[IC] Coven: Shattered

[Ichthys]

Revealed Chapters

Prologue. The Coven known as D'Cerf

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Current Chapter

Prologue. The Coven known as D'Cerf

"With the coven falling apart, the people must redefine who they are, what they stand for and what they will do; who will begin to set the stage for the future?"

[Ichthys]

Thunk. Thunk.

"Enough of this useless chatter! Someone just tell me what happened?!"

"It was an ambush, sir. It was nothing more than a simple hunting party going out to catch some food for the castle."

"Then, how did THIS happen?!" The man in charge, stalwart in character, violently indicated to the grotesque mass.

Before him were the corpses of four members of the coven; relatively low in status, they were nothing more than hunters. The man knew them well. One now had a fatherless child, the other left behind a widow. Here they were. Their faces having been deformed beyond recognition, their bodies stripped of clothing and the letter 'v' etched into the flesh on their backs. They had been piled rather carelessly into a simple mound by the roaming guardsmen that found them, so here they were gathered together as the daily, hunted game, their red marks and naked bodies open to public view.

They were in the public square of the castle, a large courtyard area that rested directly outside the entrance to the castle proper, wherein the Lord and Lady used to rule from. In the center of the larger square was an elevated stage made of wood. From here, messages and decrees were usually given to the coven, but usually it was a place where executions and punishments were delivered. Now though, it was where the D'Cerf victims were being showcased.

Two guardsmen stood on the stage, having carried the corpses on a large piece of coarse fabric, similar to a sort of stretcher. They were exhausted from the task of having carried four corpses, but the presence of the other man ensured that they remained alert and attentive, attempting to stand straight and proper. The man on the stage with them was the Captain of the Guard, Sir Ceneric Adamo, a rather imposing figure of an unusually average stature. His appearance may not have been one of authority if not for the testimonies of his prowess written on his skin, and the noble emblem of the D'Cerf embossed on his shoulder plate.

"We don't exactly know, sir. We can only guess that the Vilicus were involved," responded one of the guards promptly, an unsavory blend of contempt, despair and terror in his face.

"I can tell that much!" barked Ceneric, furious at the loss of D'Cerf lives.

By now, a crowd was starting to gather around the platform. Whispers made their way through the growing mass of people, followed by cries of vengeance and shrieks of horror. Ceneric took this moment to address the coven, as more and more made their way to the square to see what all the fuss was about.

"This is what happens each day the Vilicus are allowed to live! This is what they bring with their existence: suffering, death and loss. They are a disease upon the realm, a sickness that we must seek to cure! To them, we are nothing but sacks of flesh, puppets of bone. We are of worth to them, only in our pain. See! Look what they have done to one of our own!" Ceneric, hoisted and flung one of the dead bodies onto the ground before him, causing some of the people to jump back in surprise or disgust. He made his point, fiery tears streaming down his face.

Ceneric proceeded to unsheathe his blade and point it to the sky, in an act of revenge and bravery and inspiration. He said nothing for a time, unable to find the words to speak. Instead, another came up next to him, the Viscountess Viola Anguis, a noblewoman of both ill and favorable repute. She placed a hand on Ceneric's shoulder, as she began to address the crowd, unusually calm in light of the recent events.

"People, friends, family, I speak to you now with a heavy heart," she took a pause that seemed too excellent to not have been unrehearsed, "We have just received word from one of the distant coven that we are no longer considered fit to rule in their eyes. They renounce our protection and will no longer pay to use our rightful dues. More are no doubt to follow."

Another perfectly executed pause.

"It is because of this that I would like to let you all know how much I care for you all, and that, should the time come to choose a leader, that I would be glad to have such an honorable title bestowed on me. We need rightful leadership to have our coven in the right. I will provide that. My people, no longer will we continue to lose our prestige, our place in the realm. With a leader, we will rise once more, as phoenix from the ash!"

Viola finished her little nomination, her face portraying an act of utter sincerity, except for that slightly smug arch that was subtly growing on her brow.

Her speech was met with both applause and insults. In a moment, the division of the coven was made prominent, as the crowd turned to chaos. For more than a few minutes, bickering and brash, boisterous behavior became the primary action of the crowd. Even small scuttled ended up happening.

