Myth shrugged, saying, "The fire goes in one direction, then we should go another. Move away from the fire; use it as cover to escape. Night approaches, so we might as well just skirt the edges until the reach the road. Keep it on our left or right, just close enough to see, but as far away as possible, in case of a change in the wind." With that, he hitched his pack higher up on his back, and motioned for Tyrell to lead. He gave him a less enthusiastic, forced smile.

"I've less experience with how fire works, I think. Best if you take the lead, if you don't mind." With the recent events, he had been going in his usual mode, but as the actions and reactions of the day passed, and he was able to stop and think about it, it began to weigh on him. Already, it felt as if he had suffered a crushing defeat; his goal was to find the King of Othea, become a Knight or some other guard-type, some important skilled bladesman, and continue training. To start the first phase of his Blademaster life.

Well, Fate stomped on that pretty well, didn't it?

Shortly after the spell was cast, Alessia was alerted to the presence of another by the sound of approaching armoured footsteps. Her bodyguard immediately leapt up to defend her, but stood down upon recognising the rugged, handsome features of Lord Dorian Sorus-Vecusa. He stood a respectable distance away from the cross-legged Alessia, and addressed her simply by stating her name - just her first name, without any titles or embellishments, as was his right as a fellow noble. She waited a moment, a hint of a smile forming on her soft features before she opened her eyes. Dorian was a tall man, not bulky but not lanky either, and carried himself with the dignity of a born and bred noble, even on the battlefield. At this moment he was accoutred in some of the best armour the Empire could provide, the bronzed, gold edged steel plates lending him an imposing, regal air. She stood and quickly crossed the distance between them, lightly embracing his steel encased form and rising onto the tips of her toes to kiss each handsome cheek once. “How goes the battle?” Not her usual greeting, but then this was not the place for an overabundance of idle banter.

Before becoming an Evoker, Alessia had been considering this man as a potential father for the next in the Rezalla line. not necessarily because she felt strongly for him, though there may have been a certain element of that, but more because he was also from a respected line and had proven himself very much worthy of his position in the Empire. Nobles scions of lengthy lines of nobility were often encouraged to seek out similar peers for the continuation of their lines, in part to ensure a child would be fulfilling the purpose regardless of gender, and in part because of a belief (still not conclusively proven) that such pairings created children more suitable to the life of a noble than others. There were of course rules against lines becoming too intermingled, the results of such a thing were most certainly proven and no noble line wished to see their family tree lack in branches so much that their children became deformed.

Regardless, all plans of pairings or children were set aside when she became an evoker, and it was not worth spending thought on now. They both knew were the other stood.

Alessia could hear a distinct edge of strain in his voice when he answered, no doubt as he resisted the unpleasant effects of her spell. Unfortunately she was unable to spare him from the harshness of it, even if he was strong willed enough to set it aside. “Well enough.” He said. “We have secured the entirety of the outer city, though some stragglers escaped on boats before the docks could be locked down. Some of them were apparently Evokers. Needless to say, I have dispatched my outrider cavalry around the edge of the lake to try and catch up to them, and several men have also pursued them in what boats we could spare from our foes docks.” Alessia nodded at the report. There wasn’t really much she could say on the matter, Dorian not only outranking her but being a superior military tactician as well. “I am sorry you came when the Dread Omen was active… I would’ve understood if you’d stayed with the troops in the outer city, beyond its influence.” She said, genuinely remorseful at subjecting a friend to her powers.

Dorian brushed the comment off and replied with his usual dry wit. “Its more pleasant than Valerians ceaseless complaining about how long, tedious and dark the journey through the tunnel was. Remind me again why he’s a noble?” A hint of a smile curled the edges of Alessia’s mouth as she responded, taking on a mock chiding tone contrasting Dorians sarcasm. “Because he single handedly rejuvenated the economy of three separate ports near the dynasty border in the space of only a few years?” Dorian would not relent though, part of why Alessia was so fond of him. He knew when to do away with the overly nice manners too many nobles used at all times. “How could I forget? He only reminds me of it every few hours.” Alessia’s smile became far more visible as she responded. She could sympathise with the sentiment, but that was no reason to stop needling the poor man. “As I recall you voted for him to be accepted into our ranks.” Dorian put on a regretful smile for just a moment at that remark. “Clearly I was not myself on that day.” Alessia replied with a twinkle in her eye, she had missed their conversations. “Clearly. Why did you come out here anyway? Cant’ve been just for me.”

“This is your first time in battle, and I wanted to check on you.” He said, care evident in his tone. “I appreciate the thought.” Alessia said genuinely. “I would like to say I am fine, but even though I enjoy serving the Empress, may she live forever, I fear I am not cut out for the front lines. I intend to take a position in the governance of our new city, even though it means braving the attentions of our dear Lord Valerian.” She shuddered at the thought, he had been accruing something of a reputation as a less than subtle man with a desire to start a ‘long and glorious noble line’ and unless he suddenly decided to take interest in the natives, she represented one of the only eligible Kalesian noblewomen this side of the mountains.

“The battle should not persist long.” He said by way of reassurance. She could tell from the look he gave that there was more he wanted to say, but now was certainly not the time. Before he could speak again she cut in with a regretful but final tone. “I have kept you from your duties enough already good sir. It is time for you to command your troops once more, and take this city for the Empress, may she live forever.” She turned away with that, making it clear that he shouldn’t tarry any longer. “Of course.” Was his reply, waiting only a moment before turning and leaving himself.

