it into the air. You gaze upward, but after several hundred yards, the stick disappears into the trees, never to be seen again.
“Fjorin.” Blood beckons for the Ebonmane warrior. She leans her lips close to his ear. “Dennan will remain at the front with me. I am trusting you to serve as our rear guard. Be sure to keep an eye on the Forsaken. Despite Lady Aeliana’s vouching for Punisher, we still can’t completely trust him, and as for Coward…” Blood shakes her head. “I’d sooner trust an asp to watch over a sleeping baby than I would trust Coward to keep his word.”
-
Fjorin nods in acknowledgement to Captain Blood's request, and fixes his eyes on the newcomers. He responds with a low rumble, "Let them give me but one excuse, Captain."
The Ebonmane warrior was true to his task, and watched the newcomers carefully. Luckily, he had rested well in Avalon, and his new-found immortality asked little of him in the way of rest.
As time moved on, his mind continuously replayed the battle in his head. "So... that was Ravana." he thought. The last time Fjorin had been so helpless in battle was against the Thunder Caller when lightning rendered his limbs useless. If Catujel was not the vengeful sort, the last of the Ebonmane would likely have fallen.
Suddenly, another image flashed in his head: the wrath of Bayard Cael. Too swift, too clever, and too powerful for even the strongest of the Ageless to defend their ally from a single, precise stroke. A battle against Bayard Cael now would be no battle. It would be a slaughter. And yet...
"You are far stronger than you know... you will be the one to restore the balance." Lai's words from Avalon seemed to lay a mountain before him - it was of such size that it gave even the Ebonmane warrior pause. And once he reaches the peak, what then?
Fjorin grit his teeth, breathed in, and let out a sigh as he let go of the thought. No man leaps to the top of any mountain, and he was no different. He would climb it one stone at a time... and the Marrow would be the first.
-
@The Avalon Party:
Aghast at the bedraggled state of Aeliana, Keeper is quick to hurry you all into the main gates of Avalon. As you approach the plaza you see several people have gathered to meet you. General Fury stands at the edge of the fountain. Her features are grim and taut, and her arms are crossed over her chest. Next to her, seated on the edge of the elaborate fountain is Muse, her face buried in her hands. Her bright, red hair falls over her hands, obscuring her face from view, but her shoulders shake and her form trembles. Corvus Virtue has an arm wrapped around her as she leans against him. He whispers softly into her ear, attempting to comfort her, but to no avail. It is obvious Muse is consumed by grief, and it can be readily assumed that news of Honor’s death has already reached Avalon.
For Aeliana, every inch of Avalon is a sight to behold, but the plaza is absolutely exquisite. Here, many of Avalon's roads come together. The plaza is dominated by a graceful fountain, and water gushes out of the highest pool near the northern end of the plaza. From there the water flows and spills into lower and progressively wider pools. The lowest and widest pool dominates the plaza with less than half a foot of water. Stones are placed at even intervals and in different pathways providing walking access across the pool. Aeliana fights the urge to leap into the water and cleanse the blood, dirt, and sweat from her form.
Fury’s eyes fall upon Aeliana and she beckons for Vartan. She embraces the grizzled warrior and he grins widely. She places a kiss upon his forehead, much like a doting aunt might do so for a beloved nephew.
“I am glad to see you well, Vartan.” She glances towards the other Crimson Wolves and offers a nod of acknowledgment. “Get Aeliana to Hestia. It appears Askall might benefit from her wisdom as well.”
As Sig approaches, Fury’s body tenses and her gaze locks on the large, glowing, red stone in the hands of the Chosen of Alviss. Her eyes widen slightly, registering her shock.
While Sig and Siron are left to speak with Fury and Muse, respectively, Aeliana is ushered off by Vartan towards a massive home that appears to have been fashioned from pure ivory. There are fine gold engravings along the walkways that depict all manner of flora. Flanking this walkway are plants and flowers of varying shapes and sizes. There are several tall trees, vibrantly colored flowers, some of which you’ve never seen before, and all manner of shrubberies, grasses and growths. Despite the variegated, motley arrangement before you, there is a certain sense of order to this place. There is not a root, pebble or petal out of place and this tidiness gives the area an unsurpassed sense of beauty.
