[IC] The Restless Fires [Closed]

[Darkspleen]

Five Hundred Years Ago

Satrea, Ethean Empire

The woman let out a long sigh as her eyes wandered lazily over the mural on the far wall depicting Magalis graciously changing her people from mere humans into what they now were. She knew she was making progress, but at times, such as currently, she felt like she would be more successful in scooping water out of a sinking ship with her bare hands. Even so she wouldn’t, couldn’t, give up so long as she drew breath. To give up, to fail, would be the death of her people and she would not be the one to doom them.

The sound of a door opening drew her gaze away from the mural. How odd. She had made it clear that she was not to be disturbed. The woman sat up slightly straighter in her seat, assuming a more regal appearance as she looked towards the door and the individual who slipped through it, almost like a shadow. Her eyes narrowed slightly as she caught sight of the individual’s outfit. So this would be the moment that the fate of many would be determined.

“I have been expecting you for some time” The woman said, doing her best to keep her voice steady. “I have longed to speak to you.”

“Hmph. I’m sure you have.” It was unclear whether the gruff voice was responding to a particular statement or both. “But you will find your honeyed words will fall on deaf ears this time, temptress.” The man placed a hand on the hilt of his sword as he approached. His clothes, fashioned from the pelt of a great bear, gave him the appearance of some primordial god.

“Surely you could spare a moment to speak with me Kendrick” The woman said. The man, Kendrick, seemed to hesitate as he approached the woman.

“Very well Empress Euphemia” He said as he came to a stop a few strides away from where she sat on her throne. “I shall bear witness to your final words.”

“I seek peace” The empress said after a moment. “There need be no more bloodshed.”

“You tempt us to put down our arms,” Kendrick looked at the empress with wary eyes, “so that you can enslave us once more. You may fool some of my brothers, but I see you for what you are temptress.”

“My people have wronged yours, this I do not deny. You are angry and rightfully so, but do you really want our peoples to continue down their current path.” The empress paused. Even a blind man could see the anger in Kendrick’s eyes, but there was a hint of hesitation in them. “What occurs right here and now will have resounding consequences for a millennium. Our children and grandchildren and our grandchildrens’ grandchildren will have to bear with these consequences. Would it not be better that we give them the gift of peace instead of the curse of war?” The empress slowly rose from her throne. “You and I together can bring this conflict to an end.” She took a step towards Kendrick, reaching out to him. “Will you help me?” Kendrick eyed the empress in silence. For a moment she allowed herself to believe that her words might reach him.

“No” He replied at last. “I cannot risk trusting you for you are the lord of demons.” The empress allowed her arm to drop to her side, feeling as if someone had punched her in the gut.

“Why have you come to this place, alone, if not to seek peace.”

“Peace will be had, once you are gone.” Kendrick’s reply caused the empress to raise an eyebrow.

“Ending wars is the job of armies and diplomats.” The empress commented. “The one who ends the life of the enemy’s leader is little more than an assassin.”

“Be that as it may” Kendrick slowly drew his sword “I shall be heralded as the hero who brought an end to the demon king, thus saving my people.”

“Queen” The empress stated.

“Excuse me?” The tip of Kendrick’s sword wavered for a moment.

“I’m a woman, therefore a queen, not a king.” After a moment the empress assed “If anything I would be the Demon Empress.”

“Ah, but it doesn’t roll off the tongue quite as nicely as Demon Queen.” Kendrick stated.

“I suppose not.” The empress said with a sigh. “You do realize my Praetorian will not allow you to leave here alive, right?” The empress asked. She would not give this “hero” the satisfaction of seeing her shake in fear.”

“For some reason I knew you’d say that” Kendrick said as he approached the “demon queen.”

At the southern border of the Ascainian Empire

The Wanderer had traveled a long and hard journey. The journey had led the Wanderer over hills and plains. Terrible thunderstorms had been weathered with little more than blankets for cover. Wolves and large felines had been an ever present threat. And throughout the whole journey the only companion the Wanderer could rely on for protection was a dog.

From a distance the Wanderer looked like any resident of Ascain. A brown cloak certainly hinted towards being a local, but a closer inspection would reveal the cloak to be of much higher quality than one would expect. The cloak itself also made it difficult to distinguish exactly how large the Wanderer actually was.

“Soon we can rest” an impossibly small voice drifted from under the cloak’s hood. “We just have to go a bit further.” The Wanderer looked down at the dog and patted it on the head with a gloved hand. The dog, a breed of mastiff, looked like it was little more than a ball of fluff. A ball of fluff with teeth. A ball of fluff that wouldn’t hesitate to attack anything that threatened its master, whether that threat be a human, wolf, or tiger.

“Shall we look for a place to ford this river?” The Wanderer observed the massive river that marked the southern border of Ascain for a moment before walking along its bank towards the west. West was where the Wanderer would hopefully find the help the Ethean Empire so desperately needed.

[Goldeagle1221]

At the southern border of the Ascainian Empire

The Wanderer had set up camp for the night. A small fire had been lit, over which the Wanderer was cooking the spoils of a short hunting trip. Occasionally the Wanderer would tear off a piece of meat and hold it out for his dog. The massive mastiff, with a degree of care at odds with his size, took the meat from the Wanderer’s hand. Despite the apparent relaxation of the Wanderer, he and his canine companion were quite alert and aware of their surroundings.
.
From the babble of small streams viening the woodland floor, to the crackling leaves under animal foot, everything was heard by the pair. Their noses caught the floral smell of the forest, and their eyes were not fooled by it’s dim nighttime camouflage. The two ate confidently, secure in their ability to remain unsurprised, and unbothered.

A breeze carrying the cool night air slithered through the trees, its hiss upsetting the calmness of the scene. The Mastiffs nose twitched, and he turned his wrinkled face into the winds path, soaking in the new scent. The dog stood, body pointing but unsure at what. The Wanderer’s hand slowly came to rest on the hilt of his falcata as he looked in the direction that had caught his companion’s attention.

From the shadows of the trees a figure slowly emerged, it’s foot falls silent, and it’s flowing dark robes ghostly and unsettling. The pale moonlight that settled between the two groups illuminated the outlines of the form and speckled it with the shadows of the canopy, only adding to the uncomfortable appearance.

From the folds of the loose fabric a hand emerged, palm outstretched as it to receive a beggar’s coin.

“Be calm,” said a light voice not unlike the sound of the ruffling leaves in a quiet night wind. A familiar scent tickled the nose of the wanderer, and a warm sense of safety hugged him. The words were simple, foreign, yet spoke a thousand emotions, as if remembering a long lost friendship by glancing at one sweet and well hidden memory.

The Wanderer seemed to contemplate the request, or perhaps order, for a moment. It seemed as if he might pull away from his blade, but instead his fingers slowly wrapped around the hilt. His hood shifted as he looked around at the forest before him.

“Who is out there?” A feminine voice drifted out from under the Wanderer’s hood. The voice seemed odd, as if belonging to a person that was far smaller than the Wanderer. There was a rustling under the Wanderer’s hood as a tiny figure crawled out. The figure, a faery, stretched as she exited the hood, before hopping off to take flight. She looked around for a moment before landing on the Wanderer’s shoulder. She cocked her head to the side before asking “Are you going to show yourself?”

“But I am here,” the ghost replied, suddenly opposite of the fire, the orange licks of flame bouncing off the robed figure, giving it a hellish image, despite it’s heavenly voice. Around its neck stared a large gem embedded into a pendant, it’s own reddish hue fitting to the image.

“As a friend,” more words of honey leaked from the figure, “a friend in need of help.”

The Wanderer seemed to contemplate the ghost’s words for a moment before giving a silent nod of his head. The faery on his shoulder simply asked “How can we help?”

“I need your names,” the ghost replied cryptically, “but do not speak them aloud.”

The figures hand disappeared under the robes, only to reemerge holding a slip of paper. The ghosts arm outstretched to offer the slip, the marks of stitches running up the exposed arm as the robes fell to its side.

“Grab a charcoal from the fire, I need to know who I am speaking with,” a sense of urgency dripped into the breezy words.

The faery fluttered off of the Wanderer’s shoulder and flew towards the ghost. She raised an eyebrow as she stated “That’s an oddly specific request.”

“The Volcano does not wait,” The ghost shook the paper with an increasing urgency, “we can not idle, please… please.”

The voice grew soft, “I am in need of help, please.”

“I-” The faery’s train of thought was interrupted as the Wanderer suddenly grabbed a piece of charcoal from the edge of the fire, seeming oblivious to the heat of the flames. He rose to his feet, walked over to the ghost, and took the paper. Without uttering a word he wrote two names on the paper, before holding it out for the ghost to take.

Shaking fingers wrapped around the paper and pulled it away from the wanderer. A dull sound gurgled from the hidden face of the ghost, almost as if it was sobbing.

“It is you,” the voice trailed, its crisp sound replaced with one of beaten excitement hidden under a mountain of anxiety and dread.

The ghost’s pale finger pointed towards the pendant hanging from its neck, tapping it as it spoke, “do you know this? Do you know?” The gem twirled as it was tapped, its flawless cut reflecting every edge of the flame and moon overhead.

The Wanderer’s hood shifted as he shook his head slowly. The faery was now flying next to his head, a look of awe on her face as she stared at the gem. “What is it?” She asked softly.
“It’s his eye,” the ghost muttered, “ the eye of the volcano.” The pale hand grasped it tight, hand covering the face of the gem, webs of scars running along the back of the hand.

“Do not look directly into its face,” the ghost warned.

“Do you know what the eye means?”

“Of course!” The faery proclaimed as the Wanderer nodded. “Everyone in Eth- Err… back home knows what the Eye is.” She suddenly looked nervous as the Wanderer momentarily shifted his gaze to her.’

“Then, then you know what I am, who I am?” The voice sounded hopeful, it’s crisp tune returning to the syllables.

“Magalis’ champion” The faery response was equal parts answer and question. The Wanderer shook his head quickly, seeming to lose some of the calm he had retained up to this point. The faery raised an eyebrow as she looked at her companion. “What else could she be if she has the Eye?” The faery asked. Her only response was a small shrug.

“Yes!” The voice exclaimed, “that is exactly who I am.” The ghosts hand fell from the pendant, only to be enveloped back into the flowing robes.

“I am in need of help,” the ghost continued, “will you help me?”

The Wanderer had been shaking his head for some time now, a gesture more of denial than anything else. “Don’t be ridiculous” The faery said. “You know that this is the champion of Magalis, even if she isn’t an Eth-” The faery let out a nervous cough to cover up her mistake. “One of your people.” The Wanderer let out a soft sigh before nodding his head. The faery nodded her own head before turning her attention back to the ghost. “So what does the champion of Magalis need with us two?”

“I will reveal this to you, piece by piece,” the ghost offered, “but know this, I will warn you once… that once you begin this quest with me, you will never be the same as you once were, and peace may escape you until death. I have sought out you, because I think you are the one who can help with my task, but I need to be sure, and so do you. Can you handle the stakes of unknowing? If not, then let me know now, before I reveal myself to you.”

The Wanderer hesitated for just a moment before giving a slow nod. His faery companion mirrored his nod with one of her own as she seated herself on his shoulder. “I’m honored that the champion of Magalis would personally seek me out.” The faery commented.

“No,” the voice seemed sad, raising a pale finger to point at the wanderer, “you, I need to hear you say it, I warn you this is a terrible quest, but a necessary one.”
The Wanderer gave another nod before reaching up and pulling back his hood. It became instantly apparent that “he” was actually a “she”. Long raven colored hair and a comely face were secondary traits when compared to the two ram-like horns that adorned her head, signifying her heredity for all the world.

“I am obligated to aid you, champion” The Wanderer stated.

“Good,” the ghost answered, almost unsure. Reaching up to its own hood, two hands of chalk gripped the hem. “Draw your sword,” the ghost ordered, “for once my face is revealed, our quest will begin.”

“Acis” The Wanderer said, her dog taking a more alert stance. She stared at the dog for a moment before drawing her falcata from its sheath, revealing the runes that had been etched into the side of its blade. After a moment she gave the ghost a curt nod, signifying her ready state.

