𝚁𝚊𝚢 𝙷𝚘𝚙𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚜

---

"Oh my god..." Ray could only watch in horror as the massive fireball plummeted into the distance. "There... there are people on there! Gal! That was a civilian liner!"

He stood up from his position in the grass, slightly sore from a rock that had been nestling itself in his abdomen. Still, that pain was probably nothing compared to... to... Ray shook his head clear. This was the sort of thing they'd been training for. Keep calm, keep your head about you, and focus. He looked at Gal, who was busy checking his phone. No signal, he saw from over his shoulder.

Sam was jotting down the locations of falling men. Good. Anything to make the rescue easier. They were going to rescue, right?

"Gal? We're going to help, aren't we?"

Ray didn't want to hear a negative answer. There were people dying out there! The Barghest Squad had fantastic abilities– not just for combat, but for everything else as well. It was only because of the war that such talented mages needed to focus on how to kill as many people as quickly as possible.

Killing people, well, that wasn't Ray's job. He was there to make sure that the killers on the team could do their job without being killed themselves. Shields, terrain manipulation, abilities to protect and save. And those abilities were needed now. But...

Would they go after the falling parachuters or head directly to the crash site? Which one would help the most?

---

The trek to find the gryphon had been quite the bonding experience. Yup, several young adults who'd been excited for their much needed vacation hiking for hours up and down a long dead forest was great. So much different from their squad training. Honestly though it wasn't all bad. Listening to the rowdier members of their group squabble was always kind of fun. The exercise had everyone sobered up by then too, so the Barghest were in full form for their usual antics. "Really hope this thing tastes good," Zak murmured to himself as he watched the beast from the hill. He'd really been looking forward to that barbecue before they'd gone on the hunt. That would turn out to be the least of his problems.

Soon after the gryphon's departure the Barghest squad was stunned into silence as the wreckage of an airship plummeted from the sky. The largest pieces of the liner made for intimidating meteors, smothered in ash and flame until they hit the cracked earth some miles out and continued to burn there on the ground. The scene was awful, and incredible. The red haired WARDEN hadn't even realized he was holding his breath until Galahad broke the solemn quiet that'd overtaken them. Gal was right like he so often was - the mass of fire that was once an airship hadn't looked like any Rassvet vessel he'd ever seen. Somewhere in the back of his mind a thought stirred: if it wasn't a ship of Rassvet design, then that meant...? But it looked civilian, from what little he'd glimpsed of it before it exploded into hot metal chunks. There was no reason a foreign civilian craft should be in their airspace.

As the other WARDENs began to speak up and think aloud, Zak kept his quiet for a little while longer - though he nodded along with some of his squadmates' words regardless if they noticed or not. There was a pit in his stomach. Was it from seeing such wreckage up close for the first time? He doubted it, the officers at the Citadel had drilled pretty much any scenario into their heads. Still, that sinking feeling was there. Zak was glad that Sam took the initiative to pinpoint survivors, and he didn't need to double checking the other man's words before he got to reorganizing - preparing for another trek through the badlands rather than a battle with a winged beast. It was Ray's uncertain question that finally coaxed Zak's voice from his throat.

"Of course we're gonna help," Zak all but snapped out. Dark eyes flickered towards the squad's de facto leader Galahad - a young man who, despite his reputation, was far from heartless. It was only a matter of time before they'd move out to help the possible survivors of the crash, and like most of them Zak was ready to get going. "I don't think the fire will spread in a place like this so - " the red head paused, swallowing thickly and dragging his gaze from the Barghest back to the burning remains of the liner, then out into the petrified forest where he guessed the parachutes might have landed based on Sam's initial spotting. With some talented Mist users on their team, there was no doubt they could put the fire out if needed, but it was... unlikely, to say the least, that anyone still in the ship when it crashed would have survived. And as he said, the flames shouldn't spread. The airship itself was the least of their concerns, they had to head towards the most likely survivors. "You all heard Sam. Come on, we should hurry."

@Yankee@stone@fledermaus@KaiserElectric@Dusty

---

“Lucky the damn thing didn’t land right on top of us.” Sam commented, tracing the smoke trail with his finger. Sam pointed out a few of the parachutes he saw dropping as live ones. Fortunately for them, the Barghest squad was close by, unfortunately for the Barghests, the parachutes seemed to be landing near the heart of the crash. Zak and Ray piped in as well, expressing their own concerns- Ray, the big teddy bear, was as usual worried about others, and Zak expressed his desire to go help as well.

Galahad nodded, ”Well, the gryphon’s gone and it looks like phone services are cut off in the immediate area- if we don’t go help them, I don’t think they’ll make it long enough for any rescue services. Hell, the only other people who saw the crash is probably Sappl Springs, and they don’t exactly look like they have the manpower for a rescue op.”

”That’s why we’re going!” Asa blasted out, her eyes squinting with dismay as she absorbed the sights and wonders along their little adventure. She blew a few raspberries as they trekked through the wasteland, her boots absentmindedly stomping over rocks and gravel as they pressed on.

”Fuck all knows that it’ll be more entertaining than this shit.” Her venomous words seemed aimed at their leader in particular, daggers aimed directly at the poor Galahad.

”How was I supposed to know hunting a gryphon was going to be boring?” Galahad retorted with a snort.

”You’re the straight-laced asskisser! Aren’t you supposed to be playing 4D chess in your head at all times? Unacceptable.”

Galahad rolled his eyes, ”Well, you’re welcome because my 4D Chess game just landed us our first Op before we’ve even hit the front lines.”, Galahad dismissed with a wave of his hand, his sidearm appearing from within the mist. He slid it into its holster on his side. ”Alright squad, gear up and get sober. We’re going on a Rescue Op.

Galahad pointed at Sabina and a few of the othersYou guys head back for the truck, if there are injured, chances are we’re going to need it to move them anywhere. The rest of you, with me.”