An older woman awaits in the doorway, as if she had been expecting all of you. Her spider’s silk, gray hair is tied into a neat ponytail and her violet eyes radiate kindness and generosity. Her voice is soothing as she calls out to you all.
“Come, come! Come in at once. Let me have a look at you dear.” Hestia takes Aeliana’s other arm in hers, and she and Vartan lead the young woman to a comfortable-looking room to the left of the entrance.
Aeliana is seated upon the softest bed she has ever had the luxury of reclining in. It feels as if it was created of the clouds themselves. After a quick examination, Aeliana is taken into an adjoining room. As she enters, her eyes widen at the enormous bath that has been drawn for her. To call it a bath is an understatement as it is nearly a pool. Vartan, ever the gentleman averts his eyes as Hestia aids Aeliana in disrobing. As soon as her body touches the cool, crystalline waters of the pool, she feels any residual pain from her torturous experience flow out of her body. Hestia calls out to Vartan to hand her several items, and the old woman helps Aeliana to wash her hair and her body. When it is time to dry off, Aeliana is reluctant to leave the pool.
Aeliana is taken back to the examination room where Hestia further tends to her wounds. With all the dirt and grime gone, Aeliana is taken aback at the site of her battered body in the full length mirror nearby. There are enormous, blackened bruises, cuts and wounds that were far too long neglected and appear to have been affected by infection, and several other areas that likely needed stitches over a week ago. Hestia has Aeliana recline on the bed again and she sets to work with her plethora of salves, ointments, and bandages. Hestia is particularly careful around Aeliana’s wrists.
After some time, Hestia smiles broadly. “There you go, dearie. Good as new.”
Aeliana looks again in the mirror and finds that her marred body truly does look almost new! There is not a single trace of bruises nor wounds, safe for the marks upon her wrists, which Hestia regrettably explains will never go away.
“Hmm… Let me see what we can do about that.” Hestia scurries out and returns just as quickly as she left. When she returns, she offers Aeliana two golden bracers, each one set with a large, glittering, green jewel. “Around Avalon, I am sure your wounds will not be a problem, but should you find yourself out and about again, these will do the trick in keeping you safe. They’re not indestructible, mind you, but anyone fool enough to attempt to strike you in your wounds will be violently repelled.”
Hestia takes a satchel out of a drawer and places the bracers and a few vials within. “The potion is for… well… just in case. Given your recent trauma, I do not doubt when you sleep you may be… restless. The contents of the vials will assist you in resting.”
Lene stands in the doorway holding a pile of new garments and a pair of shoes. “Here, miss. It’s the best I could find in such a hurry.”
Aeliana’s eyes feast upon what passes as a meager offering in Avalon. There is a long, flowing green gown made of fine silk and embroidered with gold thread. The shoes were obviously made to match, and despite their delightful appearance, they are as comfortable as if Aeliana was walking about barefoot.
-
@The Marrow Party (a.k.a. Fjorin)
The group of companions and recently reprieved Forsaken trudge back into the Blood Woods. There are several times when Dennan, at the point position, abruptly motions for the party to stop and stand completely still. Even during what passes for day in this place, the creatures of the Marrow are lurking, and at times, you feel their predatory gazes fall upon you in the dim light that penetrates the dark, blackened limbs of the trees that surround you.
“I hate this place,” mutters Lai. “Darastae was no picnic, but this place is beyond comprehension.”
At the mention of Darastae, you see Coward’s head tilt slightly, indicating his attention has been peaked. “Darastae? And when have you, fair lady, been in Darastae. I guarantee I’ve never seen you there. I’d remember a pretty face like yours.”
Lai shudders in disgust. “Oh, you’ve seen me Navar Coward! You’ve-”
Blood glances back at Lai. “You’ve given him enough information, Lai. Best if he doesn’t know who you are.”
Lai nods in agreement.