The ghosts fingers pressed, and the hood fell to the robed figures shoulders. The ghost was no more, as a very real face stared back at the wanderer. High cheekbones carved with endless scars, geometric and artificial in placement, sat on either side of two bloodshot eyes, with a sickly red iris at the center. Lips cracked, and face worn, the ghost was revealed a woman of unknown origin, skin a strange lethargic pale, and hair a dusty grey. It wasn’t clear if she was old or young, as her endless scars obscured any quality of her skin, and only gave her the image of a person put together piece by piece in a seamstress’s basement.

The view was shortlived, as almost immediately as her crimson eyes met the wanderer’s, the biting head of an arrow slammed itself into the champion’s shoulder from behind, the iron tip poking through her robes.

The champion spun as shadows began to pour from the trees, whooping and brandishing sickly weapons of twisted metal. The shadows were illuminated by what light the moon offered through the trees. They were ugly, and hairy. Their eyes were wide and unblinking, and their bodies were similar to that of an old man, only really small, and eerily muscular underneath a scraggly patch of white hairs. The Wanderer recognized them from the legends almost immediately, servants of the volcano, the Bannik.

“It’s a test,” the Champion yelled, seemingly unaware of the trickle of red exiting her shoulder, “just kill them all!”

With a flick of her wrist, a long metal chain fell from her robes, it’s spiked length unrolling into a whip for her to wield, a weighed and spiked ball at the very end. As the ball hit the ground, a great glowing fire spit from the impact and engulfed the entire whip in a threatening blaze. At the sight, the Bannik charged, curled swords overhead, and hatred in their eyes.

The Wanderer’s left arm flicked forwards twice moments before a pair of Bannik fell to the ground, grasping at the knives that had suddenly been lodged into their throats. The Wanderer was already charging the remaining Bannik, her canine companion, Acis, at her side. Acis charged ahead, a ball of teeth and fluff that bowled into one of the Bannik, tearing its throat out. The Wanderer reached her target a moment later, her falcata lashing out to behead one Bannik before she twirled around to slash at a second.

The Champion followed suit, spinning in a wide circle as her enflamed weapon snaked through the crowd, crippling and smashing everything in it’s wake. The bannik seemed furious, as the last to the scene seemed to stay at the edge of the impromptu battlefield. Noticing this, the Champion flicked her wrist, and sending her weapon outwards, it;s metallic coil wrapping around one of the spectators, and with a yank, breaking its bones and sending it into the fray.

The more Bannik that fell, the more worried the Champion looked, and the slower she attacked, as if hesitating.

The Wanderer was a flurry of motion. Ducking under Bannik slashes even as she spun to lash out at a foe trying to sneak behind her. She suddenly straighten, a throwing knife appear in her hand as if by magic. She hurled the dagger at one of the Bannik watching from a safe distance before dancing back and away from a slash meant to decapitate her. She then stepped forward, her left palm smashing into the Bannik’s face. The creature stumbled back, reaching for its broken nose. It didn’t even see the Wanderer’s falcata as the Ethean blade descended towards it.

There was a flash of light, the entire Forest disappeared behind the veil of white, but just as quickly as the fighter’s eyes pinked with the negative, the light was gone. A hairy hand shot up and with amazing force caught the wrist of the Wanderer, forcing the blade to stop. A smiling face, smashed with a bloody nose stared up at the wanderer, and a soothing voice spewed from its thick lips, “tell me your name.”

“No!” the Champion yelled out, her massive chain darting towards the Bannik, but just as quickly the Banniks other hand caught the whip, the fire crawling up the arm of the creature. With a powerful jerk, the Bannik pulled on the whip, sending the Champion flying forward, only to be stopped by a stiff headbutt from the creature, his thick skull dragging down the woman’s face.

There was another blinding flash, and as the negative faded, the fallen Bannik stood beside the one who had the two fighters captured, wounds gaping, but unnoticed.

“Your name, tell me it” The Bannik barked.

“Do not,” the Champion struggled to say, her face a red blot of blood.

The Wanderer’s only response was a soft grunt as her left hand streaked towards the Bannik’s neck, a knife in hand.

The Bannik roared in laughter as the blade snapped against his skin, the forged metal tinkering to the forest floor. Soon the other Bannik joined in, some rolling on the floor, holding their sides.

The Champion reached into her robe, her eyes wide in terror and awareness as she snuck her fingers around a small glossy black rock in her pocket. Slipping it from it’s resting place she shoved it infront of the Bannik’s face, ancient runes littering the small golf sized ball of volcanic stone.

“There are no names here!” The Champion challenged.

The Bannik’s laughter turned into a growl as he recognized the relic, his hands let go of the fighters weapons, balling into fists, “so be it.”

Quickly the Champion managed to preemptively duck under a lightening quick swing from the hairy beast, a blow that would have certainly ended her as the shockwave of the speed let loose a sonic boom. Her amulet twinkled as she did, and with inhuman speed she made her way over the encroaching sea of Bannik to the Wanderer.

“Retreat,” was her only words as she pulled her hood up over her bloody face, tagging the Wanderer to follow before letting loose a powerful sprint.

“Acis!” The Wanderer barked as she followed the Champion. Her faithful canine companion already following on her heels. The Wanderer said nothing as she followed the Champion despite the plethora of questions she had. Behind them it was uncertain if the horde of bannik were following or not, but the echoing roars of them proved a viable warning not to look back.

One after the other, the new pair’s feet pounded against the forest floor. The Champion silent behind her breaths, and her foot falls quiet. The crisp night air slowly started to smell of dawn as they ran. Tree’s flew by them, and the various greens painted a scene around them, while the fallen branches created a song to run to under their footsteps. Birds chirped but at the speed of the runners, only alien slurs were heard. The black sky slowly grew purple, and the moon waned to let the sun peek over the horizon. The trees waved in the wind, and let the spears of dawn’s gold spill through the emerald canopies, and before long, it was day.

[Slamurai]

Titum, Southern Cimbria

Beads of sweat had formed on Calren's face, soaking his pillow as he twisted and turned. Beneath their lids, his eyes danced, trying to make sense of what they could not see. His breaths came uneven, jittery, and he clawed at his sheets, unconciously flinging them from the bed.

He was falling. As if from a great height, Calren saw the sky, smouldering with towers of black smoke. Below, a red-orange glow that burned at his vision. It should have been agonizing, yet there was no pain. Just a warm embrace as he sunk into the pool, like the arms of a lover.

Down he went, his eyes blurred by the liquid glow. He couldn't breathe, but his lungs didn't grow restless, and his mind grew ever calm. Calren didn't feel the need to do anything, he felt liberated.

The magma gurgled, and he felt the muscles around he ears strain to catch the origin of the disturbence. There was another gurgle, an bubbles rose. Soon more bubbles formed, each sound causing Calren's ears to strain, until he heard words behind each gurgle and pop.

"Listen." the bodiless sound commanded.

The words knocked Calren out of his stupor, and he opened his eyes, turning about to locate the source of their speaker. There was no one, just a hazy, orange void that permeated every fiber of his body. He waved his arms through the void feeling the viscous substance flow over his skin, as if he was swimming in a container of honey.

"Who- who's there?" he stammered, words a barely-audible whisper.

The liquid belched, "You know me." a stream of bubbles flew over Calren, bursting against him, "But what is your name?"

The myrr recoiled as the magma sent him drifting backwards, and he kicked through the muck to remain upright. As far as he could tell, however, there was no up nor down in this place.

"My name. My name is Calren Huss," he replied, with less timidity than before. The magma was starting to feel less alien, less claustrophobic. Instead, he could swear he was starting to feel empowered.

The magma seemed to spin him slowly, as if sizing him up. More bubbles broke, "Yes, Calren Huss."

There was a pause, and then the magma erupted with a sea of bubbles, the popping sending the alien voice in all directions, "Calren Huss, I find you a worthy being. I have a task for you, just for you."

The voice was assertive, heavy, but never bordered on intimidating. Where he first felt shock, Calren found a kind of solace in the mouthless speech. His body ceased squirming, and he floated comfortably in the mire.

"I- I understand. What would you ask of me?" He was not himself certain why his own reply was so agreeable, so eager to serve. But it felt right.

"I wish for you to fetch my eye, as it has fallen into the hands of a criminal," the bubbles popped against his ears, almost as if attempting to lean in and emphasize the importance.

When the voice answered, Calren's eyes closed again. He saw a form, a humanoid. Its skin was adorned in impossibly precise patterns of scar tissue, and two smoldering, red eyes burned beneath its hood. Then, the vision imploded on itself, transforming into a spherical object. Its surface was dark, like clotted blood, but as it caught the light, it shone so violently that Calren held up his hands to his face. He sensed the image had passed, and untensed. As his eyes opened, he found himself floating above a forest, bubbles floating around him. As if he had been here before, he already knew exactly where he was, and looking down he saw the hooded figure running, the eye swinging around her neck.

"You know your task and what you seek," the bubbles gurgled as the scene tinted orange the feel of the magma returned, "Go forth!"

Before Calren could speak another word, he felt his body being launched upwards, headfirst. Bubbles stormed around him, and for a moment, he felt panic. He wanted to stay, to bathe in the comfort of the mire for the rest of his years. But his body did not stop, and as he felt the void grow thinner, he thrashed and kicked, trying to let out a cry, but the stuff flooded his lungs and he could not speak. Then, he broke the surface and gave a wanton gasp for air.

He awoke. His knuckles were white, fingers clutching his bedsheets so tightly, his nails dug into his palms. Calren heaved, slowly acclimating himself back to reality, to his room. The moon was retreating from his window, and he could hear the morning birds begin their song. Then, he remembered what he had seen, and threw himself from the bed with newfound determination.

[Monkeypants]

Antioch

Nilus, Former Capital of Ithnil.

Near the southern most wall, a cottage stood silently against the night. It's straw roof faintly illuminated by the moons light that was obscured by grey clouds. The front door of this tiny abode slowly opened to reveal a hastily dressed figure, quickly escaping the structure. The door had been left open in the figures haste as it swiftly made its way off the property. Almost as if hit by an unseen wall, the figure turned and rushed back towards the building with balled fists. Cursing softly as it disappeared inside the cottage.

A few moments later, the figure emerged again, calm this time and slowly shutting the door. The figure began meddling with the doors dead bolt when a gust of wind washed over it. Above, lightning began skirting the clouds. Haste returned to the figure as it gave up on the door. Bright flashes of light revealed a second shadowing figure, more predatory in posture, slowly tailing the hasty figure. 

Upon reaching a solitary road, crowded by tall buildings not even ten paces apart, the figure stopped and turned. In front was the predatory figure, stopped nearly twenty paces away. The two stood facing each other for a few moments before one spoke broke the silence. A smooth, feminine voice sounded down the road, "They say at night, you can still hear their screams. The screams of the fallen in that fire years ago that left blackened rocks to this very day."

The other figure slowly started walking towards the predator, heavy in steps and seemingly gripping a metal hilt with its left hand. The predator made no motion to defend itself but merely stood there, quietly. Over head, lighting shot fourth once more, rattling windows with loud thunder. Various lamps lit in the windows, visible shadows reaching to close shutters before the lamps light fading away. The figure, still heavy with its foot steps, spoke out in a gravely, deep feminine tone. "You're playing a dangerous game."

"Why?" The shadowy predator replied, seemingly amused.

As the figure opened her mouth to speak again, a rush of wind blew the hood off of the predator, revealing long black hair and a sadistic smirk. "Avery!" the figure shouted before dropping the metal object, revealed to be a change purse of sorts. There was a momentary pause before the figure rushed off, disappearing into the night. Avery slowly walked to the purse and knelt down. Her head cocked as she examined the purse. On its side was a faint symbol of her own faith, Ilinucism, etched onto the side. Avery head footsteps ahead and quickly snatched the purse.

"I swear! I swear I was attacked!", Avery heard in the distance. "Bitch." Avery muttered as she hid behind a wall. Faint orange lights began illuminating the area as Avery slowly leaned her head over, being careful not to be seen. Four guards stood around the other woman, listening to her story which began growing wildly out of proportion. "There had to have been seven at least! and and." She was silenced by a tall male guard, who had pressed his index finger on her lips. "Go home." he said before turning around, staring directly at Avery.

Her eyes widened in fear and turned away, only to see the hilt of a sword approaching her face. 

Hours passed before her eyes opened again. She could hear heavy rain outside and still thunder crashed, rattling the glass that let morning light into the room. "Where." Avery said, still hazy from the guards blow. 