---

The Barghest squad arrived at the crash- or one part of the crash anyway- standing upon the lip of a huge crater and staring down upon the crashed leviathan. The wrecked airship had smashed its nose into the ground like a spear from the heavens, scattering across miles of wreckage. A twisted altar composed of flame and warped metal that lit up the night around it in proclamation. The long claw mark of the crashed ship large enough to fit the entirety of Sappl Springs within. Heat from fire and mist radiated from all around them and could be felt from the edge.

”Careful from here on in. The mist here is going crazy.”

Even those that weren’t as magical attuned as Galahad could feel it. An otherworldly and oppressive hum that seemed to encase the entire area and made his hair stand on end. It felt almost as if they were swimming on land, the very air itself was thick and lethargic with unseen heft. Ahead of them small flames burst into roaring pillars of fire as they interacted with the mist. In other small areas pieces of debris remained suspended in air as if gravity itself had turned off. In other still small desert flowers bloomed and died within an instant as time sped up around them. There was an old adage about mist reactors: when they broke, reality had a habit of breaking with them.

Galahad surveyed his surroundings taking in the display of carnage. Pieces of metal lay scattered across the ground like warped and distorted bones. There were other objects as well strewn across like toys after a child was done playing with them. There was half a chair here, the broken head of a statue there, and the remnants of a bed and so on. It all seemed far too ornate for any kind of military involvement reminding Galahad more of the estates in Orestia than anything else.

Then of course there were the bodies.

Galahad remembered the “Jane incident”. They hadn't been at the Citadel for very long- four years at the most. There was this kid Jane, she was another magical type like Galahad. However unlike self-confident Galahad, Jane had doubts. The thing about Mist is it's a fickle bitch and it can sense your apprehension. So one day when they were all practicing Jane had the task of creating a shield out of fire, a basic sort of defense spell. But Jane was scared so the spell turned on her and so did the fire. It was hard to forget the smell of burning hair and flesh, and it was that all too familiar smell that assaulted Galahad’s nose.

Most were charred beyond recognition but some weren't. Galahad knelt down in front of one of the bodies that had been thrown to the lip of the crater, using his foot to turn the man over. A man maybe in his mid-late thirties, dark hair cut in military fashion, stubble across the jaw. It was the burnt remains of his uniform that drew Galahad’s attention the most. It was a uniform that he and the rest of Barghest had been studying for years: A Vangar officer's uniform.

”They’re fuckin’ imperials!” Asa shouted, probably some form of effort to announce this to her comrades. She was probably one of the last ones to notice that detail, however.

It was in her nature to scavenge, in her blood even. Her eyes glanced along some of the nearby bodies, the ones that weren’t blown to smithereens, shuffling through their wardrobe for anything shiny or metal. A mischievous smile was painted from ear to ear and she copped a loose watch, platinum alloy, nice engravings on it too. And then there was a Vangar Imperial Navy Sidearm, nothing like gramps could make, but free is free!

Before she got too far, Galahad stepped in and pulled her back by the shoulders- a bit rougher than expected. ”Mist Spot.” he stated bluntly, that enough of an explanation in and of itself. Asa had gotten perhaps a foot away from melting her face off.

To most, Mist was invisible, and hard to detect, and even those trained in detecting the Mist could find difficulty tracing it in such a Mist-Hot location- such as the crash they were currently in. Some or the larger pockets of Mist were easily recognizable: the floating rubble and intense heat were things that people could easily notice and avoid. The more difficult to spot plumes were the medium strength plumes of Mist. Their energies masked by the intense heat of the crash itself, the Mist spots, while not as deadly as walking face first into a Mist spike, were much more dangerous due to their difficulty to spot and side-effects. Mist burn was an injury commonly experienced by search and rescue crews- and was often their cause of death. Much like radiation, absorbing too much Mist from these invisible plumes would cause nausea and could destroy the body quickly if left untreated.

It also made the use of energy based and ranged spells problematic. A lightning bolt could set off a stray pocket of Mist, and then they'd all be in danger. And since detecting some these Mist pockets were difficult for even dedicated mages, it effectively gimped the range that they could safely fling spells. More of a problem for himself than any of the other members of the team, as no one else was a dedicated spell slinger, at least not in the same vein as himself.

”And don’t loot the fucking corpses. We’re Wardens not conscripts.” He added with an exasperated sigh.

”I wasn’t going to get that close.. but they’re dead, not like they need any of this shit anyway.” Asa pouted before glancing to Galahad and the rest of her team, sifting the watch into her right pocket and popping the clip out of the handgun to see if it were loaded. It was- so she’ll take the small win.

”But if there is a fuckton of mist spots.. which I can now see that there most likely will be. How the fuck are we supposed to do anything?” She quipped, surveying the entire scene with a strained frown upon her face. Even if they were the enemy, it looked rough.

”There’s still a way to the center, just be careful- everyone. Galahad replied as he stared down the crater, mentally marking all the hotspots he could see.

”Alright squad, let’s fan out. Zak, Ray check out the bodies, maybe there’s a survivor somewhere in here. Sam, Bete- security. We’re alone out here, I’d like it to stay that way- make sure we’re clear. Asa, figure out what we’re looking at here- and be careful about it. I’ll be calling out mist spots as I see them, so keep an ear out for me.”

Finally, something worthwhile for the scatterbrained bitch of a Warden to focus on. She beamed a toothy smile to Galahad, quickly forgetting about the previous back and forth between the two. Her right hand flattened and raised diagonally to her opposing shoulder, offering the big-brain a Aporian salute before digging her boot heels deep into the earth below and taking off in a flash.

"Hey, Roland. Turn that shit up. It's a vibe."

"Don't you dare touch it, Roland. Some of us are trying to sleep."

Zimmy flashed the other WARDEN--Aine Anders--a winning smile. "Captain Anders," she said, careful to use the proper rank. Couldn't be too careful, now that they were going home. "Shouldn't we be celebrating a bit? They're taking us back to Rassvet, remember?"

"I'll celebrate when I'm back back at the Citadel in my bed, Morander," said Anders, sitting up on her cot and fixing the younger woman with an even stare, daring her to argue. After a pause, Zimmy nodded, and the captain lay down again, draping an arm over her eyes.