Isaiah Markul

The armored giant looked down from his position on the gate, the occasional arrow clinking off his shoulder as he gazed upon the battle below him, bathed in an unnatural slate light as the sun blazed, an abominable crimson tone. As he felt the fear in his gut, it was clear this was not natural. He was described as unshakeable in his time and they were right; fear was not something he succumbed to easily. As such, it didn't really effect him, but it was there. The defenders however, were VERY affected, and that was what was important.

He thought to earlier, his emergence. Evidently, the stone he was sealed in was used to construct a castle, and when one of the large bricks in the castle exploded a few hours ago, depositing him onto the floor, the guards were more than a little concerned. It's a good thing he was Spiritually bound to the stone, if he was physically inside it he likely would have been chopped up as they carved it, he was bigger than that brick even. Anyway, he was instantly beset by guards, and after a storm of arguing he managed to learn that this castle was under siege. He didn't know where he was, or when he was, but as they didn't kill him on sight he figured that he would help repel the invaders and get this nonsense all sorted out when things were calm. Not that he cared about either side, but it was clear that since he was already in the place it would be far easier to defend than to help conquer the castle and take his chances with the invaders. Especially considering that he didn't feel as strong as I should.

The defenders being as desperate as they were, they allowed him to assist as long as he would submit to interrogation afterwards (even though he planned to interrogate them). So, here he was, The great Lord Isaiah Markul, the mighty Black Knight, helping defend... somewhere. He looked to his left, an archer clutching his bow, shaking. He placed an armored hand on his shoulder, and spoke. "You feel it too? That dread?" He said in his deep baritone. He was intimidating, but his tone didn't convey any menace. "The enemy's trickery is strong. But you aren't just any man, you are a soldier. Are you going to let fear rule you, like some wild animal? Are you going to give up, and allow these invaders to run free in your home?" The archer hesitated for a moment, before a look of determination flashed on his face and he shook his head. The baron lifted his hand, and pointed to the enemy. "Then show them real fear!" He shouted, as he begun to raise his voice so the other defenders could hear him, bashing his shield with his hand for emphasis. "Strike them down! Beat these vermin back to the pits they congealed from! THIS. GATE. WILL. NOT. FALL!!!" With a wave of his hand, a loose brick shot out, knocking a ladder back with immense force.

Markul then caught sight of some odd iron shape being dragged to the gate by some beasts he didn't recognise. As they deposited it, he raised his hand, tossing a boulder down and watching it dent harmlessly off the carapace. It was then he felt the gate... ripple. Vibrations in the ground... He became alarmed (not visibly, thanks helmet) as he had an idea of what was going on. If they didn't deal with it, the gate would in fact fall. He quickly brainstormed a way to take care of it as a devious idea came about. He raised his hand and made a fist, intent on putting his skill to a more creative use. There was likely something in there doing this, and the shell was damn near invincible from the outside, it looked. But, Markul controlled the very ground, ground the shell wouldn't protect from. The cobblestones would be propelled upwards with great force, normally an unfocused attack not worthy of the energy expended to cast it, but with that dome the cobblestones would ricochet with great speed, annihilating anything made of flesh that would be hiding inside. Or at least wounding whatever was in there to uselessness.

Nowhere in the city could Thora find peace. Either there were soldiers, crowds or there were both. It was only when she started wandering inwards, towards the towering inner city, that she found emptiness. And she had to cross over a building to get past the foreign soldiers. It was not that she found that difficult, but it felt odd how they were cordoning off the center of the city.

She had just crossed a couple of rooftops in the eerily empty city sector when the world felt like it was on fire. She found herself unable to see anything. The light was unbearable even when she closed her eyes tightly. Feeling as if she were about to combust, she slowly crawled until she found shelter beneath an overhanging roof. Only then could she calm down enough to think properly, to understand what had happened. In a matter of seconds, the blissful darkness that had covered up the hated sun had been shredded apart. In the new light, she could faintly see flight after flight of arrows passing through the air nearby. some going up to the walls, others down from them. She had gone from the safety of the crowds into a warzone. Out of the ashes, into the fire. “Great. Just great.” she muttered to herself in a rare moment of speech.

Just as the relief had begun to set in, a sense of dread began to build. At the same time, she saw that the arrows going up were no longer merely arrows. Some appeared to be on fire, others appeared to reflect the fire, looking almost metallic. She did not like that one bit. It was not that she cared for the fate of the city, but when things were this strange, it was wise to get away. Fast.

Thora pulled her hood up, covering her head as best as possible. Then she ran, straight for the building whose roof she recently left, preparing to climb straight up with ease. Only just before she did, she spotted what appeared to be some sort of sewer grate. Normally she would avoid such (the reek was generally terrible), but when the choice lay between near blindness combined with the excruciating pain of sunlight and a bit of a stink, it wasn’t hard to choose. She easily lifted the heavy cover on the grate, jumping straight down.

Much to her surprise, the water at the bottom was only knee-deep, and it was remarkably clean. In fact, the whole sewer was much cleaner than she expected. No stink of rot. No thick layers of strange growths. Whomever directed this part of city maintenance, he or she did a good job of it. Of course, only now did Thora realize she had no idea where to go. Choosing a direction on random, she started walking down. Surely there would be some way to get out safely by heading down.