The viscountess did nothing to stop this; in fact, she made her way off from the stage to leave the mutilated corpses and the broken captain by themselves. Of course, before she could leave, she was stopped by one of the lower members of the Coven, one nothing more than a beggar and rogue. If correct, her name was Mona Tale.

"Your words are venomous!" the girl shouted at the viscountess, "It is nobles like you that have brought this upon the coven! You are our downfall!"

The beggar pushed the viscountess over, causing the dress of the lady to trip her and resulting in her falling to the ground. Now, the beggar stood over the viscountess.

"Now, you will know what it's like to be below!"

The beggar picked up her foot to stomp on the face of the viscountess, but before the rebel could, a sudden gust of strong winds stole the rogue's balance, making her wobble and topple beside the viscountess.

"Are you okay, m'lady?" asked the viscountess' bodyguard sympathetically, as he picked her up.

"I'm perfectly fine, Bacchus. That misguided insect was no threat," responded Viola as she brushed the dirt off of her dress, and made a quicker stride into the safety of the Castle Proper. Hurriedly, the lady disappeared behind the large, intimidating set of wooden doors that marked the entrance to the Castle Proper.

This left the crowd by itself. At this point, things were not calming down in the slightest. Then, suddenly a booming voice broke the chaos.

"EVERYONE SETTLE DOWN!"

It was Ceneric; his sword was bright as a beacon, blinding the crowd for a moment.

"This is why those coven are taking our power from us. We are not one unit. EVERYONE CEASE YOUR CONFLICTS AND LISTEN. If we want to restore the D'Cerf name back to the pedestal the our Lord and Lady worked tirelessly to get to, then we must act. Tonight, we will be communing with the Occult in a formal ceremony to decide on a new ruler. All people are expected to participate. It is for the good of the people."

The Captain dismissed everyone from the square. Some newly deceased bodies were sent to the crypt.

--- 7 HOURS LATER ---

It was dark; the time was approaching midnight. The moon was shadowed by some of the nightly clouds that remained in the sky. The only illumination was by the candlesticks that abundantly dotted the holy temple.

In the middle of the circular building, was an elevate portion of stone floor. In the center of that was a large fire, contained within a stone border. The fire seemed iridescent, composed of more than the usual red and yellow. Smoke rose into a hole in the domed roof, releasing into the night. Around the fire sat the nobles in elegant pews of wood. Behind the rows of the nobles were average wooden pews wherein the majority of the coven sat. Finally, some of the people stood at the backs of the wall, edged away.

Everyone was silent. Usually, the high priestess would welcome everyone to the occultist events in the temple, but there was no high priestess. Instead, a rather young lady, a devout occultist was beside the fire, ordered to act in the high priestess' absence. She was the Priestess Lu Sini, and she wore robes of white, symbol of the Moon and White Stag, two objects considered to be highly magical and even divine, somehow connected to the mysterious Occult.

The fire and the girl seemed to be friends, well acquainted to one another. The heat and light of it didn't seem to bother her, as she stood mere inches from the flaming tips of the fire's tongues. Her face was solemn, somber even, as if she was pensive and sorrowful about something ambiguous, not particular, just a sort of general sadness.

Boom. Slam.

The doors to the temple were closed, indicating the beginning of the ceremony.

Almost immediately, the fire grew into a sort of pillar of various hues, although predominately those colors natural to a fire. It was unknown who caused the fire to do such a thing, but whispers in the coven made the assumption that it was the priestess or perhaps a manifestation of the mysterious Occult itself. As the fire increased in size, the candles in the temple were blown out in a moment, unsettling many. This left only the fire to use its glow in order light the temple, but the colors it gave out were pale and soft.

"Coven, we are here to find guidance regarding our search for a new leader," the priestess spoke softly and slowly, as if in a dream or haze. Somehow her voice carried throughout the temple, audible to all, "In a moment, I will ask you all to close your eyes and place your hands at your hearts. The Occult is ready to speak."

The priestess made some gestures and spoke in an archaic language, unknown to any outside of the clergy, and after a few seconds, the priestess spoke again, "Everyone, close your eyes and place your hands on your hears now. Please do not open them at all, no matter the sensations you'll feel."