A old man in long black robes entered her vision, "Ah, you're awake!" He smiled with an upbeat tone, "I am curious as to why you were out so late?" He continued, gripping something in his hand.

"I couldn't sleep, I figured-" Avery said, clearly lying but was cut off.

"You do realize relations between two females is blasphemous, right?" He said in that upbeat tone.

"What?" Avery said, "A girl can't even go for a walk?" 

The man shook his head, "Lets say you aren't guilty of that. Care to admit to anything else?"

"Admit to what." Avery said plainly. Her vision had returned to normal and she gazed about the room, seeing a draped flag with the symbol of the Inquisition proudly stitched in. She began breathing heavily and her heart began to race before she caught sight of that purse. "I swear it isn't mine."

"Of course it isn't. You found it. Right?" He replied.

Avery lowered her head, knowing he wouldn't accept any story she told him, true or false. The Man smiled and turned towards the door. "Bring them in.". The door opened revealing a man and woman, held in ropes and chains, forced in by two armed guards. Avery stared, shocked at the sight as he sat the two in front of her. "You know these two. Yes?" he said calmly. "Yes, My brother and sister."

The man circled the man and woman slowly before walking towards Avery, "I read that your parents were war criminals. Using dark powers against the crusades. I had hoped that orphans would have learned from examples like theirs and stop. Stop using blasphemous 'magic' and embrace truth."

"What is truth though! My truth is your lie!" the brother said defiantly. 

"No, Your 'god' is created by your lust of magic, your 'god' is a perverse excuse to justify abusing the world around you." He spat in the brothers face and dropped the upbeat tone. "You and your Ilinucist friends are the darkest example of twisted and lost humanity."

The sister spoke up, "Twisted and lost? My people did nothing to you!" 

"Oh didn't they? was it not your kind that persecuted Eleutherans during the Yusamir incident?" He replied with clear arrogance in his eyes. 

"What is Yusamir?" She replied, honestly confused. 

The Inquisitor frowned, "All you people do is deny. Deny deny deny." He walked out of Avery's view. She struggled to see what he was doing but all she heard was the rustling of wooden drawers. "Oh where is it." he said. "Ah!" he proclaimed before stepping back into her view. Upon his hand was a gauntlet with clawed fingertips. He placed his hand upon the Sister's right shoulder. "I'll give you this chance. Pray to the true god."

Her voice swelled with pride, "Aketa, Mother of us-"

The man wasn't pleased and dug his fingers into her shoulder. Her sleeve began to turn red as he dug his fingers in deeper. "Last opportunity. Pray to God."

She laughed, "I just did."

Avery violently tried to escape her shackles as the Inquisitor placed his hands around her sisters neck. There was a final gasp for air as his hand squeezed. Blood began escaping through the punctures, as well as a whistling sound as her body began convulsing. He stood there, just watching with no expression as her sisters head finally slumped over. The Inquisitor didn't bother asking him questions, but rather grasped his neck and after a moment, walked away from his now dead body. "They were caught actively practicing fiendish rituals." His words were light, almost as if he were explaining his actions to a friend.

"How could you." Avery said, trying to see the Inquisitor through heavy tears. "People just want to survive." She said, now staring at the growing pool of blood beneath her sister's feet. The inquisitor placed his hands behind his back and paced a few times before turning to her. "I'm giving you a warning. Do not follow your family's example. Keep praying to the proper god and report those who betray." He turned away from her, motioning for two men to come in.

After being untied and escorted out of the room, Avery noticed the woman who had dropped her purse earlier in another room. "I swear it wasn't mine!" she shouted at another Inquisitor who rose his hand as if to strike her, but Avery lost view.

Later that week, 

Avery sat alone in the corner of a tavern. It was dusk and the sound of the days stories had filled the place. A central fire kept a pigs body warm as it rotated on a spit. The sound of laughter used to bring Avery some sense of joy in their oppressed nation but now, now all she could do was clinch her hair and stare blankly at her table. Until a young male approached.

"M'lady, May I have this dance?" he said.

Avery just turned to him with a disappointed look, "There's not even music playing. Idiot."

"Perhaps I desired to dance discreetly in a rented room." he replied with a toothy grin.

"Go away." Avery replied simply. She watched as he rose up and turned around, facing a group of men who seemed to have put him up to this. He then turned back towards her and reached for her chest. Avery shot fourth like lightning, griping his arm with her left hand and bending it downward, straining the forearm. She then gripped his genitals in her right hand. "If you so much as breathe in a way I do not like, I will break it off."

The young man cried in pain but did his best to obey Avery's demand. "Ok ok ok." he said, wincing in pain. She stared into his eyes for a moment before letting go. 

Weeks later,

"I wonder if they will have the bread burnt again." Avery thought as she entered the tavern. All around were men and women, laughing and drinking. It was another day, just like the day before, and the day before. 

As she took her seat, a young voluptuous bar maid walked up, "You're new around here, aren't you." Avery asked. 

"Why yes I am." The maid replied. She then placed a paper on the table in front of Avery. "Kingsland Ale is still only two Cidi."

Avery smiled, "Hmm.. sounds good, I'll take a pint of Ale. How much for a pint of you?"

The maid blushed and placed her hand over her mouth, "I'm off work in a few hours." she said, surprisingly interested. She giggled and gave Avery her house number before going to retrieve Avery's drink.

Mid day couldn't come soon enough...

Avery made her way down the streets to the maids house and knocked upon the door. "Come in!" the maid yelled. Avery complied quickly, shutting the door gently behind her. 

"Oh Is that my friend from the Tavern I hear? why don't you come out here?" Avery said while slowly loosening her belt. 

"I hope you're ready." The maid said before slowly walking out from a darkened doorway. The maid walked right in front of Avery, proudly flying a 'flag' as proud as one could.

"Nope." Avery said plainly as she hastily walked for the door.

The walk back home was long for Avery, Images of a member. "The thing was looking me in the eyes." she thought. 

The next morning, Avery awoke, ready for another typical day. She prepared a cup of tea and rustled through cupboards for biscuits of any kind. The fruitless search ended with Avery leaning lazily against her kitchens wall, staring out a large window. A strange sight piqued her interest, people running from the tavern. As Avery quickly cleaned and dressed herself, she could hear commotion, "They're coming!" from outside. She ran out of the door to see the unthinkable.

The Inquisition was doing a thorough sweep. Three people were already in chains and two others were summarily executed on the spot. Avery's eyes widened as she saw a familiar face, the man who killed her brother and sister. Their eyes locked for a few seconds before he shouted to guards, pointing directly at Avery. 

She was quick to flee, jumping over obstacles and sprinting as often as her body would allow but it wasn't enough. Everywhere she turned, Crusaders approached and this time, she knew her life would end. "Aketa please grant me the strength." Avery said before reaching high into the air. The ground began to rumble, catching the crusaders off guard. Avery closed her eyes hard as she kept her hands in the air. All around, swirling winds picked up speed, pushing the crusaders back. 

"A petty wind trick! do not let this 'magic' stop you. You have gods divine blessing!" the Inquisitor said, who was now walking towards her. 

The Crusaders began to form up and by twos, used their shields to deflect as much wind as possible. But they didn't know this wasn't a 'wind trick' by any means and when the first Crusader screamed in pain and then the second, it became clear that she was no simple Ilinucist believer.

"Defend yourselves!" the Inquisitor shouted as he saw the lumbering creatures approaching from all directions. Beings made of bone with faint glowing joints. Their bones draped with blackened, rotting skin and eyes burning as the sun. They rushed the Crusaders into close combat. The clang of metal against bone was in favor of the Crusaders at first but the undead were persistent and vicious. They felt no pain and sadly, had no master. Avery found that out the hard way when she shouted to two of the undead to attack the inquisitor. Instead, she yelped as they rushed her instead.

Once again she sprinted towards the front gates, hearing screams in the background from her summoned creatures. Avery hid in the shadows as town guards mobilized and formed up on the corner of the city affected. At first it wasn't a good sign to have that many guards around but after they passed, it was a clear shot out of the gates.

Running from her past did her no good as by some means, the Inquisitor was blocking the main gates with his sword drawn. "I told you to behave." He said angrily. His cheek bleeding from a skeletons scratch. "I don't have time for this." Avery said before clinching her fists. Time was running out for her as in the distance she could hear the sound of battle dying down and soon they guards would be all over her.

"Your god is a terrible figment of your imagination." Avery shouted before making whirling motions with her hands. 

"You think your magic can overwhelm gods will?" he said, pointing his sword at her. 

Avery smiled and thrust her hands forward, spouting forth an array of fire at the Inquisitor. She could hear his screams but it wasn't of pain, "oh no." She said before letting up. He was standing there holding his sword still, which was glowing blue. "A rune blade. Aren't you people against magic!?" she shouted.

He didn't answer but simply rushed her. It wasn't common for Eleutherians to wield magic weapons, or 'blessed' as they called them. But he was an Inquisitor and she shook her head, knowing she should've counted on this. "Damn." she said before diving backwards, right as he swung at her head. 

She flipped backwards once before falling on her behind. He thrust forward, forcing her to roll to the side before jumping to her feet. "Just surrender to his will." The Inquisitor said calmly. She was already panting and he hadn't broke a sweat. 

He rushed again, narrowly missing her throat by inches as she dove to the ground once more. She quickly looked to her left to see a small group of stones, which she quickly grasped. He turned to strike again but was hit firmly in the chest by a stone. "What is this!" he said, looking up at her. She recovered and tossed another at him, which he deflected with the sword. 

"Oh come on!" she shouted before throwing another, which failed to hit him.  Avery stomped her foot, "Come on!" she shouted in anger as in the distance, guards were rushing to help the Inquisitor. Avery snuck a small knife from her belt and began pacing in front of him. 

"You are unarmed, just surrender now." He said confidently, lowering his sword.

Avery's eyes opened wide and she pointed behind him, "Oh no!" prompting him to turn. As he saw nothing, his attention turned back to Avery who was already thrusting towards him with her dagger. With no time to prepare, he watched helplessly as the knife pierced the center of his right hand. capitalizing on her surprise, she ripped the sword from his hands before pushing him to the ground. She snarled at him then started rushing to the door. "I will find you!" he shouted.

"No you wont!" Avery yelled back as she ran for the main gates. It didn't bother her one bit that the gates were still opened and she didn't bother figuring out why. She quickly made her way into the forest before diving behind a bush to catch her breath. "Damn." she said, looking to the gates as Sabretooth riding Order knights exited the main gates, followed by a furious Inquisitor holding what appeared to be a pitchfork.

Avery began running again through the brush, getting cut with sharp branches the entire way through before reaching a ditch with a fast flowing river at its base. She turned around to see the Order knights almost upon her, "no!" she said, drawing the inquisitors sword but quickly lost balance and began falling down the hill. Dirt and leaves rustled into the air as she slid down the hill and into the river, while the Order knights watched silently from above. 

"Get her!" the inquisitor shouted but the Order knights stood firm. "The river will kill her." they said smugly before turning away. "I will find you!" the Inquisitor shouted as Avery was washed down the river.

the next day,

Avery awoke with the sun gently shining on her face. As she gazed up, a serene view of birds circling and a gentle breeze eased her nerves but it all came crashing down when one of the birds landed a lucky shot onto her hand. "Seriously." she said before walking to the river. Avery rubbed her hands together slowly, taking her time before an object on the other side of the river caught her eye.

As she swam across the now calm river, she tried to figure out where she was or how far she had been washed away but to no avail. Her mind turned to survival, how was a city dweller to eat. Fortune did somewhat shine upon her though as when she came ashore, the Inquisitors sword lay casually at her feet.

She gripped the sword and swung it gently around. "Hunting can't be that hard."

[Darkspleen]

At the Southern border of the Ascainian Empire

After what felt like an eternity, the Champion suddenly stopped running. It was midday and the sun leaked into the glade where the group now stood. Emerald grass grew in the center, where the leaves overhead were shallow, and thick beech trees with gnarled roots ringed the area. The air was hot and humid, a telltale sign that they had traveled further west, towards the tropics.

A rush of wind spilled over the trees and into the glade, cooling off the area ever so slightly while whipping up the fallen pink petals of what wild flowers grew underneath. The scene was calm and serene, a complete contrast to what the group had just witnessed.