~| Inside a building near the Imperial command center |~

Darko was in the middle of a particularly intense interrogation of one of those foul Knights of Idris when suddenly the door to his current workroom burst open, and a military courier rushed in. With an irritated thought, Darko caused the ribbon of yellow energy connecting his palm to the prisoner’s forehead to disappear. “WHAT NOW!?! I do not like being disturbed in my work!” he shouted, more than a little angry. The courier was taken aback by the response and did not answer, clearly being in shock. “Speak!”, Darko thundered out. That seemed to have the wanted effect, for the Courier started muttering immediately. “R-Re-Representative D-Danica wants you. S-Says she has a j-job for y-you… S-Someone to capture. S-Someone of interest to the E-Empress...” he stuttered out, holding a roll of sealed vellum in his hand. Darko noted that the courier forgot the proper reference to the empress, may she live forever. He did not like that omission.

“How interesting…” Darko said, the gears running in his head. “I will deal with it. You may leave the message on the table and depart.” If someone was of interest to the Empress, may she live forever, then she was of interest to him. Very much of interest. He did not pay attention as the courier departed, instead turning back to his prisoner. “It seems our talks will have to be cut short, my friend. Things to do, you know…” Darko said nonchalantly, then walked up to the prisoner, using the ribbon to make mush out of the prisoner’s brain. It would not, after all, do to have him escape, or worse, get rescued. Fortunately, he knew of none capable of reanimating the dead.

~| At the Docks, around nightfall |~

On some level, Thora could feel the sun sinking beneath the horizon. Even though the light did not change inside the maze of the sewers, she could sense it. The blood she had drunk, the lifeforce, had once more changed her. And she could feel the thirst once more building up strength. It was almost as if the more she drank, the more she thirsted. It was also undeniable that the more the thirst built up, the less control she had over it. Her mind slowly sank towards more primal levels. She needed more. She had to have it. Thus, she subconsciously ventured towards potential exit points. It turned out this happened to be in the middle of the eastern docks of Amaryth.

It was her poor luck, that at that moment a patrol of Kalesian infantry was passing. The lead soldier, carrying a spear and a shield burnished in bronze, shouted something to his comrades, no doubt about sighting yet another stray civilian who would be better off rounded up and out of the way. He approached Thora slowly, keeping his weapon up but ready, and spoke. “Miss, this area is not safe. You need to come with us to a designated safe zone for civilians. Don’t worry, you won't be hurt.”

Unfortunately for the soldier, Thora’s self-control, weak to begin with, was at a particularly low point now. The result was rather imaginable. To her at least. The soldier stood no chance. She latched onto him, draining him completely in less than a minute.

The rest of the squad reacted immediately as the unknown woman seemed to bit into the lead man and bloodily murder him. They leveled their spears at her, the rear most man leaving at a dead run to inform his superiors that another Evoker had been found. While it was possible the woman was simply savage, it was unlikely in the Othean capital. And after all, he would rather risk being wrong about that than find out she was an evoker when she used some arcane ability to destroy his body or mind. The squad formed up to form as much of a wall of spears as they could and advanced with moderate speed on the woman. They would capture her alive if they could, but were prepared to fight to the death if necessary.

~|~

Darko had gotten about two thirds of the way down to the docks when he met the frantic soldier running up towards him. It did not take a genius to figure out why. Five of his escort moved out to catch him. After they did, Darko looked the soldier in the eyes. “You. Tell me where the Evoker is. Now.”

The soldier hesitated only the shortest moment to catch his breath before speaking “I will lead you to her right away sir!”

“Good.” Was all Darko said in answer. When the soldier finally turned about and led the way, he followed behind, mentally preparing himself for the confrontation. The soldier led him on a fairly straight route down to the docks. Though some civilians were still being escorted away to safety, the streets were fairly empty. Aside from the anti-pillaging guards, of course. Those were fairly common.

What met his eyes when he finally got to the scene was not a pretty sight. Upon the ground lay several soldiers, some dessicated as if they had been drained, others bleeding profusely from their necks. Eight of those who were still standing held spears firmly pointed at the woman who had to be the Evoker he sought. For one, her lower face was stained with blood, and he could almost see the fear upon the faces of the eight soldiers. They had somehow managed to force her into a corner, where she could not outmaneuver them. If he did not stop them, they would no doubt kill her.

“Soldiers. Stand down. I will handle this personally.” He turned to the four Vocators who had joined him. “Restrain her, but do not harm her. Your mistress says she’s of use to the Empress, may she live forever. It would be unwise to offend her.” The four vocators, one of whom was a lieutenant, started moving immediately. The soldiers in turn slowly started backing away, their eyes locked upon the Evoker.

~|~

The moment the soldiers’ spears were away, Thora tried to leap away, to find any means of escape. Only just as she started to crouch for the leap, one of the strangely dressed women moved faster than she had seen anyone move before, leaping straight for her legs, pushing her over. Before she could recover, the other three Grabbed her arms and held her down. She couldn’t understand how they’d moved so quickly.

~|~

Darko could see the surprise both upon the face of the Evoker and upon the soldiers at how quickly the subjugation happened. Considering how many soldiers had died, it clearly astonished them how none died now. Only when he was sure the Vocators held the woman down properly did he approach. “You have not been easy to find, my lady. I have an offer you will find acceptable.” He smiled at her, clearly confusing her. “The offer is simple. You will serve the Empress, may she live forever, and you will enjoy it. In turn, you will be provided whatever you need to do so.” He looked around, seeing how the throats of several soldiers had clearly been torn apart as if by an animal. “Food. Clothes. Training. Drinks. Anything and everything.”

~|~

Thora didn’t know what to make of this strange man. On one hand, he had her at his mercy, for no matter how she struggled, the strange women holding her down did not let her gain any extra mobility. On the other, he was treating her well, as if they were talking peacefully. She had slaughtered numerous of the soldiers in his service, yet he seemed not at all taken aback by it. And when he spoke of drinks, it was clear he referred to her thirst. It was almost as if he could understand… As if she wasn’t unique. And the offer did sound tempting. She just didn’t know how to answer.