As everyone would close their eyes, including the priestess, the white pillar of fire would dissipate in a burst of air, leaving only the moon to shine into the temple through the hole in the roof. The gust of wind would feel as a rush, saturating everyone in the room but causing different sensations to each person. To some it was warm, others cold, and to even other's it gave specific sensations and memories.

After about a minute of silence and feeling, the priestess chimed again, "Open your eyes and remove your hands."

Fog had made the atmosphere thick, the glow of the moon had been dulled, and everything was given a slight haze.

On the priestess' hands were strange markings, like ink in color but as blood in substance. It stained her flesh. She nodded, as if to encourage others to look at their own hands. Everyone would have this inky, bloody substance staining their skin into a different marking.

"The Occult has spoken, yet I am displeased to say that I cannot decipher what these markings mean. Time will only tell, but we will do our best to decipher this mystery. Please, make your way back to your quarters, rooms and homes."

As everyone would begin to make their way out, the doors open again, seven individuals would hear the voice of the priestess beckon to them, by calling them by name. These seven individuals were a bladesinger mercenary, a biomancer alchemist, a soul trapper, a blind warrior, a raven huntress, a glyph witch and a scholarly scrivener.

The priestess awaited for these seven at that same centerpiece platform, where not even ash was left behind by the fire. Only she remained in the temple, other than the seven. Once they would reach her, the priestess would speak.

"The Occult has spoken to you in a different way. I have little interpretation for you, other than you will be pivotal in the D'Cerf future. Or perhaps not. The Occult works far too mysteriously. I have beckoned to you all, to encourage you all to be prepared to act. I cannot prophesy regarding the future, but it would be unwise for you all to not heed my warning that something is approaching that will change the coven. More than the deaths of our dear Lord and Lady. Please, make your ways to bed. It is late."

The priestess would begin to escort the seven out of the temple. Suddenly though, as they would make their way, the priestess would collapse. A silent figure would stand at the doors of the temple, which had been closed again.

He did not look like a friend, and his appearance was obscured by long robes and a deep hood. Many various amulets and other accessories, most with sigils and runes and the like on them were visible. The blood of innocents stained the fabric. He wielded a large a blade and a ball of fire in the other.

Although silent, the noise of what can only be likened to empty screams of the dead, hollow and distant but still audible.

The man began to let out the fire, as a flamethrower, beginning to burn the mostly wooden temple. Smoke began to replace fog. The seven had little time to act. After most of the temple was sent ablaze, he would leave under the cover of the embers and smoke.

Why had no one else noticed the man and reacted? Where were the guards?

Rafters would begin to fall, and the foundations of the temple would begin to rumble with the scorching by the fire. The seven would need to leave if they planned to survive.

[Raptorman]

The fire would not normally have had a chance to spread so quickly without opposition. It was aided in truth by the fact that many of those in the room were likely rather engaged in thoughts about what the signs had revealed. Vexia, the seemingly ageless witch had found upon her hands the ancient sigil that she had shown few among the coven, the sigil that adorned many of the old artifacts that she kept hidden to herself.

While she could easily surmise several meanings that the reappearance of that symbol could have, many of which she would once have longed for, there were many things to consider and also the fact that she did not particularly desire others to see that which now was emblazoned upon her hand. The combination of concern over the priestess' words and appearance of the symbol had together prevented her from reacting as swiftly as she might have. Still, even a late response from her was one that came with noticeable speed.

The masked witch thrust her arms up towards the ceiling where the roof had begun to blaze and rafters had begun to fall. The air around her began to shimmer as if seen through a heat haze and to the one who could see magic there would be several places within her voluminous robes that blazed with brilliant light. The shimmer began to spread as a ghostly murmur sounded before it suddenly lanced upwards as a dense curtain of force. The falling debris was swatted aside and the curtain of power held further falling pieces at bay as it continued to spread and press closer, seemingly in an extremely powerful but crude attempt to extinguish the fire. The casting lacked her usual elegance but seemed to be effective nonetheless.

A single word was spat out through clenched teeth behind her mask, a single word that seemed oddly distorted and distant. "Run!"