A loud sigh broke from the Champion’s hood, and she fell to her knees, back cracking from the sudden release of pressure. Her knees ached and groaned, unsure of the sudden rest. The bodily reaction was short lived however, as suddenly the eye sparkled, catching the sunlight despite the Champion’s position in the shade of the beeches. The arrow shaft fell from her shoulder, cut in half, and no blood could be seen where the pont penetrated, just bare skin. Her muscles tensed and relaxed, suddenly no longer exhausted or sore. She sucked in a breath, her lungs feeling renewed despite her long run.

“By the world-mother’s tits” The faery muttered, having landed on the Wanderer’s shoulder sometime during their run, “What was that all about?” The Wanderer merely grunted from beneath her hood, having pulled it over her head some time ago. Despite the great distance they had run she seemed only slightly winded. A hand rested on the hilt of her falcata as she gazed at the woods surrounding them.

“Your dog,” the Champion began, not looking up from her kneeled position, “you need to get rid of him.”

The Wanderer ceased her perusal of their surroundings to give the Champion an icy glare. “No.”

“Acis?” The faery squeaked. “What’s he ever done to you?”

“They have his name,” The Champion stood up and turned to the two, “they can find us.”

“I don’t understand.” The faery seemed to be speaking for the two of them. The Wanderer’s icy expression had not thawed in the least, although she had shifted her attention back to their surroundings.

“I had you write your names down, I warned you to not speak them. But when you yelled Acis, they heard his name, and they can do whatever they want with him, including using him to locate us. Your quest requires you to not be located, for either of us to be ever found again. You saw back there what the Bannik are capable of, and that was the least of it. If they had both your names, I’m afraid I’d be standing here alone,” The Champion shook her head.
“And you didn’t think to mention ‘Oh hey, my enemies have super magic linked to knowing names’?” The faery asked, crossing her arms over her chest. The Wanderer simply shook her head.

“Why are the Bannik hunting you?” The Ethean asked after a moment.

“I warned you not to speak names,” The Champion hissed at the faery, unclear if out of anger of a long time of frustration. Turning to stare at the Wanderer, the Champion sighed, “there is no way I can explain that simply, but know that you have as much to do with it as I do. We have a quest to do, and time is limited I’m afraid.”

The Wanderer simply continued to watch their surroundings, although it was clear that a good portion of her attention was now fixed on the Champion. When she spoke next her tone was perfectly neutral, flat even, as if she was simply reading from a dry book. “The Champion and servants of Magalis should be aligned in interests.”

“If only,” the Champion replied, “but I’m afraid not anymore. Incursion has begun, and I need someone without a name to help me end it. Ethea has been tucked away for so long that the Bannik grew lazy on collecting your names, I was the only one who had yours, so I picked you to help me end this.”

“So you see, from this point on, you are as nameless as I am,” The Champion folded her arms, “and that goes for the faery too.”

“What? I like my name!” The faery looked and sounded legitimately dismayed. The Wanderer simply grunted. “I…. I’m not stuck with you two am I?”

“Think you can take on a group of Bannik alone?” The Wanderer asked.

“By the world-mothers tits…” Was all the faery said in response.

“Names are little more than labels given by one’s parents.” The Wanderer commented. “Is it…” It wasn’t quite hesitation that caused the Wanderer to pause, “safe to assume another label?”

“We can, but we cannot name ourselves, nor can those we are close to,” the Champion answered, “I would have to name you, and you would have to name me.”

The Wanderer grunted before stating “‘Champion’ is a good enough label for you.”

“Oh! Oh!” The faery jumped to her feet. “I can come up with a name for you!” The Wanderer’s grunt almost sounded amused this time.

“Wanderer would work,” The Champion answered, cutting the Faery off, “but not if we are questioned by other mortals. How about ‘Amyntas’, an Ethean name.”

A pale finger pointed at the Faery, “and you can be Ludda.”

“Oh! You can be Gwenyver!” The faery was practically bouncing.

“Ascainian for ‘white lady’” The Wanderer, Amyntas, commented. “Fitting.”

“Great,” Gwenyver nodded, a thread of enjoyment in her voice, but only under the fabric of urgency, “put a hood on the dog so that the sky might not see his face, and rename him, and then I think that order of business is all settled for now.

“How about Umbra, for what he shall be from now on,” Gwenyver quickly added, a sense of eagerness in her voice.

A great amount of tension seemed to ease out of Amyntas’s body as she pulled out a piece of cloth and wrapped it around the dog’s head, taking care to cover the top of his head in a way that would still allow him to actually see. “Good boy… Umbra” Amyntas mumbled. The good looked up at her before giving her a big sloppy lick on the face.

Ludda smiled as she hopped off of Amyntas shoulder with a flutter of her wings. She flew towards Gwenyver, hovering by her head as she quietly whispered “I think she’d have sacrificed you to save that dog.” Amyntas shot Ludda an icy stare, causing the faery to add. “Or maybe just me.”

Two crimson eyes peered at Ludda behind Gwenyver’s hood, they looked worried, “I’m afraid more than I would have been sacrificed if we did nothing.”

Sucking in a breath she let her eyes fall on all of her new companions, “I feel as though perhaps we should continue our quest if all are able bodied, but if you need rest, there is no shame in saying.” Despite her almost entertained tones earlier, she had reverted back to a serious urgency, her breezy voice cutting the words out with importance.

“We should rest for a few hours.” Amyntas said. “A- Err… Umbra doesn’t have the same amount of endurance as I.” There was just a hint of concern in Amyntas’s voice as she looked at the panting canine. “I will take the first watch.”

Ludda snorted as she whispered “If you don’t watch her carefully she’ll take all of the watches.”

“Only because you can’t be trusted to pay attention for more than a few minutes.” Amyntas stated. “I doubt Gwenyver is as… unfocused as you.”

“You can sleep,” Gwenyver offered, “I don’t need to.” She stood up tall, as if proving a point, “feel free to rest, I’ll keep watch.”

Amyntas stared at Gwenyver for a moment before giving a slight nod of her head. She sat down, resting her back against a tree. Umbra laid down at her side, his large head resting on her lap. Amyntas had already closed her yes, her chest rising and falling in the tell-tale rhythm of sleep. Ludda eyed the two for a moment before setting down on Gwenyver’s shoulder, a distinctly Earthen aroma permeating from Gwenyver’s robes.

Turning her head towards the Faery, Gwenyver spoke softly, conscious of her sleeping companions, “do you always land without permission?”

“Yup!” Ludda exclaimed seeming oblivious of the fact that certain persons nearby were asleep. Despite the noise Amyntas didn’t stir, although Umbra did lift his head from her lap long enough to look at the faery. “Amyntas used to give me those icy glares of her whenever I did so. She doesn’t anymore.” The faery spoke with the smugness one would expect of a triumphant general or admiral.

Gwenyver pursed her lips in thought, eyes flickering across the small creature on her shoulder, “you’re a very happy being.”

“Mhm” Ludda agreed. “Amyntas says I’m audacis...Umm… audnosous… No… Audacious! Yes! She says I’m audacious and vexatious!” She beamed at Gwenyver. As if an afterthought she added “She’s nice, even if she doesn’t talk much.”

“I’m sure she is,” Gwenyver’s discolored lips formed what could only be described as a painfully forced smile that looked more uncomfortable than if she were to just frown.

“I do feel bad though,” her mouth snapped back to its serious line, “you weren’t suppose to be… well you weren’t suppose to get caught up in this, only her.”

Ludda tittered. “Someone has to watch out for her.” She gestured towards Amyntas. “And it wouldn’t take much more effort to keep an eye out for you.” Some, but not all, of the mirth slowly drained from the faery’s face. “What have you gotten us into?”

“Something that could either destroy everything, or save us all,” Gwenyver answered cryptically, “the world is changing, and its change is felt in the Volcano. The forming of Antioch, the crusades, a wicked birth down in the southern isles, the sacrifices of the west growing heavier, and the structure of the east degrading. I can feel every light extinguished or lit, but our quest is more than that. We have a lot to do, and I didn’t want to drag anyone else into this, but it had to be done.”

Ludda tilted her head to the side as she parroted “Structure of the east degrading? What’s that? And what’s Antioch?”

Gwenyver waved a hand, “do not worry about the names I am throwing, they aren’t important for you to know, just know that once we are done resting, we go retrieve the Volcano’s heart.”

“Hmmm…” Ludda rocked from side to side as she thought. “Amyntas has mentioned something about an apple everyday since we left Ethea.” She commented. “Something about resurrecting an ancient princess. Or was it an empress.” She shrugged after a moment. “I don’t really know.”

Red eyes fixate on Ludda, “you mention the Golden Apple, a relic of the Volcano. Is that why you wander?”

Ludda shook her head. “I just keep Amyntas company. She’d get very lonely without me. She’s not out here for the apple, but I think she’d leap at the chance to get it.”

“Lonely?” Gwenyver raised a brow, “then why does she wander?”

“Cause she’s good at following orders.” Ludda beamed. “First the Emperor said to go make contact with the outside world.” She began counting on her hand. “Then the prince said to gather any information she could. And then the Praetorian. Well he gave her a huge list of things: terrian, um… important locations… and things… and stuff.” The faery had a sheepish look on her face.

“And yet, she accepted a quest from me,” Gwenyver challenged, “a quest that won’t allow her to do any of those, at least not that I can foresee. What else should I know?”

“She’s… pee-us?” Ludda half answered half asked.

“Pious?” Gwenyver looked confused, “do you mean pious?”

“Isn’t that what I said?”

“No, not it is not,” The woman shook her head, “‘but yes, I could tell she was pious. I wonder how pious.”

“Super!” Ludda threw her hands over her head for extra emphasis. “Sometimes she gets into theo...theologibible… um.. Arguments with Arch Matriarch Cy-” Her eyes suddenly widened. “No names.” She whispered.

“I appreciate the discretion,” Gwenyver smiled genuinely, pearly teeth being revealed, “but it is just our names that need to remain unspoken. I’m sure many a Bannik already have her name.”

“Ok. Well sometimes Arch Matriarch Cynthia gets really annoyed.” Ludda continued. “She never lets it show on her face, but I can tell by the way she shortens her sentences. Oh. And Amyntas looks really smug. She says the Arch Matriarch doesn’t appreciate being called out on… bad interpretations.”

“That’s pretty funny,” Gwenyver replied, actual amusement in her voice, “I wonder what both their interpretations are. I’ve come across so many different ones.”

“It all sounds the same to me” Ludda said with a shrug. “She sometimes argues with the prince, but she never looks smug when they are done.”

“And why is that, you think?”

“I don’t know. He must be good at arguing.” Ludda said after a moment. “Amyntas’s cheeks are always red. And she always walks away fast.”

Gwenyver crossed her arms, her chest vibrating with what might be a hidden chuckle, “very good.” was all she said. After a moment she looked at Ludda, “and yourself?”

“Hmmmm….?” She cocked her head to the side as she looked at Gwenyver.

“What about you, you said so much about Amyntas, but what about you?”

“I stay with her in the palace!” Ludda beamed. “I like to sneak into the kitchens cause the cooks give me sweets. Sometimes the prince gives me some too. Amyntas gets mad when she finds out though.” Ludda gave her best impression of an icy glare. “She says I’ll get too fat to fly.”

“That’s sweet,” Gwenyver simply replied, “have you always lived there?”

“I think so?” Ludda answered. “I don’t remember not being there.” After a moment she asked “So why are you so white? Are you sick?”

“I am very sick,” Gwenyver answered, looking down at her shoulder, “very.”

Ludda gasped, jumping to her feet. “Its not… contig..config… I’m not going to get it too, right?”

“It’s too early to tell,” Gwenyver nodded solemnly, “much too early.”

“Why would you let me land on your shoulder?” Ludda sounded both shocked and dismayed. She jumped off the shoulder and hovered by Gwenyver’s head, seeming unsure if she was “safe” yet.

“I didn’t, you just did it on your own will,” Gwenyver shrugged, “You’re probably fine, maybe.”

“Aaaaaaaah!” Ludda yelled as she darted towards Amyntas. Umbra lifted his head as if to glare at the faery in place of his master. The faery completely ignored the dog, however, continuing her cry even as she fly into Amyntas’s hood. A long sigh could be heard from under the hood even as Ludda yelled “I’m going to be sick!”