~|~

When it was clear to Darko that the woman was considering his offer, he smiled to himself, then stepped closer. Kneeling down beside her, he pulled off his left glove, revealing the metallic object it had concealed. Giving it a thought, the citrine at its center lit up, glowing faintly in the rapidly fading light. When he felt ready, he gently brushed her hair aside and placed it upon her forehead, holding it firmly in place as she squirmed even more. Already he could feel the relics power working upon her mind. He just hoped she truly had considered his offer. Or rather, that she had considered the offer the Empress, may she live forever, had extended.

~|~

Thora didn’t understand what was happening. One moment, she had been speaking with the foreigner. The next moment, he had been pressing something that glowed into her forehead. Her mind seemed to lose all ability to focus. It felt as if her head was on fire, similar to yet completely different from how it had been earlier in the day when the blessed darkness was sundered. She found herself losing all track of time. She might’ve lain there for mere seconds, or it could have been hours. It was impossible to say.

~|~

The air this far from the inner city was thankfully clear of the Dread omen. Darko could ignore its effect somewhat, but it was not easy. Thankfully, using the Turning upon someone erased all trace of it, granting him a blissful feeling. He knew he’d be exhausted later, but he did not care. The vacant look on the evoker’s face clearly indicated that she was being affected. In fact, that vacant look was just how he had discovered that particular power some months ago. He nodded to the Vocators that they could let go. This far in, the turning could not fail. She would be no threat afterwards. Or rather, if it failed, she would die. At least no threat to servants of the Empress, may she live forever. It took about a minute and a half before there was a sudden bright flash of yellow. He pulled his arm back. halting the flow of willpower into the relic. It was done.

~|~

Slowly Thora’s consciousness returned from wherever it had gone. She couldn’t remember what had happened to her after the man had held something to her forehead. It was a bit strange. Nothing felt different, but on some level she knew something had changed. Moving slowly, she got to her feet. She saw the bodies of the ones she had drained earlier, but no longer saw any of the soldiers as a threat. It didn’t make sense why she had targeted them. They were her friends. Her allies. She did not want to hurt them. “What happened?” she asked.

The bearded stranger, whom she somehow identified as a friend, was smiling. “Do not worry. The confusion will clear up soon enough. My name is Darko Stojaspal. Why don’t you tell me your name? We all serve the same cause, after all.” He said to her. She couldn’t help but agree. “My name is Thora Thorvaldsdottir. What are we doing here?”

~|~

Darko smiled once again, the remnants of the Turning’s bliss still in his mind. “We are conquering this city in the Name of the Empress, may she live forever.”
He saw no reason to say anything more, for just as he said the last words, he heard Thora echoing them. The Turning had been a success. He had had great hopes with this one, so it was particularly pleasing to see the hope rewarded.

~|~

The words “May she live forever.” flowed off her tongue automatically. They felt a bit odd, but right. When Darko, as he called himself, nodded to the soldiers to move out, she followed. It made sense to do so. Some of the soldiers stayed behind to clean up the corpses. One of the women said she would have to be brought before a representative of the Empress so that her place and role in the Empire could be decided. Thora found herself not minding it at all. Serving the Empress, may she live forever, was all she longed for in life.

Tyrell

Tyrell lead the way along the shore line, staying away from the fire and moving at a fast pace so they could cut it off. Once he was satisfied that they were far enough from the blaze he cut into the forest and began leading them along. As he heard cavalry he pushed his companion into a stone formation and changed his skin, in the dark light he was hoping that the cracks all over his skin couldn't be seen and that they'd just carry on. When they did he just stood up and brushed himself down and looked at the man. "I hope you aren't going to get used to me saving your ass. We still need to find out where we're going from here. I'm not going to Kalesia and Othea isn't exactly safe right now."

Kheris

Kheris sat in the Throne room looking out the window on the far side of the hall. In his right hand energy swirled, collected over the years. He smiled to himself as he thought to himself, another century or so and he would finally be able to finish what he started over five hundred years ago when he had became a God. It had been a long path as he slowly realized his potential and found others who would be off use to him. Of course along the ways there had been those who had been less useful, though they too had their uses. In either fueling his power or increasing his understanding. Each sacrifice that came before him furthered his scheme, days meant naught to him he thought ahead in the grand scheme where he would truly become by all definitions a true god.

He let the energy soak back into his body and the relic. There was just two things in his way, his reliance on the relic and his reliance upon sacrifices to obtain the energy needed to use his powers. All he needed was to find a way to fuel his own relic, from wherever they derived their power from. Whatever magics were required. The courier walked down the hall, bowing before he even got close to the thrown and holding position. It was one who had been used by him often, and as such knew all too well what to do. "I have a task for you." He didn't even respond, good. Maybe would. "You must depart and inform Krig, Mareth, Numiel and Nuriel I require there presence immediately. Do you understand this?""Yes my Lord." He turned away and heard as the courier walked away. He entered the room behind the throne, immediately everyone bowed in his presence. Raising his arms priestesses came up and began clothing him in fine garments. It was however, the day for the ceremony of the sun where people would renew their loyalty to him. Typically he would do this himself, however he had reasons to want the others.