"You're a real buzzkill, Cap'n." Zimmy's lips twitched, and Anders laughed, a genuine, throaty sound.

"Watch your mouth, Zimmy. I could have you court-martialed after all these months of backtalk." The Captain's tone didn't match her threats. Of all the Rassvet Prisoners of War Vangar had, Zimmy and Aine had bonded the quickest. Similar families, and similar interests. Zimmy owed the Captain more than a few drinks when they got back to Rassvet after numerous lost bets.

Roland, the guard assigned to their two cells, met Zimmy's eyes and shrugged. Technically, he could do whatever the hell he wanted, being their captor and all. But Captain Anders had a way about her. Even the Vangar guards found it hard to go against her will. "Cap'n's orders," he said, only a practiced professionalism hiding his sarcasm.

With a sigh, Zimmy fell back against her own cot and tugged absently on the manacle on her wrist. Five months without the mist. Almost as bad as five months without a drink. She'd been given plenty of food, company, and entertainment, but compared to the finer things in life, they might as well have waterboarded her every night. Once you learned to fly, you could never sit comfortably on the ground again. Being trapped in a cell for months was even worse, like being tossed from a ship into the ocean with an anchor chained to your leg.

The Palatine tilted slightly--it did that every so often, adjusting to the wind or the mist reactor's output level.

Then the floor tipped beneath her, the walls shook, and the ceiling exploded. Zimmy tipped forward out of her seat, crashing against the bars of her cell with a crack. She forgot how to breathe briefly, rolling to one side. The walls vibrated, sending shudders through her skull and teeth. Slowly, her weight started to lessen, as if the Palatine was dropping.

"Morander! Get the fuck up!" Anders' voice cut through the shock, giving the young WARDEN enough presence of mind to get her feet under her again and look up. Through tears of pain, she saw Roland stumbling up the inclined floor toward her. A spike of rebar stuck out of his shoulder, but the burly man's snarl showed none of the agony he must have felt. He pulled the key-chain out of his pocket with his good hand and fumbled open the lock on her door.

Adrenaline was kicking in now, with everything moving in slow motion. Zimmy reached out and clung to the bar's of the cell, half-climbing up to the door. She looked across the hallway and her heart dropped into a pit.

The bottom half of Captain Anders was buried under a pile of concrete and metal. Her face was bone white, but fierce in its determination. "What are you looking at, cadet? Get out of here. That's a direct order."

"Aine!" Zimmy pushed past Roland, leaping across the tilting hallway to grasp at the bars on the other side. She whipped her head back at Roland, eyes wide. "Roland, gimme the keys! We gotta get the damper off so she can--"

"Elizima!" Aine coughed and held up a hand. Her features softened. "I'm not walking away from this, honey. Can't feel my legs, and my lungs aren't draining. You get out of here if you can. See if you can find any other WARDEN, but prioritize bailing. Roland, get her the fuck off this ship!"

Roland actually saluted the woman, and grabbed Zimmy with his good hand. She wanted to slap him, but her balance was off and his mass pulled her free of the bars. With an angry scream, she hit the hallway floor and slid away from the cells, kicking at Roland to no avail.

"You son of a bitch! You motherfucking SON OF A--" Zimmy's head cracked against the tile, and when her eyes opened again, Roland had her slung over one shoulder, jogging along the outside wall of the ship. "Bitch," she muttered, shaking the stars from her eyes. No luck. "Where are we going?"

"Escape pods," he grunted. "Almost there."

He only made it another three steps before the wall in front of them exploded outward. The wind rushed in with a shriek, tossing them to one side. Zimmy hit the ground with an undignified whump, but she rolled to her feet in full fight-or-flight mode. Roland cursed as he fell, and didn't get up. The spike in his shoulder oozed blood.

Zimmy reached out a hand toward him, and froze as she saw the manacle on her arm. Mist. "Roland!" She shouted. "Roland, gimme the keys! I can save us!"

The man looked at her in abject shock. "Are you fucking serious?"

She couldn't help herself: Zimmy rolled her eyes. "No, I'm married to him! Give me the fucking keys!"

For a millisecond, neither of them moved. Then the wind picked up next to them, howling louder, and Roland broke. He held out the key chain to Zimmy, and she snatched it free. The third key unlocked the damper, and she hurled it away from her.

The power hit her like a sack of bricks, and she almost fell out of the ship. After months of darkness, the mist appeared like a sea of stars: little pin pricks of light that permeated the air, the metal, and all the spaces in between. She could use those dots of light, smoothing them or stretching them.

Or pushing on them. Zimmy darted forward, and with a newfound strength born of magic-infused adrenaline, hoisted the big man up in her arms. She took a few shaky steps, groaning, under the weight.

Then she jumped.

In retrospect, she should have expected the heart-stopping drop. It had been five months since she'd practiced, and flying was hard. They plummeted down and away from the ship, and for the first time Zimmy saw the extend of the damage. The Palatine had been transformed from the pinnacle of a high-class envoy ship into a flaming heap. How? How had it gone wrong so quickly?

A jolt of turbulence refocused her. Right: fly now, hypothesize later. She closed her eyes, reaching out to the sparks. They were slippery, but she was WARDEN, not some common bitch. The wind heeded her call, and gravity phoned in a holiday. She had to extend part of her power to Roland, but she'd flown Ray goddamn Hopkins himself on one of her better days. Roland was a baby in comparison.

The shitty radio spun past her, still playing. Zimmy swore at it out of instinct, and it tumbled away. The ground was rushing up to meet them. They were coming in hot, and shrapnel from the Palatine was coming in hotter. With Roland in tow, should couldn't do much more than lurched to one side or the other, so with a quick prayer to the Dawn, she dropped them a little faster. She aimed for a patch of shrubbery that hadn't been set on fire, and forced as much of her will into the gravity well of Yerin as she could without diving straight into mistburn. At the last second, she twisted Roland to be above her, spiked shoulder facing up.

The landing was not soft. Roland, even at a third his weight, forced the air from her lungs with extreme prejudice. Pain lanced up her side--cracked rib--and she bounced off the shrubs onto the dirt. Roland rolled away from her, coming to a stop a few feet away.