“Ah, the plot thickens!” exclaims Coward. “A secret identity. I hear the disdain in your voice. Had we a run-in in Darastae? Perhaps of the intimate type? I must admit there’s so many that I often forget the faces of the women I’ve-”
A hand grabs Navar roughly by the shoulder, nearly crippling him under the pressure of its fingers. Coward’s rudeness has not gone unnoticed by Punisher, who despite his previous deeds, seems far more a gentleman than his companion. The intensity of Punisher’s gaze and the force of his grip cause Coward to fight to maintain his footing.
“You will not regard a lady in such a crude manner, Navar, and if your tongue wags so loosely again, I will be more than happy to remove it from your head,” threatens Punishers. You get the feeling that he means it.
“Alright, alright! I was just joking!” Coward raises his hands in protest, or perhaps defensively. While he has immense speed and dexterity, he lacks Punisher’s strength and intimidation.
“Now apologize. And you had better mean it!” growls Punisher.
“I’m-I’m sorry, milady! My sincerest apologies! It won’t happen again!” promises Coward.
Punisher waits for Lai to accept the apology before releasing his grip on Coward, who sneers at Punisher’s back once he turns away.
Meanwhile, there’s a hint of amusement in the corners of Blood’s lips. She gives a nod of approval towards Punisher who follows silently behind her.
At the head of the party, Dennan appears annoyed. “We have to cut through the marshes. There’s no way around it. It goes on for miles.”
“Ugh, the marshes!” complains Coward. “My boots are going to get soaked.”
The marshes are a wholly unpleasant experience. The entire area is waterlogged, at least that is your assumption. It is not until you stand on the banks of the marshes that you realize it isn’t water, but blood that fill these pools. The entire area wreaks of death, and in the shallow waters you wade through, your boot occasionally knocks against a skull or skeletal ribcage from some unlucky traveler who fell victim to the marshes.
You continue on for an hour or so until you see Dennan’s body suddenly tense. He raises a hand to signal for the party to halt.
“Draw your weapons,” whispers Blood urgently.
That’s when you see it. Ahead of the party, in the middle of the path, is a leech of enormous proportions. As it rears back its head to descend upon the party, you hear something close by, something large and slithering. A glance behind you reveals a second leech.
“Blood leeches!” growls Punisher.
“Fjorin!” Lai’s shout alerts your senses and your instincts tell you to glance upward as a third leech begins to drop from a tree, aiming to land heavily upon your body.
-
Fjorin couldn't be certain what transpired between Lai and Coward, but somehow he knew that if Lai or the Forsaken had been allowed to finish speaking, there would be a dead Immortalis in their midst. As he loosened his grip on his sword, and averted his eyes from Coward's death wound, he wondered why his blood boiled as it did. Perhaps the Marrow was running his temper thin, or-
There was little time to ponder, however. Soon after Dennan's signal, creatures the likes of which Fjorin had never seen threaten the party. While one postures nearest Dennan and Captain Blood, another appears near Fjorin. He draws his blade swiftly in order to dispatch this new foe, but...
"Fjorin!"
Lai's shout is enough to tell the warrior that he ought not be where he is, and a strange shadow from above tells him the same. He leaps backward swiftly, hoping to DODGE the above threat, and safeguard Lai's position. Should he be successful, he would unleash a powerful swing in an attempt to cleave the beast in two, taking advantage of its missed opportunity.
The current scenario didn't bode well. The leeches could surprise them from just about any angle, and perhaps only Dennan had the senses to detect them at all. What's more, is they had two Forsaken in their midst. What they needed more than anything right now was awareness... of both friends and foes. Fjorin makes a judgement call, and readies his weapon. "Back to back! Guard eachother's flanks!"
-
Siron walks silently towards Muse. It is clear that news of Honor's death have reached Avalon. It is good that Corvus is with her, he knows what she is going through and can be of help to her. The knight is aware that there is nothing he can say to comfort the woman, he is only hoping that the lieutenant’s gift can give her comfort. As he closes in, he feels guilt and shame from what has happened, the knight’s careless actions led to Honnor's demise, had he not shown weakness and spared his brother, his friend would not have died.
He stops for a few seconds. Now is not the time to be weak again. He violently bites the inside of his cheek, the taste of blood quickly spreads in his mouth and the self inflicted pain helps him focus at the task at hand and forget his own incompetence for the moment.