The ripples in the ground moved forwards out of the protective shell at an increasing rate. Jana smiled to herself, for she was showing her loyalty to the empress, may she live forever. Through the two narrow, foot-sized holes in the bottom of the metallic shell, she could feel the wonderful texture of the earth as it vibrated to her command. Nothing could stop the gates crumbling now. Nothing. Already she could feel through the earth that the gates were weakening. Her waves were gaining more and more space to move. She smiled.

Suddenly there was a massive surge of energy in the ground right beneath her feet. Jana had no idea what it was, not what it would do. She had never before felt anything like it. It was almost like her own surges, but foreign somehow. it did not really make much sense. Less than a blink of an eye after she first felt it, she heard loud pinging noises of rocks striking the bottom of the hull. Just as she realized it had to be an enemy evoker, one of the untrained ones, the rocks started striking closer. She screamed in agony as one grazed her right leg. stuffing a bit of leather between her teeth, she forced herself to continue. Then without warning, she felt a strange blending of energy, just as a pair of rocks struck both her ankles at great velocity. through the narrow slits in the floor, she saw the horrifying image as her legs bent where they should not, bent back underneath the flooring. The inexplicable surge was accompanied by her purest scream of utter agony, for having both legs shattered and mangled like that was pain beyond words. The surge of energy, created by the enemy evoker, somehow merged with her own evocation. One final, massive wave shot out as she lost contact with the earth. It was greater than any she had ever created before. She knew instinctively that not even walls could stand against such. Her shell was thrown back by it, and as she lost consciousness, she wondered what it looked like from the outside.

~|~

Only a short time before this, a courier had arrived in Alessia’s appropriated building from the other side of the city claiming the Dread Omen was beginning to spread too far into the city. One of the perils of wielding her power in such an unknown area, it seemed, was that the boundaries of it would often shift irregularly, especially in areas that were both out of her sight and never before seen by her eyes. She attempted a correction, but rather than hope she could maintain it from where she was, Alessia decided to join the Processus and make use of the farseers talent. A birds view of the city would surely help her to maintain the area of the spell more easily, which was vital for the civilian population, even if it meant being in the presence of the Processus more than necessary.

She arrived just in time to see a close up view of the gate assault, witnessing the metal shell hiding a battle evoker rattle and shake violently before a huge wave moved through the ground directly ahead of it. The farseer brought the view higher as this happened, and Alessia witnessed the gate, sections of the adjoining walls and countless buildings behind them collapse in miniature, making for an eerie display when scarcely a moment later the colossal rumble of uncounted massive stones falling reached the assembled command force.

When the rumbling stopped, she released a breath she had not realised she had been holding. Extending from the point at which the evoker had sat, a huge fan of destruction had been carved into the city, and already the Kalesian soldiers were storming into the breach to take advantage of it. The Processus was barking orders, troop movements of all kinds, and from what Alessia could tell, none of them concerned with the civilians that were undoubtedly caught in the swathe of destruction - or the evoker who had not exited the metal shell after the wave. Alessia knew how their commander felt about Evokers, and anyone ranked lower than her in general, and could tell that the poor evoker would likely be sacrificed in the furtherance of efficiency. She may not have been able to issue any orders to help the Othean civilians in the rubble, but at least she could save the Evoker, or escort her to safety if she was simply hiding in the armoured shell while the battle raged.

She took one of the order couriers aside and gave him orders to forward to one of the reserve Kalbeast units, they were to reach the armoured shell as quickly as possible and drag it out of the immediate vicinity of the battle, ascertain the state of the evoker inside, and call for the battlefield surgeons if necessary. No faithful servant of the Empress, may she live forever, would needlessly die if Lady Alessia Rezalla-Rhidian had anything to say about it.

Baron Isaiah Markul, The Black Knight

As the Baron's attack hit home, something was not right... It was armored on the underside? And then he felt the earth... it was in pain... Oh no... "Everyone, to me!" He commanded as He planted his foot down. Alas, only the Archer from before was close enough as the wall was obliterated... Except for some of it. Most of the gate remained, Markul willing the stone to stay together, trying to soothe it's agony. He didn't stop the waves, and he grimaced in the extreme pain of the effort, but he stood strong. But it would not last... Grabbing the Archer, he raised a stone disk and stepped on it, moving some stone to 'surf' down as the gate he had kept intact crumbled. The wall was gone, and at that point it became clear the city had no chance. Now, Markul knew nothing of the sides that fought, but he did not like to be defeated, and he did not like allowing the very possibility of one who had hurt the earth so to live.

So, these people, whoever they were, had made an enemy. Time would tell if this would even matter. He set the Archer down, dusting himself off. "So, I can see this city will fall. So I will be taking my leave. You are free to do as you wish, though I'd prefer if you didn't throw your life away..." He said, placing his hands in the brickwork of a nearby building as he parted the wall, almost like curtains and stepped through. The Archer wasn't sure what to think...

Numiel's chambers,
Niwey em Netjer

On the western side of the palace, a large, bright room was filled with expensive furniture and people. Most of them were slaves, men and women who were running back and forth to please their mistress with whatever it was she desired. On the far left side of the room stood a large gilded canopy bed, where a few slaves were still sleeping. The goddess who dwelled in these chambers didn't mind some of them sleeping in, she had more than enough slaves to serve her and satisfy her needs. Strewn about the room were cushions, in all sizes and shapes, and several of the goddess' favourites were seated on them. They were talking softly and laughter filled the room from time to time. The room was opened to one side and looked out over the palace's lavish, colourful gardens. A few musicians were playing a pleasant tune which intertwined with the soft murmur of voices and the chirping of birds. Two slaves flanked the sofa the goddess herself was lying upon and waved cool air in her direction. It wasn't even noon yet, but the sun had already begun heating the palace.