A few seconds later, a resounding boom shook the world, only a short ways away. For a few more seconds, Zimmy lay on her back and stared up at the sky: blue streaked with red, black and gray. Her breath came in gasps, her body ached, and her head swam. Mistburn, then.

Zimmy screamed as she hauled herself to her knees, voice echoing through the countryside. She scrambled for Roland's prone form, swearing under her breath as he didn't move. "Don't be dead don't be dead FUCKING don't be fucking DEAD--"

She put a hand on his neck. She felt a stubborn pulse under her fingers. She collapsed onto his chest and started to sob.

---

Between the smoke and the stench of death it was hard not to instinctively clamp a hand down over his nose, but the red haired WARDEN managed it. His senses were on alert, even the sense of smell. This was an unusual scenario - not a crashed ship, but a clearly shot down one in the middle of nowhere. It wouldn't do to be unprepared for the unexpected. As the squad moved closer to the crash site and into the area of wayward Mist, this time Zak couldn't help a physical reaction that manifested as a bone deep shudder. The heavy Mist areas always felt oppressive and alien for him. He stuck close to the group as they traveled further in, passing the scattered remains of ship and men alike. Vangar men, as it turned out. Even more unusual. If it was a Vangar ship that was shot down at the border, how the hell did it make it this far out before going down?

It was a question that could be answered later once they found any survivors, if there were any to be found. Zak gave his quick affirmative after Galahad's instruction and looked over at their largest member.

"You mind, Ray?" Zak asked with a nod of his head in the direction Sam had spotted the parachutes going down in. The red head would probably be the worst member of their group to rely on for spotting the dangerous pockets of Mist, better for Ray to take point.

“One moment.” Ray focused, then tapped Zak on the shoulder. A light blue wave of energy shimmered over his coat, then faded. “This should help. I can’t really protect you from the pockets, but if you feel the barrier giving out then you know you’ve stepped in one.” He proceeded to give a minor barrier to the rest of the team. It was kind of a weird feeling, but one they’d gotten used to.

“You’re the best, buddy.” The redhead’s words were genuine, but lacked a certain mirth given the situation they were in. With the minor barriers in place the duo split from the rest of the Barghest.

The first person they came across was dead– impaled through the head by shrapnel. The two tried to avoid looking at the body’s mauled face. Ray knelt down next to it.

“I wish I could give them a proper burial– even minor earth manipulation is dangerous here,” he murmured softly. There was something about the area that commanded silence.

“They’re Vangar.”

Zak’s voice was equally soft even if it carried a very different sentiment. “Besides, they’ll get buried once the wreck is stable and cleaned up.” He wandered just a little ways off where what looked like a partially buried arm caught his eye - but a hot draft swept over the area and blew the charred limb into pieces before carrying it off. He grimaced. The ones that weren’t cremated anyway...

“Vangar or not, these people… Hm.” Ray stopped. It wouldn’t do to continue down that line of thinking. Zak approached and nudged Ray with the side of his leg in a gesture the redhead hoped was encouraging. The two carried onward in their search. Again and again, they’d find charred and tattered corpses.

“This one’s dead too,” Zak called over once they reached the first of the most likely survivors. Of course ‘most likely’ wasn’t a guarantee. It looked like the man’s chute was shredded in the air, making for a deadly free fall into the scorched graveyard.

“I can’t believe this.” Ray crouched down next to another body. “Is this what we’ll find on the front? Black ash and burnt flesh?” It was a tough pill to swallow. Sure, they’d been trained extensively, hardening their bodies and wills beyond ironclad strength, but such devastation… he couldn’t help but feel apprehensive about what awaited his friends.

Clearly Ray was taking this hard. He was a kind soul, the kind that would grieve over a killer. For a long while Zak didn't say anything to the other man. He didn't really know what to say. The sorrow that was plain on Ray's face was painful to see. Not only did it suck seeing his soft-hearted friend hurt, but it also had Zak, a young man long resigned to fighting and dying for his country, questioning his priorities a little bit.

"..." He still didn't have a clue what Ray needed to hear right now, but he did need to hear something before the guy broke his own heart over this. "Doesn't have to be. Not with you around. That's why you started specializing in the barriers, right? To protect our guys. I'm sure any company you get assigned to'll do just fine." He would have offered Ray a smile if it felt appropriate, but there were plenty of ghosts in the air that didn't have their own Ray with them that would have been sure to hold a grudge. Or maybe it was just the Mist. Either way.

"Come on, let's keep moving. I can smother the worst of the fire ahead, just hope none of the Mist Spots go off."

Ray put on a shaky smile. “Yeah. Let’s go.” It was rare for the big man to act so unsure. He had to put on a strong image of security for his friends. He was the constant, the unmovable pillar of support in the Barghest squad.

The duo continued their solemn search. Anytime it seemed Ray was slowing down, getting pulled into his own thoughts a little too much, Zak would give him a light push forward. With patient, practiced precision the towering flame walls shrunk under the WARDENs commands, giving them safer passage. The scene was much the same the closer they got to the vessels: the earth ripped up where the airship had scraped against it during the crash, the bodies of what would have been the passengers and crew haphazardly thrown about and burning up. Soon enough the flames gave way to a more open area where a man lay, attached to a parachute crumpled a few feets away from him. He looked to be in bad shape, but he also didn’t look like a kindling log - though if left to lie there that might quickly change.

“Ray,” Zak breathed out the other man’s name harshly, directing the brunette’s attention ahead.

Ray rushed forward, uncaring of any danger in his path. He barely even thought about reinforcing his barrier; his only concern was the body in front of him. Zak’s muted warning to be careful fell on deaf ears. He quickly checked the man for vital signs.

