From Atop The Ashes (Riknas and saro007)

From Atop The Ashes

An aged man muttered to himself. He had a thick, black beard with peppers of gray in it; his face was wrinkled and spotted with birth marks that did nothing to improve his appearance, and his nose was steep like a cliff. He was far from being withered and old, but just the same, he was far from being young and energetic. His eyes and hair were hidden under the hood of a thick brown cloak like they always were. "People. Lots of people in this city. Dozens, maybe hundreds. Mindlessly scurrying about like ants..." he said from the shadows of an alley way.

Of course there were lots of people. That's why it was a city. Cities tended to have a large number of people, else people would just call it a town, or a village. Clarifying a city had a lot of people was like mentioning you found a barber that happened to cut hair. However, Kentic had no intention of saying that to the man, else he wanted a good slap to the face. Frankly, Kentic was not in the mood for a stinging sensation on either of his cheeks. Instead he listened quietly as the old man rambled on...again.

"Remember this Kentic. Peace is a lie. It is transitory, just waiting for Chaos to take hold once more. These people...these 'peaceful' people," he said, practically spitting with the word "peace", "these people are living lies. And tonight we shall break this facade of theirs. Yes, we shall remove from the wool of their eyes, and awaken them with the blade of truth. It is a jagged blade, yes, one with many bends, and it shall awaken the people with...Kentic, are you paying attention?"

"Yes, of course. We shall awaken them with the jagged blade of truth," Kentic said in a dull whisper.

"Ah, very good...yes, now then, as I was saying..."

Kentic wasn't really paying much attention at all. It's just that the old man said his speeches so many times he had memorized all the important parts, and it was pretty to guess which rant he was on just by hearing the beginning, so he could tune out as much as he wanted after that. Sometimes he would play cards by himself, while other times he would merely watch the people around him pass by. This time he merely looked at his dim reflection in a tiny puddle nearby. His skin was pale and smooth, contrary to the aged man, and he had no hair on his face to speak of; nor did the aged man have the crimson eyes he had, all they had in common was their black hair, and the brown cloaks they wore.

'That...and a mission,' he thought to himself.

Flicking his wrist, a small ember appeared in the palm of his hand. Eyes trained on the flame, he watched it grow ever so slightly, larger and larger. Though Kentic did not particularly like the old man, he did enjoy the benefits of working with him... When the aged man nudged him again, he quickly closed his palm, extinguishing the tiny flame.

"Are you ready?" The aged man asked, apparently done with his speech.

"Why," Kentic began, as a smile crept across his face, "I thought you'd never ask."

A lone figure stood on the roof ledge, breathing in the mix of rain and pollution that clung in the air. Dark clouds covered the once-cleared skies. The only lights that touched the figure were too far to illuminate her. This was how she liked it - hidden away from the bright bustling streets. The streets was always someone on the streets, going to work, home, school, or a million other places that they 'had' to be. None of that mattered to Stella. She had very different agenda than all of those mindless creatures.

Tonight, I am going to get lucky, she thought to herself, as she did every night. Of course, she never did. In a city like this, nothing exciting ever happened. Still, Stella hoped that one day, something would happen, and that she would be able to witness it. It didn't matter what happened, it just had to be something that wasn't...normal.

Stella took in another deep breath, soaking in the chill in the air, before she stepped off the ledge. Stella walked to the other side of the roof, then turned back, facing the ledge she had just been standing on. She tapped her right boot against the slick, but firm rooftop. She breathed out calmly, then ran across the roof. Just before she reached the ledge, she leaped onto the adjacent roof.

"Aw shi-", Stella began to say as her foot slipped on the wet surface. Falling backwards, Stella desperately tried to grab onto the wall, but her fingers grasped only air.

"Tsk. Dammit," Stella cursed as she reached for her boot knives. Barely a few feet above the ground, she managed to stab her knives into the wall, and stop her fall. For a moment, she just stood there, hands clutch tightly on her knives. Then she collapsed on the ground, breathing shakily.