[Schradinger]

Vincent stood wand in hand, though strangely unused, as the cloaked figure disappeared in the cloud of smoke, blinking back tears as his eyes burned and throat stung. "Atlas, take the priestess." He didn't turn to see if his bodyguard was following the order, focused as he was on ignoring the increasingly blackened air and finding a way out of the inferno he now found himself in. The others were still here too, he knew, but he had never been the sort to give way to sentiment and fear, and did not allow concern to cloud his mind. Instead, he turned his attention upward as Vexia flung her hands toward the rafters, halting the path of the debris that would no doubt have injured some of their number, if not killed them. Still as quick as ever. He'd been too focused on their adversary to realize the damage he had already done to the structure, and save for her efforts that oversight might have cost him his life. He'd have to thank her later.

For now, though, escaping was his first priority. In furtherance of that goal, he strode quickly toward the temple entrance, raising his wand to aim at the nearest gout of flames as he did so, and uttered a whispered spell as he swung the wand forward, sending the flames leaping from the bench they had been consuming to the doors that held the seven trapped within. More words were uttered as he moved closer, the wand aimed squarely at the center of the new inferno he had created, and the heat grew in intensity until he was sure his eyebrows had been burned off. He kept moving regardless, and a moment later the doors collapsed into little more than ash as the fire burned what remained to cinder and the heat began to abate. A small gust of wind cleared the still hot ash from his path, and he released a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. Fresh air at last. Or at least not air that was trying to kill him.

He turned back to face the others still inside, and summoned a second gust of wind to clear the smoke from the path he had created. "Fly, you fools!"

[Milieu]

Atlas, just a moment before had stood there in total bewilderment, staring at the entropic magic he could see through his own vision, the odd lines became sigils on his palms. Atlas wasn't even slightly educated on magical things, always being a man that preferred the simplicity of combat with grit and steel, so the symbols meant nothing to him. Bewilderment turned to confusion in the next moment as he noticed the priestess' aura flicker and fall. With the grace and speed of a cat he was at her side and caught her in his arms. However, this took his attention away from the ominous presence that wasted no time in turning the whole temple into a swirling torrent of flames.

"Atlas, take the priestess." Normally, a flippant remark would've made its way out his mouth and onto the floor for the Nobleman to pick up and shove up his... But instead a guttural groan seethed from between his teeth as Atlas pulled his sash down around his mouth in automatic reaction to protect from inhaling the smoke. It burned him that he couldn't have cut the mysterious arsonist down immediately because he had sacrificed those crucial moments to catch the priestess. He heaved her over his left shoulder, while his free hand clutched at the hilt of his blade.

That's when Vexia acted swiftly in their defense against the falling debris. The colorful auras from under her sleeves began to beam with fluorescent "light" within his sixth sense. They became distracting as Atlas noticed the magic accumulating at the point of Vince's wand as well. Like an orchestral director he manipulated some flames to create an opening. Atlas had to quit paying attention to the magic around him as it was creating a cacophony in his vision. He followed his charge's orders and bolted for the door. But like any man used to combat, he was used to multitasking, dancing on death's door with a barrage of questions within his mind trying to assess the situation. Everything about this was off. Where were the guards? Why would the priestess call them forth with some eerie message of fateful binds and then faint before the unknown arsonist had even begun assailing them with flames? The whole situation stunk of sabotage.

Before he had made it out the door, Atlas took the chance to quickly pocket the Priestess' pendant with sleight of hand. With the help of Vincent's magic he was going to get to the bottom of this. Stepping out of the opening made for them by Vincent, Atlas turned to the rest still inside, beckoning them to hurry. He could barely see their auras midst the haze of magic that permeated the air heavily. "Move quickly!"

In the back of Atlas' mind was the enigmatic group Vilicus, the question of their involvment, and if they were involved, the thirst for their leader's head on a pike.

[Enix]

Fire. A very odd, yet welcoming thing when placed into specific situations. For people, it was a sign of comfort, warmth, an illumination to a perpetually dark world. Fire could bring people together in times of fear and loneliness, though in large amounts, the bestial instinct in all beings to run from fire would emerge. And thankfully, it was one of those times.