Reaching them both, Siron first gives Corvus and approving nod, the man's presence and aide are most welcome.
“I am deeply sorry for what has happened... “He grabs firmly the grip of the sword Honor left him, which was strapped to his waist. “I was there until the end. His last thoughts were of you and he wanted you to have this.” He takes out the box and hands it to her.
It is not his place to comfort the woman, nor does he have the right to. Right now The Marrow seemed like a better alternative to being here and feeling guilty.
-
They are quickly herded through the main gate of Avalon, keeper hurrying after seeing the state Aeliana is in. Dried blood caked on her torn dress, bruises and grime covering her, her hair knotted and a mess. While she did not stare like a country bumpkin upon entering avalon, the sight of the city did take her breath away. It was so beautiful here. That instantly made her feel a little guilty inside. The others were going to the marrow and here she was, taken to the most beautiful place she could imagine. Her eyes follow the trail of the fountain, watching the cool water tumble until her gaze crossed Fury.
Fury would see a spark behind Aeliana's eyes. A knowledge, an intelligence and resoluteness that would not befit someone who appeared to be in the state she was. The corners of her mouth quirked into a small smile as Fury embraced vartan. The warrior returned to her, and moved to lead her off. She nodded to Fury before moving with Vartan to visit one person she had always hoped to meet: Hestia Hearth.
As they near what can only be Hestia's home, Aeliana could not help but smile at the beauty of this place. It had a tidy neatness that added something to the Ivory building. She felt a sense of comfort as they approached an older woman and Aeliana meets her violet eyes with emerald of her own.
“Come, come! Come in at once. Let me have a look at you dear.” Hestia speaks, taking her other arm. She is led by both Vartan and Hestia to a room to the left and is seated on the softest bed she has ever felt. She is given a quick examination before being led to yet another room. Aeliana remains silent for now, but her eyes widened at the sight of the bath. She wanted to much to get clean and remove the evidence of her captivity. Vartan politely averts his eyes as Hestia helps her remove her clothing,
She gasped as the pain seems to lift from her battered body upon entering the cooling waters of the pool and hestia helped her clean and remove the knots from her hair. She was reluctant to leave the pool, such was its comfort, but guilt slowly crept up in the back of her mind. Leaving the poolk, she towls off and returns to the room where she had been before.
Seeing the state that her body is in, tears almost leak from the corner of her eyes. Her resolve hardens and a fist clenches as she remembers who was the cause of this. As she stared at herself in the mirror, her eyes narriwed she growled quietly under her breath
"I will kill her" It was almost too quiet to hear. She knew that despite what was done to her, Fortuna had also killed and tortured many others including magnus. She would make sure that Fortuna received her own in kind.
With a deep breath, she laid back on the bed and let Hestia do her work, salves ointments and bandages being used in spades. She notes how careful hestia is around her wrists. Hestia finally smiled at her and spoke
“There you go, dearie. Good as new.”
She was shocked as she looked back into the mirror and gasped loudly at the transfermation she had become. Almost no evidence of her wounds remained save around her wrists. She gently ran the fingers of her left hand, over her right wrist as hestia explained that those would never go away.
“Hmm… Let me see what we can do about that.” Hestia scurries out and returns just as quickly as she left. When she returns, she offers Aeliana two golden bracers, each one set with a large, glittering, green jewel. “Around Avalon, I am sure your wounds will not be a problem, but should you find yourself out and about again, these will do the trick in keeping you safe. They’re not indestructible, mind you, but anyone fool enough to attempt to strike you in your wounds will be violently repelled.”
Hestia retrieve a satchel and placed some vial in it that she explained would help with sleep and the bracers as well. Aeliana looked to Hestia, on the verge of tears. This woman had done so much for her. Again, she thought to herself, she had hardly cried before in all her life now she feels like it could happen at any time. She put her arms around hestia and whispered to her.