“And this is how it spreads.” Amyntas commented.

“Am I going to die?” Ludda could be heard asking from under the hood.

“Only if you don’t get enough sleep.” Amyntas answered. There was a gasp and then blissful silence. Amyntas shifted, carefully moving away from Umbra so she could stand. She reached inside, grabbed the faery, and carefully laid her down on Umbra’s back. “Now sleep.” She ordered before walking towards Gwenyver. The faery had already curled up into a ball and was trying, intensely, to fall asleep.

“Did you rest enough?” Gwenyver asked, her arms folding over her chest.

“Yes” Amyntas answered, folding her own arms over her chest.

“Are you sure?” Gwenyver tightened her hug on herself.

“Yes.” Was the only reply given.

“Ludda was happy to tell me quite a bit about you while you slept,” Gwenyver let her arms fall to her sides.

“I see” Amyntas said, her tone revealing nothing. Her gaze shifted to the forest around them before setting back on Gwenyver.

“Well.” Gwenyver digressed.

“As soon as we are ready, we head for the heart of the volcano.”

“By heart you mean the artifact?” Amyntas asked. “Why?”

“We need it to complete our quest,” Gwenyver answered, “it is crucial.”

“How is it critical?” Amyntas asked. It was becoming blatantly obvious that neither party wanted to reveal more than was absolutely necessary.

“Without it, we cannot find the rest of the pieces that belong to the volcano,” Gwenyver answered, “it is our map.”

“We should hasten to obtain it then.” Amyntas stated. “It would be unfortunate if someone else reach it first.” The way she said unfortunate made it sound like she would have preferred to say ‘bothersome’ instead.

“I agree,” Gwenyver replied, her tone almost confused, as if she had forgotten what it was like to talk to Amyntas in the time she spent chatting with Ludda.

“Shall we wait a while longer for Ludda to nap, or wake her up?”

Amyntas glanced back where Ludda and Umbra were sleeping. “She’ll be especially vexatious if we don’t let her sleep.” She commented. “An hour should suffice.”

“What would you like to do in that hour?” Gwenyver asked, curiosity in her tone.

“Wait.” Amyntas said. She pulled out a rag and dampened it with some of the water from her waterskin. She then pulled out her falcata and began to scrub some of the dried blood from the blade, taking extra care to clean the runes on the blade’s sides.

“Where did you get your blade?” Gwenyver asked, shifting towards it.

“It was given to me by the prince.” She didn’t look up from her work. She seemed to be content to say little more, but sensing that Gwenyver would push the conversation further anyways added “I will offer it to Magalis if the opportunity arises.”

“We’ll see,” Gwenyver slinked back suddenly, “who knows what’s to come.”

“Yes” Amyntas agreed. “Especially when certain individuals seem unwilling to explain why Magalis’s servants are after them.”

“There was an insurrection,” Gwenyver answered, “I said this. Not all the Bannik see eye to eye.”

“Curious” Amyntas said. “Perhaps they are not worthy of being Magalis’ foremost servants then.”

“They are more than worthy,” Gwenyver seemed to spit fire under her words, “trust me, they deserve their title.”

Amyntas just grunted before turning her attention fully back to her work. After a few moments she put the freshly cleaned weapon away. She stood and stretched before turning towards Umbra and Ludda. A sharp whistle had the massive mastiff jumping to his feet and dashing towards her. Ludda let out a cry that was equal parts shock and enjoyment as she clung desperately to the dog’s back, doing her best to not fall off.

“Is it breakfast time?” The faery asked as the dog sat before the two women, his face seeming to ask the same question.

“Do you have sufficient supplies for yourself?” Amyntas asked.

“I’m not hungry, but thank you,” Gwenyver answered, patting her dusty robes, “you three should eat, and then we must head for Antioch.”

“Antioch?” Amyntas asked. She pulled out a piece of jerky, broke it into two pieces, and gave both Ludda and Umbra a piece.

“Yay!” Ludda yelled as the grabbed the piece of meat that rivaled her in size. Amyntas was already munching on another piece of meat.

“It’s a crusader state,” Gwenyver answered simply, “I won’t attempt and try to explain its politics, but it is where we need to go.”

“And is it close to Ascain?” Amyntas asked. “Are they faithful subjects of the world-mother?”

“I think we would be better off not mentioning Aketa while we are there,” Gwenyver answered thoughtfully, “Ascain helped them form their crusader state, they are Eleutherian.”

Amyntas’s expression hardened at the mention of Ascain. “Heathens then.” Her tone was flat, but even so it still managed to communicate a large degree of loathing. “I will take care to ensure they don’t learn of my heritage while there.” She glanced at Ludda as she stated “You will not mention our homeland.” The faery nodded once, but otherwise was too absorbed in eating breakfast to pay attention.

“Good,” Gwenyver seemed relieved,” I was slightly worried that you might’ve been opposed to hiding your faith and ethnicity while there. I appreciate fervor, but it is a small sacrifice for our quest.”

“Hahaha!” Ludda exaggerated her laugh as she gave the uneaten portions of her breakfast to Umbra. “Amyntas knows all about hiding and stuff!” Amyntas gave the faery an icy glare. “That’s what the emperor’s left hand does!”

Gwenyver looked between the two and smiled her awkward smile, “good, then this should go swimmingly.”

“Follow me,” Gwenyver said as she tightened one of the ties on her robes, “we just need to follow the river there, so a few hours march south and then west.”

[Drunken Conquistador]

Aboard the Royal Barge. Empire of Arkush.

The Arkushite Royal Barge was a luxurious craft. A large pleasure ship built by the previous King of Kings, equipped to entertain the most decadent of nobles for days as it lazily floated through the river. When Tikulti-Arkusha took the throne and started his fight to restore the Empire, he decided to maintain the Barge. It had become a symbol of imperial power by now, and as much as he hated to admit it, he needed every scrap of legitimacy he could get his hands on. Specially in those intense early days when he had to march across the nation put down revolts and breaking the power of the nobility.

In the following five years the standing of the Crown had improved greatly. The private armies of the nobility were a thing of the past, the Empire could now field a standing army of well equipped and trained professionals. And though still a problem, the corruption within the bureaucracy had been considerably lessened. And during all this uphill slog, the Barge, with its concubines, eunuchs, musicians and other entertainers had become a welcome escape for the King of Kings and his close retainers.

This time however, the Barge wouldn't be providing entertainment, but instead serving its second more secretive purpose. Emptied of all but the closest and most loyal of servants and loaded with a precious cargo, the vessel departed in the darkest hour of the night, when Fen-Garzhi was still high in the sky, from the Palace complex's port. Sailing silently through the canals of Tell Arkush.

From his silk-lined divan in the stern tower of the Barge, the King of Kings could see the faint forms of Tell Arkush's spires finally disappearing beneath the horizon, leaving only the vast, deep blue waters of the Almarah River. On the other side, far beyond the prow, the colossal shape of Arkush rose out of the waters. The volcano slowly growing closer as the Barge sailed towards its island. Looking at the sky, Tikulti could see that in a few hours, Fen-Garzhi would to give way to Katush. It was time to start the preparations. He should send for his daughter.

And as the servant scurried away to carry out his orders, the King of Kings jumped to his feet. Pacing along the spacious length of the tower top, he prayed silently to Arkush. Begging and pleading, as one must do when speaking to the higher powers. For a safe travel to the bosom of the Universal Queen. For wisdom and strength to face the coming days. It wasn't Tikulti's first visit to the Goddess' Island, not by far. But he could feel something in his bones that left him with deeply unsettled. The priests could feel it too. Something monumental was bound to happen in the near future. That's why he was sailing to the Island this day, three months before the usual date every six months. Tikulti sought answers and reassurances. Both in his capacity as King of Kings and Grandmaster of the Order of the Flaming Eye.

The Order was one of the many mystery cults of the Empire. These cults were organizations for those whom simply visiting the temples and obeying the scriptures simply wasn't enough. For those who wanted more, or different, answers than those the priests could provide. Tikulti had joined the Cult decades ago, even before succeeding his father as governor of Supharmesh. And now it was his daughter's turn to join the ranks of the Order. True, 10 years was a rather young age to be initiated in the Mysteries of the Eye. But as the future ruler of Arkush, the King of Kings couldn't afford to delay her development. And ignoring everything else, the political influence her daughter would eventually wield as respected member of the Order of the Flaming Eye would surely help her strengthening her reign just as it did his.

A knock caught Tikulti's attention as he gazed at the distant volcano. The King of Kings turned his to see the same servant emerging from the stairs. The man bowed to him, touching his forehead to the ground, as is custom, before rising up and declaring:

“Thy will is my purpose, oh King of Kings! Let me present you the Princess Innana and her guardian!” The servant bowed again and returned to his corner.

And on cue other two figures reached the top of the wooden tower. The horned, red and armored form of Carmush, the Anahir bodyguard and the princess herself, dressed in the light red and black silk uniform of the Order, loose fitting shirt, a thick red sash around the waist and pantaloons embroidered with holy symbols and glyphs. With the Flaming Eye of Arkush taking prominence, emblazoned on her chest. Tikulti gave his daughter a slight smile as her bodyguard bowed to the King of Kings.

“Are you ready?” The King of Kings asked, kneeling before his daughter with a smile. “We have to start the preparations soon.”

Innana nodded excitedly, a large smile gracing her childish features. “Yes, dad!” She chirped. “I have learned all the tools and all the process and can I joi-”

Tikulti shushed his daughter with a hand on her shoulder:

“Calm down, my princess. I get it that you're excited but mind your manners.” He reprehended her gently. “You are but an initiate. And your duty today will be just that. Now put on your mask and remember to do your duty to the Order.”

Properly chastised, Innana blushed in embarrassment and nodded. The King of Kings stood up and nodded slightly to Carmush, who remained stoic as always, to lead the way down to the lower levels.

The Princess retrieved a masterfully crafted brazen mask, sculpted to resemble a grinning Banik, tied to the sash around her waist. The King of Kings walked over to another corner of the room, retrieving his own mask from a cabinet. It was a beautiful thing. Crafted to resemble the divine visage of the Holy Goddess. Made of gold and decorated with jewels and rubies. Though it had no lower jaw, letting his braided, bejeweled and oiled beard spill forth.

The trio then descended the stairs of the tower, heading straight towards the bowels of the Barge. Where the precious cargo was being held. 50 prisoners, a mix of infidels and heretics from all the nations around the Empire itself. Men and women who, despite their sins and foulness in life, would be given the chance to honor the volcano in death. But before setting foot on the Island they had to be prepared properly.

The prisoners were all chained close to each other in the back of the room, naked, dirty and scared. Several guards and servants stood by the corners and the door, they bowed as the King of Kings stepped into the room. A few prisoners had enough willpower left to glare at the newcomer, but by this point most of them had been broken by long torture sessions. Some of which the King of Kings had presided in person in his capacity as Grandmaster of the Eye.

Silently, Tikulti moved to a large table near the center of the room. He gestured for the guards to bring the first prisoner to him as a servant handed Innana a plate filled with several kinds of blades and other torture instruments. His daughter's body language, Tikulti noticed, had slipped for a moment before she regained her composure. He didn't blame her, she was still young, in time she would get used to it. Just as he did when he entered the Order.

The guards finished strapping the prisoner to the table, a middle aged Antiochian Crusader with fiery red hair. Tikulti stepped closer to the torture table, taking a moment to analyze his charge. The man was breathing hard, eyes wide trying to focus on something inside the dark room. His whole body was covered by a sheen of sweat, dirt, blood and scars and marks. A mix of old, faded reminders of old battles and the work of the Arkushites tortures. The more noticeable was a diagonal cut running from his shoulder to his hip, it was faded but the sheer size managed to catch one's attention. His nose and fingers had been broke recently and if it weren't for the torture scars marring his body, Tikulti had to admit, the Crusader would be a handsome man.

The Grandmaster extended a hand and the Initiate handed him a blade. He noticed with slight satisfaction that it was the right one. Holding the already strapped head with one hand, he leaned closer to the man. Bringing his other hand, and the blade, closer to his face. The Grandmaster had to be careful now, the eyes were a delicate part of the anatomy. A single slip would kill the man, and that wouldn't simply do. The prisoners had to reach the Island alive, but being infidels and heathens, they aren't worth of seeing the Goddess in Her earthly glory. And so their eyes had to be cut out. Alongside with their tongues so that they wouldn't blaspheme on holy ground.