The fire began to spread at an alarming rate, though Ivallyn was happy that she was in the company of others that knew how to keep their “cool”. Ivallyn chuckled inwardly and made a mental note to remember that joke whenever they were in a better position to break the ice after everyone had calmed down. Another silent chuckle unnoticed, Ivallyn saw that people were already doing their part to escape the raging fire trap they now currently found themselves awkwardly placed in. Thanks to Vexia’s quick movements, everyone would have time to react and escape, allowing Ivallyn to do her part as well, as little was it was. Channeling inward, she began to form sygils in the air with her index and middle finger, swiftly swaying her hand in concentrated movements, allowing her spell to form.

A gust of wind came through the now opened door, thanks to Vincent’s wand work, allowing Ivallyn form the wind to keep the smoke at a higher elevation from their vision, as not to blind anyone anymore than they may have already been as they began to flee the scene. Atlas had already taken the priestess into his care and was outside the doorway, beckoning them into the open air. Once outside, she began to scan around. Where were the guards when the man made his way into the temple, and better yet, why had no one noticed him in general. Surely a man with a blade held in hand walking around, especially one not known to others in the coven or in the least her, would have been stopped and asked questions. Ivallyn felt a wave of unease as she stood there; normally she would be trying to get to higher ground to see more of her surroundings and possibly see if she could spot something suspicious, but she knew that would have to wait until the others had exited the coming inferno.

[Castor]

Flowryde's vision was filled with radiant hues, flames grew from a point in the distance, a deep orange and red rushing towards his being as they greedily lick every inch of him but he felt no sensation of pain. Flowryde was suspended in a compact, gaseous fluid as a thousand faces and snippets of conversation flash by his consciousness in a blur. Suddenly an image stood out among the onslaught of a myriad faces. It was the High Priestess Olwyn, her kindly features were smiling at him and as abruptly as it came, the image contorted into a demonic vision of a hooded deformed being, its eyes gleaming a beady red ember, laughing before the image shattered into a million pieces of glass.

"The Occult has spoken to you in a different way...." His head was spinning. " ...something is approaching that will change the coven..." he felt bile built at the back of his throat which mingled with the smoky scent of incense. "...It is late." His vision was swimming but he could vaguely perceive his surrounding and noticed the presence of witches around him as his legs carried him towards a voice.

A harsh scream broke him out of his reverie, Flowryde realised that the smell of smoke was not from the incense but rather the whole temple in flames. Alarmed he stared around in horror as the flames rapidly devoured pillars and beams. His home was burning before him. The pedestal, where the high priestess would conduct the rituals, now laying in a pile of ash, golden statues were crumbling as the fire ate its way across the floor. The arch way leading to the Templar quarters stood ominously at the back as the dark haze obscure what destruction hidden behind them. The sight spurred Flowryde into action, wrapping his head in his cloak, he raced across the floor into the dark arch way. Black fumes stung his eyes as he foraged deeper into the inferno. Luckily, he was dressed in his only set of battle dress robes which were flame retardant and protected him somewhat from the heat. Past the grand hall, the flames were less intense and he navigated past the corridors which had not caught the worst of the flames.
As he reached his room, he was relieved that the protection glyphs he had placed all across his living space had kept his belongings safe. Uncertain if the room would survive, he packed his glyph making set and a few leather bound books into a sling bag. ripping out a floor board, he procured a book The High Priestess had entrusted to him entitled "Le Gene D'Cerf". This artifact had been the Lady's last gift and request to Flowryde, he would protect it to his grave. Lastly, he dumped a bucket of water on his blanket before using the blanket as a shield against the flames. Surveying his room for what might be the last time, emotions well up in his eyes. Flowryde vowed to destroy whoever that was behind this as he hurried back to the main hall towards the main exit.

The journey this time was more perilous as the fire was raging at its peak. Reaching Vexia, he saw that mostly everyone had vacated the hall save the witch who had sacrifice herself for the sake of others. Flowryde threw his blanket over her, attempting to shield her from the smoke.