"Holy shit," Stella exhaled. Steadying her breath, Stella laugh to herself. What a great start to the night.

"Ask I did, boy, do you remember the plan?" The aged man said, peering down on Kentic.

"Yes, Father," Kentic said wearily.

The man scoffed, "Gods be damned, stop calling me that! If you were actually my son, I would have been torn by the desire to throw you off a tower or jump off one myself."

Kentic rolled his eyes, it was all he could do to stop from smirking. Indeed, he had similar thoughts about the possibility of the man being his real father. Of course, I would push you off the tower every time, old man... Even so, that didn't change the fact he saw the aged man as his father, and none of his pestering would convince Kentic to call him anything beside that.

His father continued with an exaggerated sigh, "Regardless, show me you remember." Saying that, he produced a metal rod from inside his cloak and held it out to Kentic expectantly. The rod was plain

Kentic gave a sigh of his own and took the rod in hand, briefly looking it over. The rod was steel, perfectly straight, and ran the length from his elbow to his hand; it was completely ordinary, with the exception of the two runic markings on either end of it. "Very well..." he started, "First, I'm going to-"

"Aw shi-"

Kentic stopped when he heard a voice that was neither his nor his father's, and looked up.

"Is that..." the aged man muttered in mild astonishment.

Kentic could scarcely believe his eyes, as he saw what appeared to be a person falling from the sky above them. For a moment he stared, dumbstruck by the sight of what could only be a falling lunatic, or a drunkard after four too many. It was just as the person somehow latched their feet into the walls that he had regained his senses and decided to bolt off.

"Run!" he hissed to the aged man, before dashing out of the alley and into the streets. He quickly turned his head to see his father rushing out as well with heavy steps. He could hear the man call out to him, but the sounds of a horse and carriage drowned out the sound. Though he was slightly curious about what his father had said (and the person from the sky), part of him knew that they could not afford to let anyone hear them, and another part of him sorely wanted to get started already.

'It'll be fine. The old man knows what he's doing, and so do I,' he thought to himself reassuringly, clenching the rod in his hand as he maneuvered around the cart and continued down the busy city streets. 'After all, this is the moment I've been waiting for...'

The sound of running feet caused Stella to sharply look down the alleyway. Two figures. Brown cloaks. One of them, the thinner one, was holding a...rod? Ah, whatever. With a shake of her head, Stella stood up. Though the night was still young, the fall was enough for the night. For the next few minutes, Stella struggled to take her knives out of the wall.

At last, she managed to free her knives from the wall. Someone was going to be unhappy with the 5-inch gorges she had made, but she didn't care. It would make that person's life a little bit more colorful, something everyone in this god-forsaken city needed. Stella wiped her blades on her coat before putting them back in her boots. She made sure they were secure before pulling her pant cuffs over them. Walking on the streets with knives showing was a bad idea, something she had learned a few years back. Not fun.

Stella flipped up the collar to her coat, stuffed her hands in her pocket, and walked out onto the street. She kept her head down as she walked through the crowd of people, and horses and carriages moving quickly by. The bright lights illuminated her short silver hair. Normally, she would wear a hat to hide her hair, but running on the rooftops meant that the hat would fly off. Stella received several puzzled glances, but luckily, most people walked by, too "busy" with their fake lives.

Stella rounded the corner and into a dimly lit bar. A few regulars sat in the booths lining the left wall. The Master was standing behind the bar, wiping a glass. He looked up as Stella walked in, and his face lit up.

"Mira! The usual?", he asked her, who flashed him a smile, and a nod. She sat down at the back end of the bar. From there, she could watch everyone else in the bar, as well as whoever came in and out. As she took off her coat, the Master set down a glass of Moonshine. He took a quick look around the bar before leaning in to speak with Stella.

"So, how was the run?", he asked in hushed tones. Stella also took a quick look around the bar before leaning to to speak with the Master.