Another slave plucked a grape from a bunch and handed it to her. Numiel sighed with delight as she let it drop onto her tongue. The fruit's soft flesh spread its quenching juice over her tongue and she slowly licked her lips, letting out a soft moan of delight. She smiled slightly and could barely hold back a laugh as she looked up at one of the male slaves' cramped expression. She was consciously thinking about her every action. Controlling what effects her actions and appearance had on others was a little game of hers she liked to play. This summer had been an exceptionally hot one, but the grapes were still plentiful and sweet. Numiel and her brother's combined efforts, had prevented a famine and the memory of that minor victory over Mareth made the grapes taste even sweeter. Numiel chuckled softly and stretched out while yawning. "Life is good, is it not, my little ones?" She said, loud enough to be heard over the noises in the room.

Smiling faces turned her way and as one, her slaves answered. "Yes our Goddess."

She laughed heartily at their synchronised answer and elegantly put one of her feet to the ground. A smile curled her lips as she took notice of amount of time the men's gazes lingered on her body. Unless she showed herself in public, Numiel preferred not to wear any clothing but her skin and jewels. It made her feel pure, free and in control and she liked to think that her powers worked better that way. Naturally, the goddess of fertility felt no shame of her body and more importantly, clothes only got in the way of... more important things.

She was just about to go and take a stroll through the gardens when her chamberlain entered the room and bowed down to her. With a swift hand gesture, she let him raise to his feet.

"Speak, my dear Jahi. What is it you have come to bring to my attention?" "My lady. A messenger of Lord Kheris stands in the hallway, with a message for you personally. Lord Kheris requires your presence during today's ceremony."

A beautifully shaped eyebrow was raised as Numiel let that information sink in. "Only me?" "No my lady, all of the gods are required to be in his presence." Numiel smirked at the hope that had sounded in her question. And turned around to a group of women who sat near the gardens. "Naturally. Tell the messenger that I will join our dear lord shortly and that he need not send for my brother. He already knows." The chamberlain nodded curtly and left the room to inform the messenger. He knew that when his mistress said 'shortly', it would take her at least another two hours and of this he would inform the messenger.

Numiel gracefully clapped her hands together, resulting in the immediate attention of all those present. "Little ones, lord Kheris requires my presence during today's ceremony... For whatever reason he sees fit... You know what you should all be doing now. Leila, let the bath slaves know and see to it that your sister and her friends wake up in time to tend to my hair."

With another clap, the slaves dispersed, to ready the baths, prepare the oils, put the appropriate jewels and gowns on display for Numiel to choose, amongst a thousand other things they would have to do to make sure their mistress would be prepared.

---

Throne room,
Niwey em Netjer

The Throne room almost empty and Numiel noted with relief that it would be a while before the ceremony would start. Usually, she liked arriving a bit late, to add some flair to her entrance and lighten the solemn mood that usually hang in the palace. Today however, she knew Kheris would not be pleased if she demanded too much attention and angering Kheris was not a wise thing to do, not even when being a god yourself.

As she walked through the large hall, she noticed Kheris standing on the small podium upon which the throne stood, together with her brother. She knew that he would be here already, but she still clicked her tongue as a small sign of her irritation. Now Nuriel no doubt already knew why Kheris had demanded their presence. She walked up to the two and made a slight bow for Kheris. Only when he gave her permission, did she raise her head. "It is a pleasure to see you my dear lord Kheris, as it always is." She couldn't completely get rid of the hint of bitterness in her voice and eyes. Her words were honeysweet, but the way she stood betrayed her feelings. When speaking to others, she would at least make sure her feminine curves were even more visible than they usually were under her deep purple ceremonial gown, but in the presence of Kheris she didn't bother doing so. After all these years she knew better than that. Her head cocked slightly and a sly smile formed on her lips before she continued talking.

"But tell me, my Lord of Lords. Why would you require the presence of your fellow gods? It is not us the people swear loyalty to, but you, if I'm not mistaking?"

Myth, who had simply gone with Tyrell until he let him up, dusted himself off and took a few steps, a short pace. Then, he spun around, snapped his fingers, and said,
"Blademasters' Compact History of the World, Volume Six, states that one of the older prominent nations that favor Relic users rather than killing them or persecuting them. A northern country, desert, with some kind of religion revolving around living leaders, that have been the same for hundreds of years. Those guys have to use Relics, and their culture practically worships Relic-users. We can go there, I think. I don't think Kalesia will turn their eyes upwards, althugh if Othea had more allies, they should've. Expanded directly inland could be a fatal mistake for the Kalesians, since there are nations on both sides of the bridge across the continent that they seem to be working on."

Then, he spun around, facing Tyrell. "Would you like to go to this desert-y place? Wine and fruit, I heard, are quite exquisite. And, it is convienent to travel to, since we are already a bit more North than expected. Shall we go to the desertlands, or what?"

With that, he raised an eyebrow and awaited a response.

Kheris

Had anyone else spoken to him like that, he would have struck them down. Being Numiel however the corners of his mouth curled up slightly in what anyone else would not have seen as a smile. Though Numiel and the others knew him longer than anyone else, or at least anyone else who was still living. "You should know Numiel. They swear loyalty to all of us." It was true if he really wanted he could observe the relics of Mareth, Krig, Numiel and Nuriel until he too could use their power however it was simpler having underlings to manage the separate districts. He sat down on his throne, in a very regal manner. Mareth and Krig were yet to arrive however he looked upon Nuriel and Numiel, brother and sister."In truth this is likely to be one of the more important ceremonies we hold. There is a lot of unrest going on. My spies tell me the Kalesians appear to be on the move and there are rumours of movements in the ruins between ours and Kalesias borders. These could become very troubled times, we must keep the people in line. We are in no need of a pandemic yet however we must prove we are still strong."