[lydyn]

The Occult. Even Jocasta, in all her journeys around the land to secret and ancient ruins, could not completely understand the force that drove the name. However she knew it was somehow, unexplainably, more knowledgeable and aware than any witch she had ever encountered and if it had branded this small band of fellows - there was drive and reason behind it. What was more curious was the symbol scolded into the back of her palm. It seemed fitting and had both an obvious and hidden meaning; a blade pointing downwards with a crescent moon in the background. She had been born on a full moon and always suspected that there was more reasoning to her magic than simple myths about the celestial body in the sky, but it was never backed with any proof. Now, among vague prophecies and hidden powers, she saw this symbol in front of a priestess that also bore the same. This probably wasn't a conquincidence or at least not one that she could think of anyways.

The overbearing feeling of fate and destiny was suddenly shattered as she heard the priestess fall and her eyes were drawn to a figure in the distance. And what a figure it was, to have drawn upon such a large blade and robes. The orb is what drew her attention to most though as the man practically swept it across the field with no incantation or any movements that she could see. That in of itself was a rarity that many witches did not possess in her experience - even some witches that could keep up with Jocasta had to make whispered incantations before spells. To will magic, even with small movements, spoke of experience and power that was not very well known and in fact was one of many reasons that Jocasta herself had become so famous.

Once again, thoughts were cut short as the flames around them started the roar with anger, threatening to topple the whole structure down on their heads. She didn't know any of her fellows besides Flowryde, but the masked witch threw her arms up and weaved magic into debris above them to protect them. Everything was happening so quickly that before she knew it, the doors had been turned to ash and another witch was forcing the smoke upward. Everyone was in a frenzy and Jocasta must've seemed the fool among the group as she mostly stood there and watched. It didn't last all that long though before she started to walk briskly towards the door, though again she would seem an idiot for having not ran towards it for her life, but nevertheless she made it out before Flowryde had and stood among the small circle.

In another life, perhaps, Jocasta might've spoken up - played the temporary leader until the group pulled together and started to work as a unit (if they even choose to do so), but in this life she was more than content to look to others on what they wanted to do. She would let them figure it out among themselves, after all, she was just a mercenary. The only stake she had in this besides the sudden thrust of fate was a very old friend.

[Castor]

Flowryde adjusted the blanket so that it draped around his and Vexia's head, allowing it to effectively absorb most of the smoke while their legs move unimpeded.
"Vexia, we should leave! The temple will collapse around us soon!" He screamed in a hoarse voice as the heat from the fire scorched his airways.
A loud groan shook the temple from its foundations as Flowryde spoke. The marble columns supporting the structure were beginning to crumble under the heat. Mountains of ashes and debris littered the once majestic Ritual Hall with a dark heavy haze obscuring their vision. Suddenly, Flowryde caught a glimpse of a familiar figure flitting through the inferno towards the general direction of the entrance. Her rich golden locks registered in his mind for an instant before panic overwhelmed him as part of the roof came crashing down behind them.
"Let's go!"
Flowryde rushed after the figure, attempting to mimic her steps but his feet were not as nimble, causing him to lose his footing, and almost his life, a few times. At last, a tunnel through the smog led them to safety.
Looking back at the burning temple which painted the night sky in blood, Flowryde let out a cry of anguish. His whole life had been eradicated before him in a flash of orange and red. Countless memories written on the walls, washed across the floors, hanging from the rafters... Gone. They will pay. Flowryde was certain that those responsible for the destruction of his home were the same as those who orchestrated the death of his mentor. He will drink hot blood in due time.
Presently, he collected his thoughts and wandered in search through the crowd, oblivious to the chaos around him as the inhabitants of Moonshearth attempt to quench the flames in vain. Passing a group of fellow wardens, he found his goal.
"Fine night for old friends to catch up around a merry fire eh, Jocasta?"

[Ichthys]

The temple was approaching shambles, replaced by smoke and flame. Black pillars and red tongues danced malevolently, in an infernal tango, but through their own efforts the eight made it out of the temple.

With the temple becoming ash, the fire began to subside, almost unnaturally, not a single flame scorching any of the neighboring area, as if the fire was being contained. Still, the heat radiated by the inferno could be felt by those within a good number of feet.

Just as the building's support would finally crumble, stomping out the fire within and causing an updraft of escaping hot air, and billowing smoke and dust, the voice of a one particular Viscountess would pierce through.