"Not too well. Fell down. No harm done. But I'm done for tonight. That's why I'm here early. Though," she paused, glanced around, and leaned closer to the Master, "in the alley that I feel down to, there were these two guys. They both ran into the streets when I fell. Something's about to happen. I bet my knives on it." She leaned back, took a sip of Moonshine, and smile knowingly at the Master. For a moment, he was at a loss for words. Then straightening up, he started wiping a glass again.

"That's crazy, and you know it. I will take that bet. I bet this bar. In a matter of fact. I'll give you two weeks, before collecting that bet," the Master stated confidently. Stella scoffed in reply.

"Trust me," she said, smiling to herself, "trust me."

Kentic dashed down the road, feet kicking up water with every step, for two minutes straight before quickly sliding into a building; hanging atop of it was a metal sign that said "Canton Blacksmith" swinging gently in the rain. He planted himself against the wall, panting heavily. He gave a deep sigh, trying to fix his breathing.

'What's the big deal?' he chastised himself, 'It was just one person, and likely a drunkard at that. Nothing that could hinder our plans.' As if to solidify his confidence, he slammed his fist into his palm and nodded his head. 'That's right, no one can stop me. He stepped forward and began to survey his surroundings, noting the swords and axes lining the walls, and the suits of armor positioned close to the counter. Along with that, there was also an anvil and a smelter. Everything you would expect from a city blacksmith. But just as he noticed the smelter was still running hot...

"And who are you?" said a voice, deep and gruff. Kentic snapped to attention, looking for the origin of the voice; however the speaker was concealed by the darkness. The young man could only make out a silhouette created by the smelter's dancing flames. A full head taller than him, and with arms nearly the size of Kentic's waist, the outline of the (presumably) man was an intimidating one. Indeed, no sooner than Kentic thought that, the outline reached for something, and illuminated the room.

Apparently he had reached for an oil lantern, and lit it. With that, Kentic noticed that it in fact was an intimidating man standing before him. The man was wearing a mottled gray tunic and hide pants, both of which were covered in soot, likely from his work at the forge. His face was squarish with a chiseled jaw, accompanied by a small bit of light brown stubble on his chin, and his arms were in fact supplemented with rippling muscles. Kentic could tell this was not a man to be trifled with.

"I asked..." the burly man said, placing his arms onto the counter and leaning forward, "Who are you, boy?"

Kentic merely gave a devilish smile, "First, I should ask you, is your name Alaric? And are you the owner of this fine establishment?"

Alaric scowled, and his eyes hardened. "Who are you, and why do you know my name?" His voice held hints of suspicion, and dripped with venom.

"Why, I am a harbinger of Change and an apostle to Chaos, Alaric. Do you understand my meaning?"

The blacksmith's eyes squinted briefly, before snapping open in recognition. "You don't mean...?" the blacksmith asked warily.

"Oh, but I do," Kentic said, holding out the metal rod in his hand, his smile twisting into a grin. "Are you ready for some excitement, Alaric?"

Alaric's face showed a variety of emotions: Awe, relief, frustration, and just a hint of fear. "I never thought this would happen in my life time..." he said.

"Yet here it is, Alaric. You know what you have to do."

This time, Alaric gave a unique expression that Kentic could not entirely describe. If he had to choose a word though, he would say that the blacksmith's face turned 'evil'.

"Oh yes, I know what to do," he said, storming off, deeper into his shop. The sounds of heavy objects being moved and labored breathing could be heard as Kentic waited quietly. Eventually the blacksmith reappeared, with four black barrels with red stripes in front of them.

"Is this it...?" Kentic asked curiously.

Alaric shook his head, "This should be more than enough, I assure you. But no, there's more despite that."

"Then you are an over achiever, blacksmith."

Alaric smiled at that, "Just wait until you see the results." He took one of the barrels and slowly put it down on it's side. "Still," he said, stroking his chin, "It's going to take me some time to get everything set up."

Kentic shook his head, the smile still on his face, "Don't worry...I'll push things along." Lifting the steel rod, he pointed it toward the lantern. "Enoch." He whispered.