He watched as the shadows darken. "Come out here Mareth." A man emerged from a shadows and bowed. "M'Lord." He was the most obedient of the others, though mainly due to the fact that his self preservation overwrote all the mans other instincts. Krig came into the room, the usual fanfare. Showing off muscles, winking at Numiel. He looked at them all and clicked his hand as slaves brought out four other, smaller, thrones to sit near his. The ceremony would begin soon.

Tyrell

They passed out of the forest and Tyrell looked at Myth. "Have you actually been told anything about the Dynasty? They're the thing of horror in Kalesia. Nothing is really heard about how they treat other relic users but outsiders aren't typically welcome for long periods of time. They and Kalesia have warred between themselves for generations." He looked over towards the forest and managed to see several other figures, obviously fleeing as well. One of them with a staff who he had recalled seeing in the city at some point. Tyrell pointed at them. "It looks like we aren't the only runners. Think we should stick to ourselves or strength in numbers?"

After having pulled them from the fire, starry took a second to fall to his knee. His leg had been hurting and aching even more lately, and he took a few deep breaths, trying to collect his thoughts. The fire could have started for any number of reasons, so he doubted that it was an attempt to kill him. Still, his name was starting to spread, and he was pretty lost, with only this strange man as his companion. But that's when he realized.
He had no clue where to go.
The place in the mountains was never specified, so he had little to no clue where that was. Furthermore, as he quickly leafed through the books he had gotten, he discovered that there was very little information relating to his search. He panicked a bit, gripping the book tightly in anger. Pebbles and rocks float around in random patterns, their gravity being bent and altered. Starry stood up, throwing the book to the ground. "Useless scholar. Damn books aren't worth anything."
He sighed, breathing deeply and calming his nerves. He looked over at the town being raided. He began to stroke his chin, thinking about the things he saw in the raid.
"Hey, Marcus, right?" He said, turning to his companion. "Did you notice anything odd about the invaders?"
If they were they people he was thinking they were, he might just have a way to get some direction.

The Wilderness near Amaryth

Luckily, he could breathe again. Marcus eagerly took a few breaths of fresh air. They had ran far enough for the crackling sound of burning wood to be heard only as a distant noise, when the Vagabond suddenly dropped to one knee. He was still holding Marcus' arm and so he was almost dragged down to the ground as well. The man's pained expression clearly showed that something wasn't right. With a worried look on his face, Marcus held out a hand. "Are you alright? Can I help?" The man hadn't been all too friendly towards him, but he had still saved Marcus' life twice that day and so the boy felt obligated to return the favour. Instead of taking Marcus' hand however, the Vagabond mumbled something in anger and almost as if they were responding to his voice, pebbles and rocks started circling around in the air. Startled by that sudden burst of power, Marcus took a few steps back and held his hands up in the air, unconsciously speaking soothing words. "Easy, easy. The fire is far away, we're safe."

The stream of soft, meaningless words was halted by Starry's piercing gaze. "Hey, Marcus right? Did you notice anything odd about the invaders?" Marcus was touched for a moment that the man had even remembered his name and Starry's remark regarding 'better not showing your enemies what they need to take from you' was wiped from his thoughts. He looked down to the ground as he pondered the man's question. He hadn't really gotten a good sight of the real invasion force, the black-clad women were the only that came to his mind... Besides...

"Well, I must say.. Starry... that I don't really have any experience with invasions nor invaders. I do however remember this small group of women, completely clad in black, suddenly appearing in the arena. Judging from how they overpowered the guards while being in the minority, I'd say those were an elite force. Or they belong to a really strong army... I must add that the thing that really seemed odd back there was when we were already in the boat. Do you remember the screams we heard? Those were the screams of men, not women. Don't armies usually... well.. rape and plunder and all that?" The more he thought about it, the stranger it seemed to him and he looked up at Starry with wonder on his face, expecting the man to come with answers, as he had done several times before this day.

---

Throne room,
Niwey em Netjer

Numiel smiled a slightly wry smile as a response to Kheris' words. They both were fully aware that the her words had been right, the people really only swore their loyalty to Kheris. His words, combined with that smile of his made a chill run down her spine. He had made it clear that he didn't wish for her to learn of his plans until they were executed, which stung her feelings, or rather, her pride.

She was just about to give a witty reply, when the room darkened slightly and a vague smell of death appeared. Mareth. Numiel turned around, barely able to wipe the look of detestation from her face. If there was one thing in the world she absolutely despised, it was The god of Death. The man barely spoke and wherever he went, his shadows and his reek of death followed. Numiel took a step back when Mareth approached the podium. Fortunately, his presence was slightly eased by the fact that Krig marched into the room. His obvious winking didn't go unnoticed and Numiel's genuine smile returned. "Oh please dear, stop the showing off, we all know your body is heavenly." She said with a smirk. While softly biting her lip, she took her time examining the said heavenly body. Teeth the colour of fresh snow, his handsome face, toned muscles, tanned skin and of course his..

"Please... By all there is to love in this world, I beg you... Halt those thoughts, they are utmost... distasteful." Numiel looked to her side with a wide grin on her face. Nuriel had seated himself on the smaller throne besides Kheris and Numiel sat down on the throne besides him, leaning over to whisper in his ear.