"Thank you"
She pulled back with a smile and was surprised to fine Lene offering her new garments and shoes. She offered that this was the best she could find in such a hurry. Upon taking the garments with a thanks, she realized that these garments were made of fine green silk embroidered with golden thread. She pulled on the garments quickly, eager to be back in something, and was astounded at what was considered meager offerings. She turned to hestia then.
"I don't know how I can ever repay you Hestia. I've heard of you, and your miraculous healing talents. I've always wished to meet you, favoring the art myself, but I find myself in your debt. If there is anything I can ever do for you, name it, and I will make it happen" She smiled and gave the woman another hug. Having washed and freshened herself, Aeliana seemed to have much more of a presence than she did when she was in the prison.
-
@The Avalon Party:
Siron
As you mention being there at the end, perhaps it is a catch in your voice or a look of guilt in your expression that suddenly catches her attention. Her eyes narrow and her features harden. “There’s something you’re not telling me, Siron.”
Corvus takes Muse’s hand in his. “I’m sure all Siron has said has been in earnest. Why do you look at him with accusation in your eyes? Do you not think if there was some way Honor could have been spared that Siron and the others would have done so?” speaks Corvus soothingly.
Despite Muse’s cold gaze, after several moments, and Corvus’s urging, she accepts the box from your outstretched hand. She stares at it for some time, her hand moving to the lid to open it, put pausing with much reluctant. She does this many times, unable to bring herself to open it.
“You don’t have to open this right now,” says Corvus. “You can wait.”
“No… If he wanted me to have it, it must have been very important to him,” relents Muse.
Finally, Muse finds the strength to open the box, and her breath catches in her throat, forming as a gasp then evolving into the most gutwrenching wail you’ve ever heard in your life. She falls to her knees in front of the fountain, holding the ring in her hands. The craftsmanship is absolutely exquisite. It is a brilliant gold ring adorned with leaves of green gold. Upon the ring are three gems: a large diamond flanked by two radiant, purple amethysts.
“He- he was going to...” Muse cannot finish her thought aloud.
“It will be alright, my lady.” Corvus kneels beside her and lifts her chin with a touch of his fingers. “He loved you, so very very much, and were he to see you like this, I know his heart would break into a million pieces. You are not wrong to mourn him, but do not let your grief consume you.” Corvus helps her to her feet. Her knees are weak with grief and she leans heavily against him.
“Come, Muse. Let me help you home,” offers Corvus. He gives you a nod of acknowledgment before leading Muse away.
As they depart, you can hear her say in the softest of tones, her voice breaking with emotion, “I would have said yes… I would have said yes.”
Aeliana
“No, no, child. You owe me nothing!” speaks Hestia with a smile. “I thank you for your praise and your interest in my arts. Since you are so keen to learn, I would be more than happy to show you some of what I have attained over the years, but bear in mind, dear child, these arts are not without cost. When you heal someone, you must take the energy, the spirit, from somewhere. Far too often, it is from ourselves. That is why healing Immortalis is far more difficult than healing mortals.”
“Now… Now that your body has been seen to, let’s get to that belly. I can hear it rumbling a mile away. I’ll be back in a moment.” Hestia scurries off and once you dress you find yourself rejoined by Vartan.
His eyes widen noticeably as he takes in your transformation. “I knew she could work miracles, but you looked as if you had been dragged through a moat! And now…” Vartan is rendered momentarily speechless as he takes in your long, red hair and the renewed spark in your green eyes. “Well… if I may say so, you look absolutely lovely, milady.”
“Ah! Vartan! Give an old woman a hand!” calls Hestia.
Vartan peeks his head out the door. “My, my. You’re in for a treat! Come on, Aeliana.” He gestures for you to follow him and he leads you into an exquisite dining room with a long, oak table adorned with a beautifully made, ivory table runner, inlaid with gold leaves, trees, and flowers.
Vartan moves to assist Hestia in unloading her arms. For such an elderly looking woman, she must be awfully strong to have carried all the items, then you must remind yourself, that despite her grandmotherly appearance, you are gazing upon a very seasoned veteran of the Ageless ranks.
Vartan assists Hestia in setting the table, then disappears for several moments to gather his companions. When he returns, Lene and Askall are with him, but Ciar is nowhere to be seen.