The work lasted for a couple hours. Tikulti cut out the eyes and tongue while his daughter held the plate with the tools of his work close by. As soon as he was done, servants would take the prisoner away to tend to his wounds and make sure he wouldn't die before his time while the guards were already dragging the next one to his table. Now the King of Kings, still dressed in the clothes of the Grandmaster's office, and the rest of his party of guards, prisoners, servants and lesser members of the Order, were sailing in smaller boats towards the Holy Island. The Barge was too large to dock directly on the small pier maintained by the Banik, who would also provide the necessary guides and some of the supplies necessary to reach their destination.

On the leading boat, Tikulti sat besides his daughter. She had behaved as well as one could expect given the circumstances, handing him the correct tools and observing the proper protocols and behavior for every step of the process.

“You did well back there.” Tikulti told his daughter, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder as she leaned on him. “Don't feel ashamed for what you felt. The first time is always hard, it was for me and I'm sure your mother didn't fare any better. What matters now is that you maintained your composure. In time you will get used and even grow to enjoy to it.”

She, looked up at him, whatever emotions she had were covered by the grinning Banik mask, before looking away to the ever approaching Island.

The trip went smoothly, and so did the docking. By the time the entire party was ready to depart, Kaftush had already replaced Fen-Garzhi in the sky. If they maintained a good pace they would reach the Goddess by midday.

Their Banik guides made sure to pick the best route towards the Volcano, and so their trip went smoothly. For despite being day, the Servants of the Goddess insisted on bringing many torches and herbs. These herbs, when burned, released a smell that drove away the giant insects that inhabited the Island. Tikulti's own servants had come equipped with the appropriate blades for clearing the jungle. The trip took them through deep, thick jungle, fetid swamps and the remnants of colossal architecture.

The ruins still impressed Tikulti, no matter how many times he passed through them. There were no words to truly describe their scale or variety. From mere half buried marble columns to colossal walls of glossy, shiny black stone that looked as if it was made of a single titanic bloc. And the engravings! Such a variety of runes, glyphs, symbols and scenes! Most of them completely incomprehensible but of such unknown beauty and elegance.

It was in one of those ruins that the party stopped for a short rest. The prisoners needed to be watered and fed if they were to survive the trip. And truth be told, they all needed a short rest after walking hours to end. The ruin itself was a colossal half-cracked dome of the same shiny, glossy, smooth black stone. It was probably big enough to fit at least a quarter of the Palace Complex back in Tell Arkush. Tikulti could only dream about the actual size of the rest of the building.

After seeing to the prisoners, the King of Kings found himself walking over to his daughter and her bodyguard. The Princess sat somewhat further off, back turned to the group, resting atop a pile of stones and admiring a mural.

Carmush saw the King of Kings approach and quietly stepped away to give them some privacy. The King sat besides his daughter, who was too engrossed with the exotic and incomprehensible mural on the dome's wall.

“Do you know what this means, dad?” She asked, finally turning her head to face him. Without the mask Tikulti could see that she was still a little pale and shaky. “I can't make anything of the scriptures and the images…are those strange tentacled things supposed to be descending from the stars?” She finished, pointing toward a particular session of the mural. The scene depicted, in red engravings over the black stone, a field of what Tikulti supposed could be, among other things, stars. And from them descended a mass of tall, thin things with bulbous heads and tentacles? The images were too faded to be sure. And the inscriptions were also indecipherable, and looking too closely for too long at them actually was starting to give him a headache, though at the same time it was getting hard to look away.

“I truly don't know.” Tikulti replied, tearing his eyes away from the mural. “To be honest we don't know much about anything in this place. The Banik aren't very forthcoming about answers and the Goddess has yet to give us the answer to this particular question.” He placed a hand on her shoulder. “Though you shouldn't worry too much about it. It's not your place to do so, at least not yet.”

“Did-did I disappoint you, dad?” Innana blurted out, eyes wide as she looked up at her father. “I couldn't help but look away as you...you worked on the prisoners. “I know I should have looked but I couldn't.”

“You did well, dear.” Tikulti replied as he leaned down to embrace his daughter. “You're still a child. Don't worry overmuch about it. You will soon get used to these necessary cruelties. Not only for your role within the Order but also for your role as Princess and future Queen of Queens.”

“Necessary cruelties?” Innana asked, somewhat unsure.

“There's a place and a time for everything.” Tikulti replied sagely. “And just one must rule with fairness and righteousness, a wise ruler will also know when to employ ruthless and swift retribution upon his or her enemies. The hard part is knowing which situation requires what kind of approach.” Before she could wonder further he noticed something laid by her feet. “And what do we have here?” Tikulti asked as he leaned down to take the object.

“I found it nearby, dad.” Innana replied as the King of Kings studied the thing. It looked like an idol of dark red, almost black, stone. A humanoid figure sat upon a square base filled with strange inscriptions. Two small stone torches rose from the base, their flame almost seemed to be dancing before his eyes. The figure itself looked like a naked, tattooed woman, or at least something looking very much like one, sitting atop a throne. It was incredibly detailed, almost lifelike. But something on it left the King of Kings very unsettled.

“We aren't supposed to take anything that isn't offered to us.” Tikulti said sternly as he handed the idol back to his daughter. “Put it back where you found it and put your mask back on. We are moving out.” He almost jumped out of his seat before remembering to keep his composure.

The rest of the trip took the rest of the morning, but went smoothly. By the time they reached the Volcano it was midday and Kaftush shone brightly in the sky. Tikulti was sweating by now, from the combined heat of the sun and the proximity to the Goddess Herself. Though any discomfort caused by perspiration was nothing compared to the bliss of being so close to the warmth of the Universal Queen. The Banik guided them through a path along the Volcano that led them atop a crag in the Volcano's length. And in down below it a river of lava was flowing. It was time to finish this once and for all them.

The Grandmaster took position near the edge of the rock. He spread his arms and looked towards the imposing and distant top of the Volcano as he started chanting and singing the Holy Words of the Eye. The rest of the party, save the Banik joined in as the prisoners were led to the edge of the crag. The Grandmaster kicked the first one down and his chains dragged the other 49 down with him. The rest being too weak to resist the falling weight of their comrades pulling them towards their doom and the guard shoving and kicking at their backs. The sheer heat of the lava killed the prisoners before they even hit the stream but still they screamed as they fell down. An agonizing, strangled sound coming out of ruined throats and mouths.

The Grandmaster and his cohorts continued to chant until the last sacrifice had been consumed by the lava. And only then they allowed the Banik to guide them down from the crag and to start the long trip back towards the dock through the thick jungles and ruins ancient beyond imagining.

TL DR

-50 Eleutherians are thrown to the Volcano

[Monkeypants]

Antioch, northern forests

In the middle of the forest, straddling the long river, walked Avery, tired and hungry from the long days walk. It had to be afternoon by now but the lack of any sundials. “It’s so hot.” Avery concluded, even after a long nude dip in the river. She had long passed the rapids and fish were quite abundant. However, her lack of knowledge in the field of fishing led to frustration at her failed attempts. Not long had passed before she decided to try and find a road, which reached fruition in the form of a dirt game path.

Her stomach growled and vision began to fade as the heat strained her already exhausted body. It persisted and eventually overcame her attempts to remain focused. She yawned, and yawned again until her vision faded and her body fell to its knees, and finally onto the ground.

    Leaves crumbling up ahead, three bodies marched through the woods, a sense of direction and purpose in each lively step. The faint chatter of a small woman could be heard, with the light grunts and small sounds of disinterest replying. Dog feet pattered behind, a soft pant slobbering.

    The group crunched on a few fallen twigs as they came to the light clearing of trees, where the vegetation was just sparse enough to be called a natural path alongside the river bank. Immediately the red eyes of Gwenyver caught sight of the hunched over figure settled in the forest shrubs and river grasses, pursing her lips she seemed intent on continuing, unsure if her companion had seen.

    Amyntas certainly had seen the fallen figure and had promptly continued walking, intent on ignoring it. Fortunately, or unfortunately depending on who was asked, Ludda also noticed. “Oh what’s that? Is that a woman?” She asked. “Is she napping? What a terrible place to nap!”

    “Hush!” Gwenyver hissed, her eyes darting cautiously around, “it could be a trick, we should just keep moving, our destination is further still.”

    “Oh! You mean that place with the bunch of.. Eeer- Heffers?” Ludda asked.

    “Heathens.” Amyntas quietly corrected. She had clearly been working on masking her accent. With each word spoken it seemed that she was closer to perfectly imitating an Ascainian accent. Even so she clearly wasn’t there yet.

    As the group drew nearer, Avery’s senses seemed to kick in, bringing her slightly from her dreary state. Her head slowly turned towards the group, “Help.” she said calmly. “Food.” She tried to gather the strength to pull herself upright but her body didn’t have the energy. She simply laid there, frustrated. “Please. Help.”

    “AAAAAAH! It’s a zombie!” Ludda screamed.

    “Shush” Amyntas whispered. She brought a hand up to her hood and ensured it hid her face from view. She turned her gaze to Gwenyver, a question in her expression as she tilted her head towards the woman.

    “This ploy would be too weak for a Bannik,” Gwenyver simply stated after seeing the look Amyntas gave her. After a second of silence she added, “throw her food if you want, but I don’t have a good feeling about this, every second spent wondering is a second taken from our journey.”
   
    “You are so meer… me… dramatic!” Ludda said.

    “Melodramatic” Amyntas corrected as she reached into her cloak. After a moment she pulled out a piece of jerky and tossed it to the unidentified woman.

    “Oh! Oh! Can we keep her?” Ludda asked.

    “No.” Amyntas shot her an icy glare.

    “Please! I promise to feed her! And bath her!”

    “You can’t have humans for pets.” Was all Amyntas said in response.

    “Well I mean,” was all Gwenyver added idly, “no, this is getting a little dark.”

    Avery’s eyes opened wide as the jerky landed at her. It was like a feral animal as she quickly dove for the food. Her bites were vicious and the look she gave the group was that of an angry mother protecting her child. After the jerky was devoured, Avery leaned back.

    “Would you want that for a pet anyways?” Amyntas asked as she gestured at the woman. “I suspect it’d bite your hand off every time you tried to feed it. Simply dreadful.” Amyntas shook her head.

    Avery stood up and dusted herself off though she was still sweating from the heat. She slowly walked towards the group and spoke softly, “Thank you for your generosity.” She seemed to examine the three before speaking once more, “Praise to Aketa?” as if testing their faith.
   
Gwenyver slowly kept moving, hoping the others would follow her, a grave stare peeking out from her dark robes. Walking almost as if tied to the others by an invisible rope, it was clear she wasn’t going to leave without the others, despite a clear and intense desire to continue her quest.

Amyntas grunted and turned to leave as well, but let out a long sigh when Ludda jumped out from under her hood. “Yay! Not a heathen!” She exclaimed as she pointed at the woman. She paused before adding “Right?”

    “Perhaps” Was all Amyntas said as she turned an icy glare on Ludda. Ludda was oblivious to the look, however.

    Avery yelped as the faery made itself known. She jumped back and pointed, “What is that!” she said. Her fear slowly faded as she examined Ludda, “Wait.” she paused and took a deep breath and knowing she had no reason to hide anything, spoke softly, “I’m searching for Ethea.”

    Ludda opened her mouth but was cut off when Amyntas said “Good luck.” Ludda glanced back at Amyntas and, seeing something in the woman’s expression, decided it’d be best for her to take cover on Gwenyver’s shoulder.

    “I think she’s mad” Ludda whispered after setting down on Gwenyver’s shoulder.

    “We have a task to do, the woman is fine, and we are not needed here any longer,” Gwenyver looked at Ludda, her eyes scanning the small figure, “I understand your compassion, and I respect it, but I can’t spare my attention away from our task. Our destination is a ways away, and we need every moment of daylight to get there.”

    Avery huffed and looked around, “Well, Unless you’re Eleutheran, the direction you’re heading isn’t very forgiving.  She looked into the sky, seeing where the sun was and then pointed north. “You’ll want to go that way, especially due to the new ‘inquisition’ that antioch is doing.”

    Gwenyver tilted her head towards the mystery woman, “And what do you know of Antioch?”

