Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap…
The rhythmic sound of tapping filled the dark and desolate room, as long, powerful legs strode forwards confidently. Despite being engulfed in near pitch black, the walker held no fear or uncertainty about his movement, even with the ground beneath as treacherous as it was, lined with shattered glass and fallen debris. His footsteps kept going on, and on, and on, until finally… the figure stopped.
Lying in front of him, illuminated by the calamitous lightning thundering above through the deep, deep crevice that had been cleaved straight through the Manor’s courtyard, was a bludgeoned and mangled body, his chest torn and ripped open and his ribcage exposed to all. The old, dilapidated corpse whose long grey hair messily covered his face, made no movement whatsoever.
“Oren, Oren, Oren. What a state to find yourself in, old boy. My condolences.”
Jack tipped his hat down and bowed as if in respect, before straightening his body out and smiling his usual, jovial self. Around him, the darkness moved, throbbing and pulsating as bulbous globs of ink moved with a life of their own. Transformed into shapes of hands and other various instruments, the viscous substance carried many books, documents and other sorts of items. All things that once belonged to the now deceased alchemist.
“I do believe I’ll also be needing this.” A flick of his wrist, and another jet of darkness appeared from Jack’s feet, snaking out to Oren’s body and rummaging around his effects. Seconds later it reappeared, carrying with it a key, and returning it to its master. “Jolly good, jolly good. Now then, I think I have everything I came here for- ah!”
Out of the corner of his eye, Jack spotted something that automatically drew his attention. He walked forwards, and this time, upon reaching his destination, bent down his entire body to pick it up himself, in stark contrast to the use of his darkness manipulating abilities. He clutched the object delicately, raising it up at eye level, and a little bit further up.
The severed head of what used to be the Hawthorne Family’s diligent maid and cook: Circe.
“Alas, poor Circe! I knew thee well!” Jack lamented. “Such a fate as this was not what you deserved, my dear. Even in such ruin you remain as beautiful as ever, a delicate flower blooming within the darkness.”
“Ja-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-ack-k-k-k-k-” Circe’s porcelain features had become ruined and broken, and her jaw stuttered and collapsed as she tried to speak. One eye rolled weakily up to see him, as the other laid ruined and dripping some dark, foul smelling liquid. “Keep your fing-ing-ing-ing-ing-errrrs out the po-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-tttttttttttt---”
“No, I don’t believe you deserve a fate such as this,” Jack shook his head from side to side. “To be left alone, discarded like some broken toy. No, no, you are a woman. Come, Circe, I shall make you whole again. That is…”
Jack’s head looked up, peering through the towering abyss at the rain lashed sky above.
“That is if our dear friends don’t thwart Lucifer’s plans. But… I believe they will, for if they don’t, then all I have done will be for naught, no?”
Jack and Circe vanished from the basement, leaving Oren’s mangled corpse behind.
Vandrell: Hawthorne Manor
2 Hours after the defeat of the Family
“Mr. Tiberius, sir! Look! Civilians!!”
“What the devil…?”
Two hours following the defeat of Lucifer and the prevention of Abraxis’ summoning, reinforcements arrived in Vandrell. Running as fast as they possibly could, Tiberius [The Wolf] Rex- the Tagress Guild leader and Rank A Fire Swordsman- had along with a contingent of ten other Guilders, finally arrived and wasted no time in hastily scaling the climb to the Manor. There, in front of the smouldering ruin of the Manor’s front entrance, was a mass of ten people, all deeply exhausted and in a state of confusion. Men, women and children, they looked around and immediately turned to the Guilders for aid in their despair.
“What happened?” Tiberius asked, looking to one of the two Guilder scouts who had gone on ahead and were the first to find the people.
“Petrification, sir! We’re finding signs of a petrification spell receding on their bodies! They’re all still in a state of shock, sir!”