“Probably at the tavern,” comments Lene with a roll of her eyes.
Askall, too, looks much less worse for wear. His strapping, muscular form moves through the room gracefully and he seats himself at the table across from you. He glances at you with his piercing green eyes as his flowing, black hair falls upon his shoulders in silky waves of ebony. “Milady, you look well.”
Everyone seats themselves and you find Hestia has offered quite the spread! There are warm, buttermilk biscuits, jars of all manner of jams and jellies, likely made from the fruits in Hestia’s own garden. There is a wooden bowl filled with freshly churned butter, frosty mugs of apple cider, heaps of still-sizzling bacon, mouth watering sausages, and huge wedges of cheese. In the center of the table are enormous sweetrolls that smell of cinnamon, cloves, and nutmeg. They are drizzled with ample amounts of vanilla icing and maple syrup.
The Crimson Wolves, who likely hadn’t seen such a spread in a long time, quickly dig into their food with gusto, leaving plenty of opportunity for you to converse with Hestia.
@The Fjorin Party
You manage to successfully DODGE out of the path of the airborne leech, and unleash a mighty swing upon the creature. Your sword slices into the flesh of the leech and your promptly hear a strange, sizzling sound emanating from the wound. You see that the edges of your blade have a thick, green, corrosive acid that threatens the integrity of your weapon. Yet, this is not a mortal blade; this is forged by the smiths of the Ageless, and despite the best efforts of the leech’s acid, you pull the untarnished blade free.
Upon your rallying cry, you find yourself back to back with Punisher who has his ebony greataxe drawn. His gaze falls upon the other leech that approached from the rear of the party. He unleashes a fury of quick attacks, successfully managing to tear off a chunk of the leech’s abdomen with the bite of his blade.
Dennan and Blood have closed with the leech at the front of the party. Blood’s broadsword glints as she brings it down upon her foe while Dennan drives his silver greataxe into its back.
Two more leeches appear quite suddenly, emerging from the gurgling depths of the swamp. There is one to either side of Lai. You hear her mutter something under her breath and a wall of dirt and rock rises from the ground to either side of her, shielding her from their advance.
Coward had been previously disarmed of all his weapons, as he was not able to be trusted not to stab someone in the back. His eyes widen at the advance of another leech, and for a moment, he appears as if he may flee the party in fear. Instead, two enormous falcons sweep into action, both colliding into the leech with enough force to knock it to its side. One of the falcons is mounted by a cheering Chico, whose mousy hands cling to its feathers so he will not fall off.
Sembas and Anlaf must have just returned from scouting ahead and were quick to fly into action. It takes Sembas a few moments to shift back into his human form, but when he does, his hands immediately grasp his spear, and he plunges it into the side of the fallen leech. Yet, the leech is not willing to relinquish its hold on life. It curls forward, attempting to lock its mouth upon Sembas’s arm. These are certainly not average leeches. In addition to their enormous size, corrosive blood, and power to drain people of their lifeblood, they also have rows upon rows of jagged teeth. It is these teeth the creature is poised to bite into the falconer’s flesh with.
-
As Hestia spoke about energies and the strength for healing, Aeliana spoke.
"I had thought that my healing magic could cure most things, Until I tried to heal an Ageless. Something I have been working on is that my created spell tends to draw its energy from the wounded. They are often left tired and hungry. At worst they would require bedrest for some time, though I suspect that that is better than death" She frowns for am moment, thinking about how her spell had failed. "I am just having trouble pinpointing where the failing was when trying to cure ageless. I must admit, I've only tried once, so with more time I may be able to work it out, but it is good to be in such capable hands." She smiled at Hestia then.
Hestia moved off to fix them something to eat while she was rejoined by vartan. She caught his eyes widening at the sight of her, she must have been really worse off then she realized.
“Well… if I may say so, you look absolutely lovely, milady.” The comment caught her slightly off guard, but then she smiled.
"Well thank you Vartan"Before he had a chance to respond though, vartan was called away by Hestia. After a moment Vartan pops back out and motions for Aeliana to follow him. She lets herself be led by the warrior and she is led into a very nice dining room. She smiled as she looked about, taking in the beauty of the place.