    “Well, where should I start.” Avery said grinning. “It’s my home.”

    “Fascinating” Amyntas dryly commented.

    “We are a long way from home too!” Ludda exclaimed. “Oh! Oh! What kind of food do they have in Antioch?”

    “That depends on where in the nation you go.” Avery replied plainly. “The most common is bread and deer meat. And ‘kingsbrew’ Ale which is always cheap.”

    “I love ale!” Ludda exclaimed. Amyntas actually groaned, implying there was a story to be told at a later date.

    “Bring us to your capital,” Gwenyver stated simply, “walk in front.” Her eyes peered out with dominance, and a sense of persuasive command leaked from her words. The words echoed and bounced around the forest, as if the trees were in agreement with her demands.

    “Well, that’s going to be a bit of a problem. That’s where the inquisition against Ilinucists sort of began.” She sighed, “They are good at what they do.” She sighed again, “But if that’s what you want, I’ll lead you to the capitol.”

    “Walk in front,” Gwenyver’s words were adamant, yet very convincing.

    “What makes you think we’ll have an issue with the inquisition?” Amyntas asked. She held her hand out towards Gwenyver, palm up. After a moment Ludda jumped off Gwenyver’s shoulder and landed on the palm. Without saying anything else she put the little faery back under the folds of her hood.

    Avery shook her head, “I suppose you’re right. Well. Let's go.” she said, turning around and walking.

[GreivousKhan]

Birth Pangs

Hospice Isles

The alley stank of piss, shit, and the gods knew what else. Of course, the slums of the Hospice isles never smelled pleasing to any decent man's senses. Only now the usual stink was accompanied by the distinct coppery iron smell of blood. Though it was the sight before watch Captain Karrnthal that nauseated him the most. He fished his worn handkerchief from his back pocket and covered his mouth in a vain attempt to guard against the smell and the rolling in his stomach. He shook his head as he observed the scene before him.

“Almost nineteen years in this shit show and I’ve never seen anything like dis,” Karrnthal said in disbelief.

The robed man standing beside the watchmen leaned on his cane and sighed. Opposite the pair was the corpse of a local alchemist who had plied his trade in trying to help the community in the district. Those normally too poor to afford the apothecaries from the higher end districts. Deaths in Ravencroft were nothing new of course, but this was very different. The alchemist’s body was leaned up against the dead end wall of the alleyway, body lifeless, hands unmoving, and his head slumped forward. Or at least what was left of his head. The man in question- Cyrno Daz-Si- had his entire upper skull starting from just above his eyes missing. Along with the brain, that should have been inside his cranium. Behind the slumped body the wall was splattered in blood and above the body itself was a message painted in red. No words- simply a date.

Karrnthal scratched his chin and said, “And what ya make of that?” Gesturing toward the bloody message.

The robed man said nothing for some time before stating simply, “That I don’t know. But you did well in calling upon me. I have little doubt this is the work of the man we seek. I don't need to tell you the importance of finding him.”

“We already have patrols in place watching the docks- even inner island to island travel- just who is this guy?”

The robed man ran a hand through his beard before saying cryptically, “A mistake. One I must rectify without delay. You need not know anything beyond that. You shall have the aid of the Circle, that much I may promise. Just know that he is... dangerous.“

Captain Karrnthal scoffed, “Clearly. I hear the seven are now only six.”

“That is none of your concern Captain,” a hard edge to the robed man's tone.

“Of course, my apologies Lore Master Rusiz, However, anything you can share about this.. suspect. Could be of value.”

“You already know the man in question is a powerful sorcerer. You and your men would be wise to prepare accordingly.” Rusiz turned from the body and began walking toward the alleys exit where several other members of the watch waited. “You must make finding him your top priority. We cannot afford to have him reach the mainland. Under any circumstances.”

Captain Karrnthal walked up beside Rusiz as he placed his handkerchief back under his sash and said, “Of course, we’ll find him you can be assured of that. Can you at least give me a name for this man? It could make finding him easier if we use clairvoyance magic.”

Master Rusiz shook his head, “Fool. If it was that simple the circle would have found him long ago. He was raised as a slave. He has no name. Simply a number. 21.”

Ravencroft: Port of Deceit

Harbor of Captain’s Isle (aka the Main island)

Captain Junal gripped the rails and tried to peer through the fog by force of will. He hated trying to make port here when the mist was heavy; there were too many perils and his pilot was green. At last, the haze broke. Silhouettes of buildings rose ahead, perched atop myriad islands connected by heavy bridges. Smoke stacks reached into the air alongside wide towers. It was an unholy mess of a city, and he’d rarely been happier to see it.

Off the starboard bow, Ravencroft sprawled across the inlet of the Dragon Tongue Gulf like a spider's web. He heard a shout erupt from the rowdy crew, and someone broke into an off-key song. Fresh from spoils at sea and having looted and sunk a Sanren vessel just four days before, the crew was in a real mood. They were barely containable, and Junal was eager to let them loose before there was more fighting.

Maintaining order was never easy after fresh spoils. It was no surprise the men were eyeing one another with greedy eyes thinking how they could increase their shares. All it would take was an accident in the dead of the night and a little splash in the waves for one fewer sailor to wake in the morning. He’d already had to lock up three of the worst of them after drunken brawling, and the mood on board had taken a bad turn.

It was time to let them hit the dockside taverns of Ravencroft and run amuck among the bawdy houses and gambling dens. They would spend most of their money and have nothing left to show for it- such was life a privateer. The smarter few would squirrel away against misfortune the next trip out. Either way, Captain Junal did not care; sailors came and went, and he knew fewer would return to his ship at the end of their stay than had left. Only a few had what it took to stay on and earn their keep to become trusted and valued.

The captain looked to his first mate, a grizzled man with one chewed off ear and a crooked tooth. That man nodded at his captain with a grin, thinking similar thoughts. There was nowhere else like Ravencroft. While he did not intend to waste all his money, the captain felt his own need to let off steam as well as find Lattimore and see if there were any other juicy targets for a privateer such as himself. The city held both death and fortune in its streets and was ready to shower them on its inhabitants one after another. Ravencroft might be many things, but dull was never one of them.

[Goldeagle1221]

After a day and a half of walking, sleep began to encroach on the band of travelers. Ludda found herself curled up in the back of Amyntas’ hood, and the others found themselves counting the tall trees as they walked by, eyelids drooping. Gwenyver’s glare seemed as strong as ever behind her hood, and whenever an ounce of fatigue seemed to set in her step, the gem around her neck caught the light, even though they walked engulfed in the shadow of the evening forest.

By a circle of thick barked trees Gwenyver stopped, her hand silently patting the walking Avery in front of her, signifying a stop. Looking around the mulch covered floor, she turned slowly towards Amyntas.

“We can rest here,” her eyes drifted to the panting Umbra, “drink, rest, eat.” The dog’s eyes sparkled at her words, as if hearing a beautiful melody.

Avery turned around to examine the area. Her attention immediately turned to the many twigs at her feet. She didn’t speak but rather stopped in the middle of the small clearing before crouching. She looked around before rummaging through a small pouch. From it she pulled a piece of flint and a short, thin metal plate. Within arms reach were dry leaves, of which she gathered along with a few of the twigs. She sighed once last time before gently striking the flint and metal together over the leaves. The sparks finally ignited, which was dainty at first but with enough care, it finally burst into a steady flame.

She turned about to face Gwenyver, “I’m going to go find some firewood. Shouldn’t be too hard with all these dry plants around.” Her attention turned to the trees then began walking.

“Be careful,” Gwenyver called back. A moment passed and a thought crossed her mind, “on second thought, I’m coming.”

Turning to Amyntas she whispered harshly, “Watch for Bannik, I’m unsure how safe we are.”

With that she began her brisk walk behind Avery, eyes peeking around every tree.

After a few minutes of fruitless searching, Avery turned to Gwenyver, “So, you’re going to Blackrock. What made you decide that?” she said, perfectly prepared for a frustrating answer.

Gwenyver picked up a dried stick, gently picking up another after it, stacking them in her arms. She hummed lightly as if in thought, “hmm, well.” She answered.

“It seems Blackrock is the only place I can find what I’m looking for.” Standing upright she snapped a dead twig off a tree and placed it in her growing pile, her eyes darting around.

“Quite a vague answer.” Avery said before reaching for a twig of her own. After a few more she spoke plainly “Well, I guess I hope you find what you are looking for.”

“Me too,” Gwenyver nodded, snagging another branch, “I must thank you for your consideration on not trying to pry too much, I’m much too embarrassed to reveal my destination.”

Her pale lips rose into a smile, and her eyes bore into Avery curiously, “but why were you sleeping in the woods, so far from civilization?”

Avery reached up for another twig before narrowing her gaze, “People there are persecuted for any reason. I so happened to not really, align with their beliefs.”

“So you left for the woods in search of Ethea?” Gwenyver raised a brow, “without any food or water?”

“I had a conflict of interest and was forced to leave.” Avery replied, but her look quickly changed to that of shame, “I had a choice to stay but it would have more than likely been the end of my life.” her gaze finally turned to Gwenyver, “From what I’ve heard, certain places in this world are more tolerant of…” she paused, thinking that these people could possibly be Eleutherian. “I am an Ilinucist. A religion they despise.”

Gwenyver’s crimson eyes flickered like a candle’s flame for a moment, soaking in the image in front of her. After a second of silence, her smile curled, “well! I will give you a choice then, as it is only fair.”

“You may continue to bring me to my destination, and I will be thankful,” She continued, “Or you can take my food and water, and leave, never to look back on our fateful finding of you. I will not force you to return to Blackrock.”

“Well, to be perfectly honest, I am not sure as to where Ethea is, save a few stories about them neighboring Ascain.” Avery said, following up with a sigh, “A place that is equally, if not more unforgiving of my faith. So, I’ll take you to Blackrock. It’s far enough from the city I was just at for word to not have spread. And it’s not as if the people there know of my appearance.” She smirked, “So yeah. I’ll lead you there.”

“Then I will be thankful,” Gwenyver nodded, “but know that you may leave whenever you wish, I do not keep those against their will.”

Picking up a final branch Gwenyver dipped her hooded head and turned back towards the camp where they had left Amyntas. Taking one step, she waiting for Avery to follow.

Avery gave a simple nod but not before looking up to examine the figure before her. After a dirty grin, she began walking towards camp as well.

Having broke from the trees and entered the small area they called camp, Gwenyver dropped her small bundle of sticks and walked to stand next to Amyntas. The woman had found a log to sit on, with Umbra smiling under her left hand, and Ludda on her right shoulder. Gwenyver stared at the three for a moment, her eyes doing their usual flicker. Talking softly, the calming sound of a morning breeze returning to her tone, she said, “I think I shall stand watch again tonight.”

Amyntas coughed as Gwenyver spoke. Sniffling she asked “Do you ever sleep?”

“Nope!” Gwenyver said in such a manner it could have been a joke. The odd pulses of her tone always seemed to dilute her intention, or perhaps mask it, either way, it always felt right to those who heard.

Amyntas simply grunted as she spared a glance towards Avery. She rose to her feet, a second cough escaping her lips, before sitting back down next to a tree, resting her back to it. She quietly asked “Do you think she is trustworthy?”

Gwenyver sat down next to Amyntas in such a way it looked uncomfortable, with her legs buckled underneath as she sat on her knees, her back perfectly straight. Gwenyver let a second pass before answering softly, “she is no Bannik, and I doubt she was sent here against us. Trustworthy, I have no idea, but worthy enough to guide us to Blackrock. Besides, I have a feeling she would actually be dead had we not come along, we are doing her a favor in a sense. Let’s just keep her strictly as a guide, it’ll quicken our pace for the time being.”

Amyntas frowned, seeming to have some kind of internal struggle. After a moment she spoke up again. “Its… concerning that she mentioned Ethea earlier.” It was unlike Amyntas to put to words her concerns, even more so to someone she barely knew. It wasn’t that she had felt compelled to speak up, so much as that she unreasonably felt that she should tell Gwenyver. Concerning. Dropping her voice lower she added “I have insured that she hasn’t seen any defining traits, but…”

“We just have to keep our eyes out,” Gwenyver answered, “I suspect it might even be better that she be under our observation until we get… well what we are looking for. She shouldn’t bring any trouble so long as we are careful as always.”