Just as the word left his lips, the lantern shattered fantastically and spit flames in every direction. Without a word, the blacksmith dived down to avoid the fire that sailed toward. However, Kentic was not done. He then pointed the rod toward one of the walls. "Ogron." This time, the rod lit up, with a blinding white light forming at it's tip. The light took the form of a small sphere, before progressively growing larger and larger. Once it was the size of Kentic's fist, it took off like an arrow and struck the wall. Splinters and shards of wood went flying, leaving only a gaping hole where the wall once was.

"This," the blacksmith said, pushing himself up, "Will be even greater than I imagined..."

Kentic lifted his eyebrows in amusement, "Certainly. Now let's get started."

The young man took a moment to admire his work, noting how quickly the fire was spreading in the room. Meanwhile, the blacksmith gave a wicked grin and grasped the barrel on it's side. "Indeed, best you get going. I'll take care of the rest..." Kentic nodded, and quickly left through the door.

"Fire, fire!" Kentic heard the blacksmith cry in false terror as he left, "My store is on fire! Fire!" With that, Kentic broke out into another run, and soon after the roar of explosions rang out, with the screams of people following soon after.

'It's finally started...' he thought with satisfaction. Everything was being set into motion, and so far it was all going according to plan. Yet it did not take long for Kentic to feel a pit in his stomach...

'But why do I feel like something is very wrong?'

Boom! The muffed, but loud explosion nearly made Stella drop her glass. The Master dropped the one he was holding. It shattered on the floor, sending a small chill down Stella's spine. The other patrons jumped in their seat, muttering among themselves. Stella winked at the Master.

"Looks like you owe me this bar." Stella said to the Master. He stood there with one hand holding the towel, and the other grasping at thin air. His mouth moved, but no words came out. His dark eyes stared blankly at Stella, then at his hands, then back at Stella. She chuckled, something she hadn't done in a long time. Screams then erupted in the air. Stella drained the rest of her drink. She stood up, and reached for her coat. The other patrons began to quiet down. They started to go back to nursing their glass of alcohol, not wanting to deal with the abnormal.

"It's time for a good Samaritan to help with the hapless people." she said, with a flourish of her coat, as she put it on. The Master shook his head with a sigh. He put down the towel on the bar, and reached for a broom and pan. He still had no idea what to say. Stella watched, amused, as the Master cleaned up the shards of glass. The clink of the glass echoed in the now silent bar. When he finished cleaning, she headed towards the door. Just before reaching the door, she turned around.

"This world always needed a little more color!" Stella smiled, spreading her arms wide, gesturing to the dull interior of the bar. Then, she turned back around and reached for the handle. She could hear the other patrons shifting uncomfortably in their seats.

"Mira!" the Master called out before Stella could open the door. She stopped, and turned back around.

"Yes?" she asked quizzically. The Master hesitated for a moment. He awkwardly shuffled his feet, something that didn't quite match his imposing stature.

"Be careful." he finally said. Stella smiled sadly.

"I'm always careful." she said. Before he could respond, she flung open the door, and ran out. The Master stared longingly at the closed door.

"She's a strong girl." With a start, the Master turned to the patron who spoke. The patron was sitting near the back. Dark shadows covered his bearded face. His bright blue eyes shone, as he watched the Master recollect himself.

"Yes. She is. A very strong girl." The Master finally said. Then, he went back to cleaning the glass, just like normal.

Stella could see the smoke rising from the explosion site. People were heading away from the fire. Scared faces quickly passed by. As she neared the place, she could feel the blazing heat. Dry hot air blew as the fire roared. Stella could make out the stiletto of who appeared to be the owner of the store. She made her way towards him. His burly stature reminded her fondly of the Master, but now was not the time to think about such a thing.

"I think it's best you move away from here," she shouted to him, "it is kind of dangerous."

Alaric ran about frantically, shouting at the top of his lungs, "Fire, fire! Someone, anyone, fire everywhere!" Somewhere down the line, his false terror turned into laughter that bordered on hysterics. He rolled one barrel after another through the hole in his wall and his door, each setting fires ten steps high, and every time one went off he laughed even louder. By then the entire smithy was engulfed in flames, spreading quickly throughout the city block.