“Petrification…?” Tiberius scratched his chin, deep in thought, before turning to his party’s two clerics and nodding at them. The two healers automatically returned the nod, and set about giving what aid and assistance they could to the confused people, whilst Tiberius turned his attention to the rest of his men. The mission details had already been outlined, multiple times, on the train to Vandrell, but even now he repeated what his trained Guilders needed to know.
“You all know why we’re here. Search the grounds, and secure everything that you find. We’re here to find our people – Guilders. You should all know what they look like. Find anything or anyone else, take it into custody.” Tiberius ordered. The Guilders nodded in unison. “And be careful.”
“What… what on Ddaear happened here?!”
The Guilders all began to express the same reactions- stunned silence at the ruin and wreckage that remained of the once stately Manor. It was all but almost destroyed, with several walls destroyed through, a part of one tower broken away, a bridge that crossed over the courtyard destroyed and in ruin alongside a giant, gaping crevice that looked to have no end. There were few sites that any of these Guilders had seen before that could compare. Whatever had transpired it, it was certainly a mighty battle. And-
“Sir! Look!”
“Their injuries… my gods…”
The Guilder pointed straight towards the two bodies lying together in the centre of the courtyard. Tiberius automatically pounced, racing as quickly as he could, and within seconds was upon them. Estelle and Marcus.
“Stretchers! Get stretchers and the healers immediately!!” Tiberius bellowed. Their wounds were unimaginable… and what was even more impossible was that they were both still alive. They were Guilders, truly.
“Search the grounds as quickly as you can! The others could be in just the same condition! GO! NOW!”
Tiberius’ feet stomped the ground, as he ascended the cobblestone steps as quickly as he could. Whilst the rest of his team split towards the south, east and west, he had automatically made way for the north, and the highest point of the Manor. His gut instinct, not to mention the ambient magical energy lingering from that direction, made it the best choice. He just hoped and prayed he could find them… find them and be alive…
Everywhere he went, the results of the battle’s destruction was obvious. Cracked and dislodged walls, broken furniture, ruined debris… when he sent the Pride here, he never imagined that this was what would follow…
He reached the fourth floor, running forwards, straight towards the open door and into the room beyond…!
Where he then suddenly halted in mid stride, at the realisation of cold steel inches away from his neck.
A smile of relief stretched across his face.
“Moira. You’re okay.”
“…speak for your bloody self…”
Upon realisation that the approaching footsteps did not belong to an enemy, Moira let her greatsword fall to the ground, and she collapsed onto an ornate chair. Her breathing was haggard and hoarse, as she struggled on to stay awake, sitting amidst the fallen bodies of her friends.
“Are they…?” Tiberius began to ask, a bead of sweat trickling down his neck.
“Sleeping…” Moira replied, her hand lying on her shoulder. “…you all sure took… your fucking time…”
“You did good, Moira.” A grin spread as Tiberius surveyed the room and the weak and injured, but alive, Pride. “You can rest now. Grab some sleep and…”
“ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ~”
“…we’ll deal with the rest of this.”
A small glint in the corner of his eye.
A glass cube, resting on the floor, just outside of Nikki’s reach. Tiberius’ head turned, looking at it in thought, before picking it up and then… crushing it into his hands. The thousands of souls whose screams he could hear quietly reverberating out from it shot through the sky- wailing howls of despair transforming into cheers of elation as those souls passed back into their rightful owners bodies – the villagers of Vandrell and other nearby villagers. Those souls whose bodies had long since perished found new peace awaiting them in the life beyond.
“By the gods, Largo! What are you doing getting yourself hurt like this?!”
“What? It’s just a little scratch. Isn’t that right, Ti?”
“Don’t ask him, he’s just as bad!!”
Aervas: Hospital: Recovery Wing
28 Years Ago
Located in the hospital’s recovery wing, two particular men laid resting atop clean, pristine white bed sheets within the calm quietude of the city’s famous hospital. Each of the men’s left legs was entirely covered in cast, held aloft for the best means of recovery, both Largo and Tiberius laughing jovially despite their injuries and Rachael’s lecturing.