"What in the name of the White Stag is going on here?!" Viscountess Viola demanded, seemingly rushing from the Castle Proper, adorned in her rather ornate bed clothes and accompanied by a small company of castle guards. No one else seemed to be in the place, somehow asleep or busy with other things despite the burning temple. Obviously, something was off.

Her question seemed to require no answer however, as the guards surrounded the eight suspiciously, although not yet bearing weapons or making explicit signs of aggression. Two did make attempts to retrieve Lu's unconscious body from the hulking Atlas, explaining that they would carry her to the court infirmary to be attended to. Their voices seemed gruff and untrusting of the seven. Regardless, they would be able to retrieve Lu Sini and take her away to be tended to.

"Look what they've done!" Viola said, examining the priestess' body as she would be carried off, dutifully caressing the fragile face of the unconscious priestess in an appearance of compassion. "Bring them to the Throne Room, at once!"

In this moment, each guard spoke in another language, a popular language used by some coven in the southern lands. If one would understand the words they spoke, they would realize that the guardsmen quoted an idiom that, when translated, was something along the lines of 'a lying snake binds worse than iron.' Almost as if in response, the chains equipped by the remaining company of guards, no doubt for this purpose, slithered their ways around the upper bodies of the seven. As the chains would creep up, Viola explained that "Considering the circumstances, I'm sure you understand why we're not allowing you to walk there freely."

She was slow to listen and quick to pounce.

The guards proceeded to escort the seven to the throne room, making their way from the temple. The party would pass the cobble, dirt and stone pavings into the courtyard where the deathly smell of the four dead hunters still mildly pervaded the air. The smell of decay and destruction, although faint, followed them all, until they made their way past the grand doors into the Castle Proper. As if transported into another world, the smell of death was quickly replaced with the smell of various perfumes and incense. The stone inside was polished to a sheen, appearing brighter and whiter than that of the exterior. Stone-polishing was the duty of some of the servants. Red carpets, banners and tapestries adorned the grand entry hall, all decorated with illustrations of the White Stag and Full Moon (which was often yellow in depictions), the emblem of the D'Cerf.

A grand staircase was immediately in front of them. This staircase led to the upper floors where most of the quarters for the nobles were. Two large halls extended to the left and right of the staircase, heading in opposite directions.

The group made their way through the entrance area, taking a left turn into an equally grand hallway. Moonlight poured through massive windows that were equally placed along the wall that led to the outside world. From here, one could see much of the castle's complete area. Halfway down the hall stood two doors, smaller than the grand doors of the entrance but much more imposing and intimidating, finely crafted and emblazoned with precious metals. Behind the doors rested the throne room.



Making their way in, they all found themselves in a very empty atmosphere. The trappings of luxury and wealth, although more heavily present in the throne room, could not stand against a single empty throne, perched at the end of the long room on a platform. The other throne had been taken by a thief in the night, never again to be recovered. It had been the Lady's seat, and it no longer belonged in the place.

In the middle of the extended room was a long table, originally used in the dining hall, but having been replaced to serve as a sitting place for the nobles to take care of their crooked politics, as none dared sit on the throne. The table and accompanying chairs were very regal and elegant, matching the decor of the Castle Proper in general. The table was bare, although in the seats were various nobles. Either head of the table bore no chair, again in an unspoken act of no one proclaiming themselves over the other - just yet, that is.

The faces of the nobles turned to the group as they entered; they were colored various hues of red, blue and green, yet despite their intents and the state of the castle and coven, they nobles always seemed to be the picture of excellence, nary a hair in the wrong place on their bodies, in the broken coven.

The perfume smelled of deceit, the atmosphere was thick with mistrust, the carpets around the table strewn about in an expensive form of disorganized competition.

They had been awaiting their arrival. How they had been informed of the situation was unknown.

The seven were positioned in front of the table, at it's head, for all of the nobles to merely stare at them. Viola took her place at one of the other empty seats.

"How disappointing," said one noblewomen sighing rather sarcastically, "it would seem these seven were caught abducting the priestess Lu Sini, who as we all know was acting in the Lady's stead."

"Curious as to how they could succumb to such madness, and in such unison! One would think they had been planning this all along!"

"It's atrocious and utterly sickening that they would manipulate that poor girl to get declare all seven of them as heirs to the Coven! And then attempting to kill her!"