“He’s alive. He’s alive. He’s alive,” Ray murmured to himself as he set about inspecting the man’s wounds. He said the words quickly, almost like a rushed prayer. He would not let this man die. There was a first aid kit in his shoulder bag– he dug it out and set about cleaning the man’s wounds. After a far more cautious approach the other WARDEN knelt down beside the injured man. He was older, and -

“He’s been shot!” Zak exclaimed in surprise, though Ray was already treating him and was well aware. It was a cursory look at the wounds, but they were definitely not the kind of injury that would have resulted from impact. A warship’s guns would have torn the man in half, so it wasn’t just the Vangar vessel that was attacked. Someone on the inside? If the old man survived they’d have their answers, hopefully. Zak stood up and called back to where they’d left the rest of the Barghest squad. “One male, alive, badly wounded!”

The old man looked like he was barely holding on, his left leg looked burnt to all hell, and a trio of smoldering holes in his chest suggested he was shot by something closer to a lightning bolt than a bullet. His sternum raised slightly and elicited a rough wheeze as the Barghest boys pulled him out of his parachute harness. For a moment, as Ray tended to him, the eyes shot open- a glowing grey; the telltale insignia of a Vangar Royal Knight- that or overexposure to the Mist. The man jerked forward, his arm suddenly grabbing at Ray with a vice grip stronger than steel.

“The Princess..!” He wheezed, his eyes darting back and forth for a moment, almost as if they were seeing through the boys, searching for something, before they rolled back in his skull. The grip released and the man collapsed in Ray’s grasp, his breathing weak and haggard.

“I must... I must find…”

“Hey, don’t exert yourself by speaking right now. Focus on breathing and relaxing.” Ray bit his lip, then took another risk. He placed his hands on the ground next to the old man and raised a barrier up, bearing the old man on it like a stretcher. It would be too much of a risk to move him– the best he could do was make a clean surface.

“Zak. Can you make sure there’s not any immediate danger around us?” Ray asked. “I need to focus on this man’s injuries.”

“Yeah.” Zak stood in one swift motion and gave Ray and his patient some space. When the ship went down it destroyed most of the stone formations - one thing to be grateful for as they didn’t need to worry about anything toppling down over them. Zak expelled a deep breath from his nose before extinguishing as much of the fire around the clearing as he could. They wouldn’t have to worry about the environment taking a turn now. As far as other threats…

The shorter man glanced back at Ray and his charge, eyes narrowed. The old man was technically an enemy, but it was a miracle he was even alive - besides, Ray could handle himself against one injured Vangar. A princess, huh? Zak disappeared deeper into the inferno then, continuing the search for any other survivors while the other man got to work.

Ray first stripped off most of the man’s clothes using his combat knife. Underneath the Vangar uniform, the old man was surprisingly toned. That was good. The better the victim’s physical health, the more likely they were to recover.

“What in the world…” As Ray looked closer at the man’s wounds, he realized that they weren’t from bullets. Rather, they appeared to be from energy attacks– either from lightning conjured from mist or mist blasts. That complicated things. He didn’t want to seal any wounds if there was any mist residue in them. Cleaning them with disinfectant and letting the body heal naturally with minimal magic would probably be the best option.

But, then again, the man could be in greater danger than it seemed. Magical wounds had a habit of being extremely unpredictable. Ray hesitated, then placed his hands gently on the man’s chest. The leg burns were too far gone– only a hospital could treat those– but the other wounds were doable. Three holes in the chest, with only one reaching deep enough to reach his lungs. He concentrated, drawing circles on the man’s chest with his fingers, pulling in the abundant power in the area and lightly coaxing the wounds to close. It was important to heal from the inside out; covering up internal ruptures with flesh was never a good idea. First, the internal tissues, then the membrane, some blood vessels, and finally the skin on the outside. It was agonizing, slow work, and he wasn’t even a professional. The man would need proper care later. What Ray was doing was only a temporary solution. He could hear his own breathing– a long, extended inhale followed by a slow exhale– the recommended way of relaxation for medics. It reminded him constantly of the fragility of life, how all it took was a lucky shot, an unfortunate turn, a...

“Come on… come on…” He shook himself out of that dark line of thinking once again and focused on his work. As the skin covered up, Ray left a slightly darker patch of skin where the holes once were. It would hopefully help any doctors taking proper care of the man afterwards. Eventually, the man’s breathing evened out to a slow, steady pace.

“Oh man. It’s over. He should be alright for now. Did you find anyone else?” Ray all but collapsed onto his projected surgery table. He’d noticed Zak’s return shortly before. Unfortunately, the red head’s face was grim and dotted with sweat. The thin barrier he’d been gifted earlier was all but eroded.

“No,” he said, and didn’t feel the need to give a more detailed report than that. The duo had seen it all at this point anyway, all blackened bodies giving way to ash. “And the blaze farther ahead is way too intense for anyone to survive more than a few seconds. There’s probably a better chance for survivors back the other way.” He nodded his head down the path they’d initially come. “I cleared the path out a bit, should be easier to get back… if you think we can move him.” With another quick movement of his head Zak gestured to the man on the slab.

“I should be able to. I’m not too worn out yet.” Ray stood and stretched. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had to do something this complicated. I was worried about decay, but this guy’s hardier than his age lets on.” He put a hand onto the front of the barrier table and linked its movement to his own. “Are we heading back?”

“Yeah, let’s get going.” Zak took point on their way back, and despite the careful trek with an injured party the boys made decent time back toward the rest of the squad. Though dismal, their search hadn’t been entirely unsuccessful - and surely the rest of the Barghest would want to know all about the beat up Vangar and his missing princess...

@ML@Vietmyke

---

After a few minutes of dry heaving and triple-checking Roland’s breathing, Zimmy’s adrenaline started to fade, and the pain started to set in. It was pretty bad, she realized. Cracked rib for sure, a man down, and stage one mistburn. She’d survived the explosion, sure, but what now?
She licked her lips. Dry from the wind. “Help,” she shouted, except it was a whisper, because her voice was hoarse from screaming before. She cleared her throat, braced herself for the pain, and screeched again: “Anyone!” It came out blurred, and the word tore at her throat. Coughs wracked her body.