“This isn’t funny, you two! You need to take more care, for gods sake! You’re not always going to be so lucky that you survive anything! You just broke your legs!!” The red haired swordswoman Rachael screamed.
“Ahahaha, but it’s okay. Legs heal, don’t they? And that’ll help make us even stronger and more impervious for the next time it happens.” Largo roared.
“…stronger and more impervious?” Rachael’s eyes narrowed upon hearing the dubiously stupid sounding response. Her fist then swung out, colliding with Largo’s head. “You idiot, getting hit more and more doesn’t make it stronger! Are you trying to hurt yourself on purpose?!”
“Hahaha! Hey Largo, your head didn’t bleed as much then. It must be working.” Tiberius grinned.
“Hahahaha!” Largo joined his friend’s laughter.
“Shut up, the pair of you!!” The sound of Rachael’s fists cracking against skull echoed throughout the hospital wing, followed by her furious storming out. Outside the room, the hooded mage Matthew and their leader, the bolsterous, muscular laden warrior watched as Rachael passed straight by.
“Master… why do you keep letting those two get into those kinds of situations…?” Matthew sighed.
The Warrior raised a slight smirk and grinned. “All a part of learning…”
“Rachael is so silly. She could never understand…” Tiberius muttered, his face now resembling a panda after his newly received black eye. “You know what I’m talking about, right, Largo? The real reason men get hurt.”
“I know, Ti. I know.”
“NURSES!!!”
Matthew buried his face into his palm.
Tagress: Hospital: Main Entrance
Now
The automatic door slid open to the side as soon as Tiberius’ heavy footsteps entered the hospital, his eyes scanning the lobby and the nearby reception. The large man carried yet another preposterously sized bouquet of flowers in both arms, and as soon as he strode forward all eyes were on him. Hospitals… it had been a while since he had been in one before bringing the Pride here.
He hated them, but he had no choice but to be here now.
“Ah, Mr. Tiberius Rex, sir!” A voice to his side stopped him, and Tiberius turned on the spot to see an exasperated nurse rushing towards him, stopping right in front of him. “We need your help, sir!”
“My help?” His eyes widened. “Help with what?”
“The patients you brought to us three days ago…” The nurse continued to huff and puff. “Some of them have already left their beds and begun running about!”
Tiberius just stared back at the woman blankly, a bead of sweat trickling down the back of his neck.
“…what.”
“AHHHHH! IT’S A MUMMY! SO SPOOPY!!! AHHHHHHH!!!”
“Trixie, I’m going to eat youuuuu!”
Tiberius and the nurse turned to see the little prankster Trixie racing down the far corridor, with Estelle, bandaged almost head to toe, chasing behind.
There were no words.
Tagress: Hospital: Roof
Having snuck out of their room and stealthy scaling the stairs to the roof, Don laid stretched out on the roof, watching the clouds pass overhead, a lit cigarette casually resting in his lips, his thoughts busy and troubled…
Tagress: Hospital: Recovery Ward
Marcus was one of the few members of the Pride to still be lying and resting in bed. He had seen Estelle carefully crawl out of bed and pounce on Trixie once she returned from the toilets, her mind set on getting her own back on her after Trixie’s surprise in the Hawthorne Manor, and did little other then shake his head as he watched her go. He was concerned about Estelle and her injuries, but with his own body in the state it was, he could hardly do anything. And with Estelle, there’d be no stopping her either. He was sure the orderlies were stop her soon enough. Even if he could still hear Trixie’s screams all the way here.
He tried to focus on quietly reading his book instead.
At the foot of his bed, Nikki laid sleeping, curled up in her cat form.
A peaceful, ordinary day that was made anything but peaceful and ordinary wherever the Pride was to be found…
Tagress: Hospital: Main Entrance
“Mr. Tiberius, sir, we need your help getting them back into their beds now, sir! Please!”
“What the hell…?”
He had important news and information, special news that he was sure would help bring a smile to the Pride’s faces, but chasing after little girls was not what he envisioned himself doing as an A Rank Guild Leader...