Amyntas grunted an affirmative. She seemed about to add something else when Ludda spoke up. “You could always seduce her with your feminine wiles.” She tittered, clearly amused by the thought. Amyntas was by no means ugly and was comely even. Even so the thought caused her to snort before shooting Ludda an icy glare.

“I doubt she’s interested in other women.” Amyntas stated after a moment, letting her glare thaw out just a tad. Ludda decided now was the time to switch whose shoulder she was resting on.

“Well I could certainly seduce her if I wanted.” Ludda stated as she plopped down onto Gwenyver’s shoulder. She gave the woman a wide smile before adding “But I wouldn’t want you two to feel jealous.”

“It would serve no purpose,” Gwenyver tilted her head in the way she had grown accustomed to whenever Ludda was on her shoulder. As always she studied the small creature before adding, “not a single purpose. It might even hinder our journey.”

“Don’t worry” Ludda said. “Your position as my number two shoulder was never in danger.” She patted Gwenyver’s shoulder for affect. It wasn’t clear whether she was serious or joking. Amyntas actually rolled her eyes in what was probably the most obvious display of emotion since Gwenyver had first seen her.

Gwenyver glanced over at Amyntas, a tiny smile on her face before looking back at Ludda, “even if I’m sick and contagious?” She attempted to joke.

Ludda’s eyes widened slightly as she looked at Gwenyver. “Umm….. That’s why you’re number two.” She commented after a moment. She glanced at Amyntas before whispering “Your shoulders are more comfortable.”

“Traitor.” The word was spoken so quietly that one might have believed it to have been imagined. Ludda’s eyes widened further as she looked towards Amyntas.

“Don’t fret,” Gwenyver said to Ludda, “you’re on the winning side.”

Amyntas seemed about to say something, but thought better of it and simply shrugged. “You have first watch then.” She stated after a moment. Within moments she had closed her eyes and fallen asleep. Ludda watched Amyntas’s still form for a moment before turning her gaze back to Gwenyver.

“I think she’s sad.” The faery commented after a moment.

“There will be a lot of sadness in our coming days,” Gwenyver answered, her smile long gone, “perhaps you should comfort her, you two need to be strong for what is to come.”

“I don’t know why she’s sad though.” Ludda frowned. “She’s just been really grouchy since yesterday. And leth.. Eeerm…” She glanced at Amyntas, perhaps realizing that the woman wasn’t awake to supply the correct word she was looking for. “Lazy?” The faery supplied after a moment.

“Lethargic?” Gwenyver concluded, “is she sad about her quest?”

“She hasn’t said.” Ludda’s frown deepened. “But she isn’t… doing stuff that she normally does.” Ludda began to fidget. “It's not normal.”

“You should get to the bottom of that,” Gwenyver’s voice was laced with an undying urgency, “if she cannot perform this quest, I’m afraid--”

“Let’s just make sure she is okay, I need her,” Gwenyver bit her lip, “you understand, right?”

“Mhm.” Ludda gave a nod that encompassed the entire upper half of her body. “Maybe she’ll feel better in the morning?”

“I certainly hope so, we only have so much time,” Gwenyver seemed to lose her usual breezy tone when she mentioned time, instead replacing it with almost a sad choking. Looking forward she went silent, “let’s just double check in the morning, then we should get moving if everything is okay. What makes her happy?”

“Um…” Ludda looked around as if searching for clues. “Things and stuff?” She bit her lip. “She’s normally super busy! And she talks to people a lot too! A ton! She likes to talk.” She glanced towards Amyntas’s resting form. “I know that might be hard to believe…”

“Very hard,” Gwenyver answered, “are you saying we should talk to her a lot?”

“Maybe?” Ludda didn’t sound very sure. “She… doesn't like to talk to new people.”

“Then what should I do?” Gwenyver said, a slight distaste on her tongue as the words rolled off, causing her to make a face.

“Not be a new person?” Ludda answered.

Gwenyver simply stared at Ludda, “I’ll try my best.”

She sighed and her perfect posture weakened for only a moment before she stood back up, opting to go to a tree away from the sleeping Amyntas. She let silence reign as she stood cross armed in thought, her eyes darting around, keeping watch.

“She’s going to be okay,” was all she muttered, half at Ludda, half into the shadows beyond the campfire Avery had started.

Avery was lay facing away from the group, attempting to sleep as well but her body was keeping her from it. The rocks she rested upon dug into her ribs, causing much discomfort. This was furthered by the desires that had went unquenched from the weeks before. I wonder she thought, slowly rolling to face the three women. The flickering light upon Gwenyver's face caught her eye, I suppose in the right light, anyone can be attractive.

Her mind began racing, images of women in a risqué outfits, laying before her brought some comfort but it definitely wasn't the end of her thoughts, Amyntas seems like a prude, but that anger taken out on me. She let out an audible 'mmm' before closing her eyes tightly. Aketa, I can only imagine the places the Faery could get to.

"I can't sleep." Avery said, slowly rolling onto her back. She sighed and rolled back onto her side, stretching as she did so. Her gaze shifted to Gwenyver, "I haven't been to Blackrock in quite some time. It wasn't the most pleasant of places. Had some nice taverns though."

“Why is it called Blackrock?” Ludda asked from her perch on Gwenyver’s shoulder. “Is there a big black rock there? Oh! Are there other faeries there?”

Avery chuckled, “It’s called Blackrock because of, well yes. A big black rock. And no, there aren’t any faeries there. Sorry.” she said with a sad tone.

“Oh. That’s too bad.” Ludda frowned. Soon enough, however, a smile was back on her face. “You said taverns? I liked the taverns back home. Amyntas didn’t like me going to them, but people would always give me drinks. Big drinks.” She stretched her arms to the side as far as they could go to illustrate just how big. All told she was indicating a wine glass or maybe a mug at the largest. “Um… and then Amyntas would have to take me home cause I was too drunk to fly.” Her expression turned sheepish.

“Is that right.” Avery said with a smile. She rolled onto her back and placed the back of her hand on her forehead. “There’s plenty to do in Blackrock.” A few seconds later her smile faded, “They have nice beds there. Aketa knows I could use one right now.” She thought for a moment, knowing that it would frustrate Gwenyver, “So what do you intend to do in Blackrock? Why go there.”

“Um…” Ludda took to the air, fluttering her wings. She circled about for a moment before touching down on Avery’s chest. “I don’t know.” She said with a big smile. “Things and stuff I guess.”

Avery frowned “Things and stuff...” A plain look returned to her face “Hmm. So, I guess that’s the best answer I can hope for. So where are you from?”

“E” Ludda’s eyes widened before she stretched the sound out “eeeeaaaaally far away. Um… Like really far away.” There was that sheepish expression again.

“Hmm.” Avery added, before looking down at Ludda, “Are there more like you?”

“Yup!” Ludda nodded. “All over the place!” She looked around, as if expecting to see another faery before commenting “I’m surprised I haven’t seen another since leaving. Amyntas seemed mildly surprised before too.”

“Well, to be honest, you’re the first Faery I have ever seen. And I’ve been on many travels.” Avery said before raising a brow, “I guess your kind aren’t common anywhere but ‘E’” she chuckled, “eeeeaaaaally far away.”

“Um… Maybe?” The petite faery was no shifting from foot to foot. “Or maybe we are just good at hiding.” She shot Gwenyver a not so subtle look.

“So in eeeeaaaaally far away, do your people live in cities? Or do you make hives like bees.” Avery asked.

“Umm….” By this point Ludda was tugging at her blonde hair. “Some of us stay in people’s houses. They feed us and um…. Amyntas says there are some…. Feral? Faeries that live beyond the cities, but I’ve never seen them.”

“Eely,” Gwenyver finally cut in, “it’s an eastern county of Ascain.” Her eyes glanced over Ludda and then at Avery, “history says faeries used to be everywhere, but ever since the disappearance of Ethea, they tend to be only found in the reaches of Eely and the southern border.”

She pointed a pale finger at Ludda, “stop leading our guide on, that’s her job.”

“Yup!” Ludda said with a small hop. “We are everywhere over there, but I’m not surprised that a xenos wouldn’t know.” While the Ascainians did use the word ‘xenos’, Ludda’s pronunciation was off, giving it a distinctly non-Ascainian sound to it.

Gwenyver rubbed her face, a small sigh leaking from under her hood. After a moment she said, “Ludda, isn’t it getting late?”

The faery looked at Gwenyver, then Amyntas, then back to Gwenyver. “I’m being vex… vexatious aren’t I?”

“No, just a little loud enough to wake our sleeping companions,” Gwenyver added.

Ludda let out a gasp before taking flight. “Ok.” She said. “Umbra is looking suuuuuper fluffy right now anyways. Night.” She landed on the mastiff, curled into a ball and closed her eyes.

“From the way you all act, you must have been lifelong friends. Nice to have companions like that.” Avery said before letting out a yawn of her own.

“Indeed it is,” Gwenyver answered, “it is comforting, do you have companions?”

“No.” Avery said simply, “Well, I did. Well. No. I don’t.”

“What, why not?” Gwenyver turned to her.

Avery sighed, “Well, Things change. That’s about it. People change, people move on.” She looked to Gwenyver, “I guess, sorry for asking your little friend questions.”

“There is nothing to be sorry about,” Gwenyver looked forward, “everything is just really sensitive right now.”

“I suppose I can understand that. And it’s only going to get worse where you’re going. But at least you won't be lost on the way.” Avery said, trying to gratify herself. “But for you? Where are fro-” She stopped, “Sorry.”

Gwenyver smiled a little, “I’m not from Blackrock, that’s for sure.”

Sighing her smile faded, “did you need to sleep?”

“I suppose we all do.” She said before turning away on her side. “Whenever you’re ready to go.” she continued before trying to fall asleep once more.

Gwenyver nodded and kept her position by the tree, eyes ever vigilant. Her eyes kept forward for a minute, and then a minute turned to five, and eventually thirty. Without blinking her eyes kept watch, waiting an hour, and then two.

As she watched a pit slowly formed in her stomach, and with every ticking minute she felt it bite into her, and as if on a schedule, she felt her head throb after every bite. By the first hour her body was a chorus of pains, whether physical or not they played along her body, rattling her mind. Her vision blurred, only to cut clear, just to blur again.

From under her hood, red drips formed from her eyes, forming flowing rivulets to the forest floor. The speckled mulch caught no light, and the moon did not shine under her hood as she waited. Her mind raced, recapping every action, remembering every word spoken. Her stomach clenched tight with guilt, and stabbed with pain, whether it was deserved or not, she did not know.

Five hours have passed, and like clockwork her stomach turned, so tightly clenched, she wondered if pain past pain existed. She forgot what the light looked like, where the sky ways or where she sat. Her head finally dipped, her eyes falling from watch and onto the forest floor. Her body shook as more crimson tears fell to her feet, bones freezing and skin crawling. Only when the seventh hour passed, and her ears twitched at the sound of her companions change in breathing did her body retreat, and pain subside, back to waiting for the next night. But even so, the pain taunted her in the back of her mind, no matter how far she reached away.

The Sixth Hour

Hour six…

Gwen gripped her head, wanting to throw her hood off. Her teeth clenched as she avoided the temptation to let the cool night air touch her head. Her eyes were closed, too flooded by her reddened tears to open. Her head swam and her body convulsed. She hated herself for how she existed, for every word spoken and every action taken. Her mind reminded her how she was an abomination, how her heart was incomplete, and how her light would soon extinguish to no one’s anguish.

Her hands fell from her hood and gripped the ground, dirt grating under her nails as she choked on what tear couldn’t escape her body. She wanted to scream, to release it all, she wanted to tear herself open and let it spill out. It couldn’t be helped though, no matter the pain, it would wash over her any chance it got. A single memory to reenact her deepest fears, to bring her the deepest guilt and the shallowest reason to feel that way.

No matter how many tears fell, or how thick her head felt, or how savagely unfit her heart felt, they would keep falling, growing thicker, and ticking with each pound of pain that panged her pitiful head.

How she desired to split the night with a scream, to reach out, to hand a hand grasp her own and pull her out. She wanted what she already felt, but with time what was felt becomes memory, and a memory to be exploited and used against her by her own traitorous mind. How she loathed her mind, how she hated her heart, and despised her conscious. Silently her raindrops fell, echoed only by her shaking breath, and beating heart. She was sick.