Asa had already started her sweep of the area on Galahad’s order. Her sight glanced between stray debris from the wreckage, to unrecognizable bodies that had already been marked “untouchable” by the Barghest de facto leader. Such a waste, but nonetheless, her scouting would continue- dashing quickly from location to location with mist streaming through her legs.
A knife would slowly reveal itself from her mist pocket, the silvery bejeweled blade flying out and sticking into a standing petrified tree. The blade would flash a brilliant red hue and suddenly she was gone, appearing at the knife’s location and supporting her weight as she stood on top of it. With the higher point of view she absorbed the full grandeur of the wreckage and what was strewn across the hot zone it laid within. She scanned the scene carefully- taking note of anything that would stand out among the smoke, rubble, and pieces of enemy airship. And then something caught her eye, a vaguely familiar silhouette at the rearmost end of the wreckage. “There’s no fucking way.” Her eyebrows furrowed and her eyes squinted, it was too far to confirm from her current position. So, she loosed a second blade from her pocket- the silvery knife launched at a blurring speed before landing a short distance from the target and those around them.

There was a hiss to her left. That was all the warning Zimmy got before a dark-haired woman popped out of the aether beside her.
It was Asa. Zimmy had thought she was out of emotion for the day, but her heart leapt into her throat. Asa, the teleporting firecrack. Asa, who had once stolen for Zimmy a bottle of Silver Glory--their Shine brand, not the crappy shit--just because the older woman had been having a tough day.
“I’m hallucinating.” She mumbled, even as she fought to keep tears out of her eyes. “There’s no way.”

“Maybe, there’s plenty a’reasons to hallucinate at a time like this.” Asa quipped back as she plucked the knife from the soil and gave the blade a few twirls between her digits. What should have been a heartfelt reunion was instead met with an aura of tension.
“Before we start getting starry-eyed and reminisce over the time lost— who’s the stretch?” The blade in her was lightly gripped within her small hand and pointed out towards the other person in their current company.

Pretty convincing hallucination. Even had Asa’s voice. It...probably wasn’t a hallucination, Zimmy admitted. But then: “Asa, what the fuck are you doing here?” her voice came out in a rasp, and she coughed again. This time, something tangy hit her tongue. Blood, or sweat?

“Vacation along the countryside before we graduate- figured we may as well have fun before we get shipped off to die.” Asa’s tone shifted a bit as the seriousness in her voice loosened, just a bit.
“Honestly, I’m more excited t’ head home and see the folks. The ol’ geezer hasn’t seen my face in a few years — I’m getting sidetracked.” The blade flipped in Asa’s hand, now she clutched the blade lightly and brought the handle to bop herself on the forehead once before uttering something silently.

“Enough with the small talk, who’s the corpse?” The blade that was wedged into the petrified plucked itself free and in a flash came to land right next to Asa’s right boot.

“He’s not fucking dead!” Zimmy snapped, wincing at the pain. Could Zimmy blame Asa for being standoffish? After disappearing for months, and reuniting like this… “His name’s...Roland.” Her breathing was labored, but she fought through it. “He was my...my guard.” she focused on getting out short sentences.
“I was...a prisoner. Captain Aine Anders was a prisoner. Other WARDEN too. Don’t know who survived. He saved my life. I saved hi--” another wracking cough. When she recovered, Zimmy mumbled. “Mistburned. Cracked rib, maybe worse. Don’t kill him, you dumbass.”

A hum breathed out from the Aporian girl’s glossy lips. Her golden-brown eyes peeled themselves from the former comrade and to the enemy on the ground. Asa dwelled on the situation, for a good chunk of time- a long two or three minutes of weighing the options out mentally. Why wasn’t anyone else here for this- she wasn’t the brains of Barghest.
“Fuck it, I am a dumbass. Can you stand? Can you walk? Zak and Ray should be doing their rounds for survivors, anybody else worth— saving— that I should know about?” Her free hand reached itself up to her head and ran fingers loosely through the raven locks of hair. The golden sights rolled, this was too much for her and now it was time just go with the flow.

“Zak and Ray?” Zimmy’s breath caught again. Those fuckers were still kicking, then. Papa bear and mister two names. It all felt so outlandish. A burning skyship, and her family just happened to be in the vicinity?
Focus. “Is Galahad still pretending to be in charge or whatever?” she said.

“Everyone’s still around— except you. Babe, I’m sure you’re in shock right now, but I’m going to need you to answer my questions before we get you out of here.” Asa was always like this when it came to business, she just wanted to be relaxing in the back of the truck again, developing a darkening bruise on her ass.

“I mean,” Zimmy chuckled, the fog clearing just a bit. Asa was business, so she could be business too. “I was going to say: ping him. My Aegis went down a while ago, and I’ve been manacled for most of that time.”
She cleared her throat. “I can walk. Roland is out. I’m not leaving him. Tell Galahad and the others to look out for the Vangar crown princess. Colette Van Skymning was on the ship.” She smirked, not quite feeling it in her heart yet. “Don’t kill her either. I think she might be one of the good ones.”

The pain came again. “You got anything for pain, Ace?” Her will was failing--fuck her ribs hurt.

“Good ones ‘eh?” Asa shook her head before waving her hand past her right ear for a moment, a mental cue to focus on using the communicative aspect of her Aegis.
“Yo— Captain Boring Pants, I’ve got an update on recon. One and a half possible survivors, one of which is a familiar face- the other is an expendable. What’s the order?”

”Familiar? Care to clarify? I thought you were good with details.” came back the equally snarked reply.

“Familiar, like a relative you haven’t seen in a few years. I’ve never been good at details, that’s why I— nevermind, it’s Zimmy, and her hostile boyfriend. Actually, I doubt it’s her boyfriend but I didn’t care to remember the details about an enemy who is incapacitated.” It was very in Asa’s character to spew drawn out sentences, with little to no information.

”Zimmy? Alive? Are you sure you’re not hallucinating on Mist?” for once Galahad sounded surprised, though his voice quickly shifted back to its usual skepticism.

“You know, I asked myself the same thing. But it’s them— in the flesh. They’re a bit shaken up from the crash, said something about the princess being here too. I probably should have started with that, huh?”