"Don't forget 'awful', 'horrific', 'outrageous', 'nauseating, 'revolting' and 'vulgar' my sweet brother. Besides, I don't think it was that obvious now, wasn't it?" Nuriel appeared even more pained by her seemingly indulgent smile.

"I sometimes truly have to remind myself of the fact that we are related by blood." He sighed slightly dramatically and brought his hand to his head before continuing. "Even a blind one could see the lust in your eyes, my dear sister. Let alone your twin brother. I do think it would be best if the people don´t find out about your nightly rendezvous with half the palace, wouldn´t it? It would be such an ugly stain on your reputation." He nodded at the slaves who had already filled the great hall and the commoners who were slowly gathering. Looking straight into his eyes, she would almost have thought he was seriously suggesting to hang out her dirty laundry, were it not for the twinkle in his eyes and the years she had spent by his side.

He brought a finger to his mouth, ushering her to remain quiet. The ceremony will start soon, dear sister. You know I love Krig as much as you do Mareth, so please refrain from fantasizing about him during the cermony, would you? She looked at him with a wide grin before shifting her gaze back to the hall, which was now completely full. A large group of commoners seemed to be unable to find themselves a seat and thus were lining the hallways, trying to catch a glimpse of those they called gods.

You are always so full of good ideas, Nuriel. I finally see why they call you the God of Wisdom, now I won't have to be bored during the ceremony. Numiel was sure that she could hear the sound of teeth grinding before she heard his reply.

Always a pleasure to help the less capable with my brilliant contemplations. However, as much as I enjoy our conversations, I believe Lord Kheris craves our attention for now. On a more serious note, you should not test the man. You may have your history, he has a vision. And he won't stop at killing slaves to reach it. Numiel managed to quickly dismiss those threatening last words and with a swift, casual wink towards her brother, she regarded the matter closed. Wiping the smug smile off her face, she sat down as comfortably as the throne permitted and shifted her attention to her lord.

[i]Smoke.

So much smoke...

Fog...[i]

Bor coughed. When he came to, his eyes refused to clear the predatory smoke that clouded his line of sight. No, it was real smoke, it got inside his nose, his mouth, his eyes... his eyes were watering. His feet felt rock.

“Shaman Samai!”
The old, tattooed man tottered and doddered his way through the hazy landscape. In his hand, he held a small hatchet.
“Shaman, I’m so glad you’re here! Do you know a way out?”


The old man didn’t seem to hear. In the uneasy silence, the old man simply limped closer.

“Shaman?”

Samai - or, what at least looked like him - collapsed into a monstrous being. What it was exactly, he did not know. He would never know.
“Get off! Get OFF! GET OFF! GET - AUUGH-”



“Woah, woah, brother! Calm down.”

“W-wha-?”

“Brother?”

Bor forced his magnetic eyelids open. The smoky, hazy feeling was gone. He attempted to sit up, but a forceful, hateful, determined thing shoved him back down. “Aaagh...”

“Bor?”

That voice. He knew that voice. He couldn’t be dead... yet.
“Gezar?”
That same soft nose, those same fierce, bony cheeks, those same emerald-green eyes that burned with a passion that had been unquenched for decades, and yet was so calm, like a lake of a thousand tiny, green mirrors. 
The same tattoos of blood on his cheeks.
Bor sat up to embrace his blood brother, but was immediately forced back down again. What was it? He looked down, and saw his torso wrapped in white bandages now stained with blood.
“Take it easy, keljar. You lost a lot of blood in that explosion.”
What explosion?
“The... the one with the talking tree?”

Gezar knitted his features into a soft frown. “There was a tree, but it didn’t talk...”
Bor nodded. "What brings you here?"
"Shaman said so, apparently from a vision and whatnot. He said that I'd know what to say to you when I got there. Well, now I do!"
"Mhmm."

Bor groaned and lay down again. His back pressed against uneven, uncomfortable rock. They were in a cave, not unlike that of a great beast’s throat. Sunlight spilled over into the small grotto. Bor suddenly felt a subtle lurch in his gut - they were embedded in a cliff.
“Not exactly the chieftain’s hut, but it will have to do.” Gezar reached over Bor’s torso and retrieved a container filled with some sort of blue liquid. “Try not to wince. This may hurt.”
Bor struggled to contain his obvious discomfort as Gezar reached under his bandages and spread the liquid.
“That will ease the pain for a bit. Morris!” 

Bor was immediately relieved as a certain vineman poked his head into the small space.
“Go and fetch flowers. The white ones.”

The vineman seemed to understood, a slight smile on his ‘mouth’ at his master finally coming to. He then bounded off.
“Do not worry. We are far from the fire, and Morris avoids the soldiers with ease.”
“What soldiers?”
“The ones that tried to kill me a few minutes ago, brother.” Gezar’s ensuing frown seemed to blemish his tattoos. “We should be wary of them.”

“Yes, yes...” Bor put a sweaty arm over his eyes, then removed it. “My axe.”

“What axe?”

“My woodaxe.”

“I didn’t find anything except for you at the explosion site.”

Bor silently cursed and closed his eyes, his hands again straying to a certain silver amulet.
“Ah. The god-amulet.”
Bor vainly attempted to conceal the Relic as his comrade raised a brow. “By Darratu law, possession and use of one is naught but death. I assume you remember that.”
Bor felt embarrassed that he had just been outspoken by a man skinnier than he. “Y-yeah...”
“Do not worry.” Gezar clapped a hearty hand on Bor’s soldier. “Just don’t tell anyone.”
“I... it’s our secret, right?”
The two shook hands. “Right.”