"Fire, everything is burning, everything!" he laughed so hard he was crying. Even as he heard another voice, he kept laughing and laughing.

"I think it's best you move away from here," said a female voice, "it is kind of dangerous."

He turned around slowly, a wide grin on his face, tears streaming down his face, his voice half-mad, "Dangerous you say? It most certainly is! Everywhere is dangerous the world is dangerous! And I love all of it!" He raised his hands amidst a sea of flame, moving his arms like he was conducting the fire himself. "And you...I will show you what dangerous really means!" By then, his laughter had gotten so hoarse that it sounded more like he was sobbing.

Standing out in the middle of the city streets, the blacksmith stood by one more barrel. Alaric grit his teeth, the tears dripping from his lips as he sobbed and laughed. "This is the beginning of the end!" that he smashed the barrel down into the ground. The barrel ignited, tossing chunks of the cobblestone street high into the air, while wreathing Alaric in flames.

He flailed and howled like an animal, skin black and charred, rushing toward the girl only to fall short and crumple to the ground, steam coming off his burnt body.

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((This post is a bit rushed; I have a lot more happening with the Old Man, and possibly Kentic, but I'll need to put that in later in my next post. This should be enough for Stella to have something to do.))

The tears of the burly man made Stella cringe, but that was not what scared her the most. The hysteria in his voice, the fuel he was adding to the fire he created, and his strong belief in whatever he believed in. He was the dangerous one. She stood there, watching as the man as he burned. The shock of such a horrid act, left Stella at a lost at what to do. This was truly the start of something big.

The choking fumes of burnt flesh shook Stella out of her reverie. She coughed, and covered her face with her sleeve, as she backed away. The fire raged, consuming everything in its path. The screams of people in the path of the all consuming flames echoed through the streets. The smell of burning...everything filled the air. Though Stella had wanted to be a "good Samaritan", this was something very unexpected. No one was ready for this. No one would have ever expected someone to be so dissatisfied with the norm. Even Stella didn't want such a strong change.

Soon, the sounds of sirens began to fill the air. With each second, it neared the origin of the fire. Stella knew she had to get away. She wanted nothing to do with the police. Stella turned around, flipped up her collar and ran off away from the fire. No one was within sight. In the few minutes she had spent witnessing the burly man's act, everyone had evacuated as far away as they could. The normally crowded streets was deserted, burning brightly from the flames. Ashes floated around like snow, covering burning corpses, fallen on the ground.

After running several blocks, Stella finally saw the figures of people trying to put out the raging blaze with no avail. There was no system that could put out such a fire. She watched helplessly as the city burned. Then, The Master! Without a second thought, she ran towards the bar. In her head, she kept telling herself that everything was okay, but in the back of her head she kept thinking the worst.

After what seems like ages, she finally reached the bar, or what was left of it. The alcohol had fueled the fire, causing the bar to be reduced to a pile of ashes. Nothing remained. In spite of the panic that was slowly sinking in, Stella could help but think to herself: So much for the bet. Then the panic sank in. Looking wildly around, she called out, "Master!" The ashes made their way into her throat, and she spent the next few second coughing. It was useless trying to find anyone. Not knowing what to do anymore, she just ran. Away from the heat, away from the ashes, away from the dancing lights, away from the beginning of the end. She didn't want to deal with anything. The change was too much.

As she near the edge of the still moving flames, she could see a group of people struggling to put out the fire. Stella tried to rush by, but one of the people caught her arm.

"Wait! We need all the help we can get!" spoke the man. Tears stung Stella's eyes as she paused and looked at the man. She was at a loss for words. For a moment, she just stared at the man, not registering anything.

"I...I...How?" she managed to stammer. The man, too, paused for a moment, staring at her. He knew his request would burden her too much.

"Just...find others." he finally said, and released her arm. Stella didn't move for a while, then she slowly continued to walk away.