Asa could almost feel Galahad’s eyes rolling from a hundred yards away, ”Yeah, probably. Alright, bring it in, I’ll let the others know too. ”

“Okie-doke, I’ll keep an eye out for anything else interesting. Heading back towards your location now.” Asa’s hand returned to her side and her sights shifted back to the shellshocked former-comrade and the unconscious man on the floor.

“Looks like we get to have our happy reunion, and you get to bring your boyfriend. Maybe dad will even approve of him, who knows?” Asa flashed a venomous grin at Zimmy before shaking the notion off entirely.

“If I survive this,” Zimmy mumbled, “I’m going to drop you out of the sky.” She shook her head, clearing what cobwebs she could from her mind. “Okay. What’s the plan? I’m kind of out of play here unless someone can patch me up. They took my gun, too.”

“We’ll take the quick route, Mata Express. I’ll be useless afterwards- but that’ll be Gal’s problem when we get there.” Asa’s words were nonchalant, rolling out with little weight of importance. Galahad was the responsible one, so if this ended poorly, it was on his head!

The firecracker of Barghest looked off towards her starting position beyond the horizon, her pupils widening as she strained her vision to increase the working distance of her sight. She wasn't the greatest at sensing mist, likely because of her stubborn-boorish-bitchy nature, but she was a scout for a reason! Asa approximated a good location for the three to be transported and extended her right arm with a pointed index finger. In the blink of an eye three of her knives launched out, loosing themselves from her mistpocket and stuck into large chunk of airship in the distance. Doing the whole trip in a single jump would be too taxing, two-or-three would need to suffice. Her posture loosened, relaxed, and she casually strolled on over to the unconscious Roland fellow, and good ol' Zimmy. She gripped her former compatriot's clothing with her left hand, clenching hard- but not aggressively, and then bent down- likely taking Zimmy down with her to grab the enemy soldier. Asa took a deep breath and closed her eyes, this would either make her life easier- or much worse.

---

"Squad let's regroup- get back to my position." Galahad called out, his Aegis transmitting to the rest of the Barghests, Asa found two: Zimmy and one other- sounds like that means this is supposed to be the diplomatic envoy from Vangar for the peace talks and prisoner exchange. The real question is why the ship was here, and not at Orestia- which was considerably closer to the border, and why it was already here when it wasn't supposed to be in Rassvett territory until the morning.

Still feeling out with the Mist, Galahad looked for signs of life within his immediate vicinity- it wasn't great. There was nothing, or nothing he could detect with all the mist around them. It was like trying to find an ice cube in a blizzard, his senses were buffeted from all directions by the overwhelming sense of mist, and it would take some miracle for him to be able to detect anything within-

"I got something." Galahad said aloud into the Aegis, the surprise barely hidden in his voice. In the blazing miasma of the mist, Galahad had found a mist signature- a strong one. Not unlike that of a WARDEN. If Asa had found Zimmy, chances were there were other WARDENS out here too- maybe this was one of them? Opening his eyes, Galahad turned to the direction of the mist signature he had detected. in the middle of the wreckage, surrounded on three sides by the bent steel of ship superstructure looked like a life-pod.

"Found a life pod or an escape shuttle. One big mist signature inside. Get here fast, let's rally up and check it out together."

Galahad wandered alone a bit further into the crater, looking for a relatively open spot clear of wreckage and mist spots for the rest of the squad to spot him. While he was used to being alone, standing amidst the rubble and the sound of crackling fire put him on edge. Something wasn't right- sure Rassvett and Vangar were enemies, but not even the most vindictive artilleryman would fire on a diplomatic ship, at least not before a more responsible captain would stop him. Even if they had decided to fire on a diplomatic vessel, they would've tried to force it to land or board it- not bring it down in a fiery explosion less than a few clicks away from Rassvett civilians.

The sound of crunching metal brought Galahad back to reality and he sprung back, blade materializing out of the mist instinctively as a huge metal hunk of something fell out of a large pile of wreckage. Stepping forward, Galahad saw what looked like the beaten and battered remains of some strange bipedal robot. A large, hulking 8 foot tall machine forged of some sort of dark blue metal alloy, its head set deep between its shoulders and layers of heavy armor, and a cannon the size of a 40mm grenade launcher attached to its arm. Was it one of the Vangar's new toys? They loved their powered armor- but this machine had sustained large amounts of damage. Across its torso were impact marks, scorches and dents from bullets, blades and spells scoring or ricocheting across its armor. Its left arm was missing and in its place was a tangle of wires and cords in patterns that didn't match typical Vangar synthetic muscle and stuck between its shoulder plates was what looked like the blade of a Vangar power-lance.

"What the hell...?" Galahad murmured as he pulled out his phone and snapped a picture of the strange machine.

---

---

“We land on the grounds of the royal place per our request beyond the reach of the public, from our landing point it's about twenty paces to the door.” Captain Rekks went over the plans yet another time. Only thirty five years of age, he looked at least ten years older from the stress. The only son of a minor noble in the inner territories who joined the military to go make a name for himself. Serving with distinction he was transferred to the Imperial Royal Guard and become captain three years earlier.

“Captain. No offense but is this really all necessary?” Colette questioned after holding her tongue for the last hour or so of the security briefing.

“Necessary? Of course it is! The Imperial Majesty entrusts me with your continued safety and we are going into heart of enemy territory here.” The captain insisted.

“Yes and my father is a very smart man for that,” Colette started, “but this isn’t a military operation captain. We are an envoy of peace are we not?”

"How will I convince an entire nation that peace is opportune if I can’t even convince my own soldiers?" Colette questioned aloud as the disbelief began to form over the Rekks features. He attempted to speak mouth forming words but without sound. Finally he seemed satisfied and swallowed a handful of air before he spoke.

“With all do respect my lady. These people are savages and brigands. I wouldn't even blink an eye if they decided to try and attack us. Peace will only come once we crush them beneath our heels.” he asserted. Colette opened her mouth to respond but the sound of instruments and navigation equipment blaring filled the the bridge of the Palatine.

“Captain you should see this.” A slightly panicked voice of the navigation officer called out.