As the others appear, she notes that Askall in particular looks much less worse for wear. She nods to him from her seat across the table,
"Thank you Askall, you look well yourself"
The spread that Hestia lays before them looks amazing, though to be honest she would have eaten anything considering how little she had eaten in the past two weeks. Her stomach gives an embarassing growl at the smell of the food. Seeing the others dig in, she would help herself to a biscuit, some butter, apple cider and cheese. She was both happy that she was not dead and enjoying this food with fine company, though she was also sad that agnus could not join them, or the others who were off in the marrow. This weight heavy on her mind. She tried to move her thoughts to her recovery then and after a moment and a few bites, she spoke, asking curiously.
"Do you have any ideas as to why my spell might be failing?"
-
“There’s something you’re not telling me, Siron.”
Siron is standing in front of Muse. Eyes wide open, mouth tightly shut, just standing there and looking at her requires a tremendous effort. He had so much more to say, forgiveness to ask for, apologies to make, but now there was no the right time for this. The knight will have to face the consequences of his actions when everyone is safely in Avalon and there is no immediate need of him. Then he would seek her out and tell her, tell her all of it!
With a heavy heart he watches her reaction to her gift. This is it, this is what his careless actions have led to. Siron wants to avert his gaze badly, yet he knows he must not. He continues watching until Corvus and Muse are well out of sight. Letting Catujel go in those dim lit corridors was something Siron would not forgive himself for the rest of his life. His action has lead to the death of a great man and no amount of time would suffice for him to atone or forget. Now, however, was the time he headed head first into his next task and put his worries aside?
The knight takes a look around to locate Cyan and approaches him.
“Ahm... Cyan, can I ask you to take me to Dethys' tower? I am fairly knew to Avalon and not so well acquainted with the layout of the city, If it is not too much trouble for you of course.”
-
Sig responds to Fury's look of surprise with a grim look of his own. He waits until the others depart before speaking. His words are slow and deliberate, well measured and calm, but barely concealing his anger beneath them.
"General Fury... I have come here on good faith, representing my people, the Chosen of Alviss. I agree with our need to work together. I feel there is much we can learn from each other and much benefit to be gained from our collaboration. I have treated your people with kindness, and I have been treated kindly in return."
Sig flushes slightly as he thinks of Blood.
"I have been treated VERY kindly in return."
Sig has been looking at the floor all this time. Now he brings his eyes up to meet Fury's. Anger, pride, and defiance flash in his stern gaze. He grips the Arkenstone with one large hand and extends it towards her.
"But now I need an answer for THIS. Because it is only the kindness that I have been shown since my arrival that prevents me from returning to my Mountain with this straight away and order our gates sealed shut against your kind for a stone's eternity."
Sig's tone takes on a booming quality as he continues. The All-Father's presence fills the room and Sig almost appears to grow taller and stronger (CHARISMA: Intimidation). Gone is the care-free, laid back dwarven bard. In his place stands the earthly representation of Alviss himself.
"I, Sigurd Glorrack, Emissary of the Chosen of Alviss, the Lord Under the Mountain, Great Protector and All-Father, request an immediate investigation into this issue. On behalf of my people, we demand to know how the very hearts of our people have fallen into the hands of your Forsaken. And I speak for the All-Father himself when I request... nay, DEMAND to know what you intend to do about it."
-
With a brief assessment of his allies' dire situations, Fjorin slams his blade into the earth beneath the blood with such force the crimson pools cover him from head to toe. "I will not underestimate you again, Gift of the Bloodwarden... crush them!" Sending his will through the blade as he did against Catujel's traps, he attempted to bring Lai's walls down on the creatures that threatened her.
Withdrawing his blade from the earth, he looks to Punisher. Fjorin nods in acknowledgement of Punisher's assistance, and motions toward Sembas and Coward. Without a word, he trudges toward Lai in order to finish the worms should the boulders have failed. These beasts are clearly not slain easily - it was clear each group would need a powerful blade to accompany it. Should the beasts be vanquished, Fjorin would position himself behind Lai and ensure she is not caught unaware by the encroaching predators.