Rekks give Colette a curt bow before turning around and walking quickly towards the navigation officers post. She was working at a tense and deliberate speed cycling through different commands and panels on her console. She gestured at the display ahead of her. A map displaying the Mist currents in the air, vital as to not disturb the reactor which powers the great airship. “Look.”

Colette remained where the captain had left her but shifted to the side to peer at the console. A large concentration of Mist colored an angry red upon the map moving straight towards them. A Mist storm. Mist storms were not an unheard occurrence the large deposits of arcane energy sometimes gathered into powerful destructive vacuums of energy that could alter the very fabric of reality around them. Though this was odd, such storms usually occurred in the wilds and untamed lands far beyond the reaches of civilization where such mist levels could be reached.

“Brace for impact!” Rekks shouted over the roar of the instruments as Colette turned her head toward the viewports gripping the table ahead of her. Per the nature of the Mist such storms were nearly invisible unless you knew what to look for. Colette in her extensive studies had learned some of the signs. She watched closely as the sky outside the viewpoint began to shimmer ever so slightly like a pebble had just been dropped into a lake. The shimmer grew in intensity faster and harder until the entire outside world became unrecognizable blur. The ship rumbled and shook and then it all stopped. The ship made it through the ‘otherside’.

The fading sunset cast sky had been replaced with a shining sea of stars. The land below looked completely different even as the bridge crew frantically tried to regain control of the situation. "Were We teleported?" Colette wondered though her thoughts were cut short and color drained from her face.

“Captain...” She voiced.

“I see it.”

A large military like vessel hovered in front of them. Dark as the sky around them the entire vessel seemed to shimmer in and out of view as if the light was bending around it. Plated with deep blue armor and bristling with weapons like a porcupine, it wasn’t nearly as large as the Palatine but unlike the diplomatic cruiser this ship was obviously meant for battle.

“Is it from Rassvet?” Rekks called aloud, clutching at the gunblade at his hilt as if it would do something.

“Not that we know of sir.”

“What in the spirit's name is going on.”

Almost as if it was answering his question, the mysterious ship began to open fire on the Palatine. A sea of fire was released from the ship as heavy cannons tore into the Palatine. Warning sirens began to blare as multiple consoles on the bridge began to glow red. Colette almost fell to the ground from the force of the impact if it were not for Albriech next to her who gently held her up. She looked towards him, his face stern even as his eyes casted his unease plain and clear.

“Get the princess to the escape craft now!” Rekks yelled towards Albriech who nodded, already dragging Colette by the hand out of the bridge most of the security team following them. Personally rushed frantically around them as they moved towards their battle stations. All the while the mysterious ship continued its bombardment.

As the made there way down a hallway the outer wall exploded. Albriech threw his hand up reflexively a barrier appearing and halting the shrapnel in mid-air. The cold wind whipped into the ship along with smell of smoke. Something came flying through the now opened access point. Smashing into the wall. Everyone froze as it slowly began to untangle itself and pull its way off of the wall. Standing so tall it brushed against the ceiling as its eyes glowed to life- four icey blue lights in a crab like head deep within its torso. One of the large arms raising its arm mounted cannon.

The royal guards rushed past them to engage the new foe. Without thinking Albriech pulled her down a connecting side passageway as behind them was a short mechanical whine, followed by a blast and screams. A voice came over the intercom speaker distorted more static than anything else. “I-rud-rs h-ve boarded - ship. Rep-t intruders -ve b-ded the ship.”

The wall to the left of them exploded as one of the robots was thrown through- it a giant spike of ice protruding from his chest as it crashed into the far wall. Out from the hole that was punched through the door one of the Imperial mages stepped outwards, staff still glowing. A cadre of soldiers pouring outward around her. She looked at Albriech and nodded.

“Do you know what’s happening sir?” the mage asked.

“Not the faintest idea.” It was at this point that the robot eyes began to glow again and with surprisingly quick speed it grabbed the soldier closest to it and easily crushed him in its hands as it rose upward.

“Run!” The mage commanded as she turned away from the pair muttered underneath her breath as her staff began to glow once more.

Albriech and Colette made there way through the ship with speed avoiding contact with the many assailants continually being launched into the ship. They made their way down to the shuttle bay. Off from the main hangar it was used primarily in situations such as these to allow for VIPs and others to be able to escape if the Palatine was ever compromised- not that the engineers ever imagined such a day would come. As they made their way across the catwalk connecting to the shuttle the ceiling above them buckled and burst open and two of the robots landed in front of them.

“Stand back.” Albriech command as he drew his blade from its sheath.

“I can fight.” Protested Colette but he just shook his head slowly never losing eye contact with the machines. Body in a easy defense stance he watched and waited.

One of the machines raised its arm- cannon cannon crackling with blue energy and fired. Albriech flicked his hands creating the same barrier that he had made before catching the blue bolt in midair. Rather than letting them drop as he had earlier with a simple flick of his hands they shot back at the robot at twice the velocity slamming hard into its shoulder. The bolt hit the robot with enough force to tear off its arm and send the robot careening off the edge and tumbling through the open sky below.

The other moved quickly rushing forward Albriech dodged out of the way as the fist punching through the flimsy catwalk, with still enough force to throw Albriech from his feet. He looked up at the robot that towered over him and began to mutter a spell as it raised its fist to crush him. Yet before the spell could be released an arrow slammed into the the glowing eyes of the robot and upon impact released a brilliant blast of light knocked the machine off its feet. Seizing the opportunity Albriech rose and with a flick of his hands used a blast of mist to send it flying off the catwalk.

He looked towards Colette the bow that she had materialized in her hand already vanishing into dust. She gave him a small grin. “If you didn’t want me to fight. You shouldn't of taught me.”

Despite the situation Albriech chuckled. “Get in.”

Colette made her way around the whole in the catwalk and into the shuttle where she began the startup sequence. As Albriech turned to follow her the floor rumbled again as several more robots punched through the outer hull of the ship, throwing them all to the ground.

“Albriech?” was all Collette managed before Albriech slammed a button on the console with the mist, sealing Collette in the darkness as the shuttle's blast doors closed, struggling to his feet with his weapon drawn.

"Albriech!"