Lying through their teeth, the situation was getting worse and worse. It seemed the coven was most together then they were working against a common enemy, in this case against the seven who had been personally called by the priestess themselves.

"I heard that they already found evidence of this little coup, proving their twisted actions."

"And what a shame that the girl is unconscious! How would she testify against them?"

"We could always just execute them. No one is given a right to a trial. Injustice is injustice."

Suddenly, there was silence among them, as their corrupt faces stared at the seven. Then, finally, Viola piped up, "So tell us: What would you say happened? Are you going to fight these allegations? We did find you under very incriminating circumstances, what with carrying the unconscious girl in what seemed to be a frenzy."

It was strange how they never explicitly mentioned the fire.

She paused then added a little statement that seemed to be a form of trade. "Or you could just confess that you manipulated the priestess, and perhaps inform us at to what she said. I'm sure it didn't pertain to D'Cerf rule in the coven, right?"

The chains around the seven loosened, the iron slithering back to their respective guardsmen. The seven would not be wise if they made an aggressive actions, considering the power of the nobles, having strength in their number.

[lydyn]

Through the entirety of the situation, Jocasta had been silent, not even opening her mouth to sigh or roll her eyes at the situation. Instead her gaze was of thoughtful suspicion, focusing on the words offered to her and less caring of the chains that wrapped around her. So much so that she had picked up on the subtle incantations given by the guards, causing a whiff of recognition in her mind. She had traveled the lands many times over by now and had acquired a various library of knowledge in her sharp mind, as the fire of curiosity and relics could not calm down - even in spite of her family having been cut down so many years ago.

They walked the courtyard into the chamber halls where she noticed that not even one of them dared to even place a trinket in front of the throne. There words slithered out like poison, corrupted by fear and greed, a vapor escaping their lips in hatred as they hissed at the seven. It wasn't until Viola had urged them to confess and divulge the secrets of the Moon Priestess - and in there lie the whole meaning behind this. They cared not to accuse them nor if they confessed at all, but it was all a ruse to gain a deeper understanding of something so mysterious and powerful, that Jocasta was sure they would not understand even if told. And the seven, they were destined to something greater, something that she could not trust this pit of snakes to get a hold of.

She was the first to respond.

Her neck craned behind her as her eyes matched Flowryde's own. Back then, when they were younger, Jocasta had been a bubbly, sweet girl, willing to see the good in everyone and show understanding. Some of that still boiled beneath the surface, but it was coated now with a confidence only a wanderer's life could provide and a seriousness that shined with understanding. She almost smirked as she questioned her friend, out loud, "Does their arrogance know no bounds?"

With a quick flick of her head, she stared straight into the eyes of the nobles before her, as if they were equals and they were no more important than she was. "The information you seek will not come from these lips," she started, standing a bit taller as to show her resolve in this matter. "You're scared and filled with fright, as many of the D'Cerf Coven are - rightfully so in the absence of strong leadership and direction, but your greed and prideful natures is a poison upon your minds. Not only do you not understand what you seek, but you make a plaything of something you fail to comprehend ..." At this point, she made a gentle, slow gesture towards the empty throne. "That seat is not about power. It is not about glory," slowly putting her hand back to her side, her eyes flickering between her audience, "it is not about fame or riches. Only those who do not want it will deserve it, because of their humbleness, their compassion, and mercy .... pure hearts are meant to sit in these chairs .... it is a place for responsibility, to care about their people, and position that others look up to in both times of celebration and need."

Her head hung for a second before letting out a soft sigh, a dramatic pause that was not planned, but it was honest. "You threaten us... ignore the flaming inferno... ignore that we saved your dear priestess' life... for this." She pursed her lips, an expression of annoyance etched into her face lightly as she looked back to them. "It is not us that are D'Cerf's ruin - it is this broken thing that you call a Coven.. unless fixed.. it will fall." At that, her eyes went back to her childhood friend, nearly shaking her head as she looked out the window. She didn't care much of what they had to say unless it was tempered with calm thinking - and that, she doubted would happen. Their prides would not suffer a 'mercenary' speaking to them as such, even if it was true.

[Reaper]

Tanis studied the mark on her hand, contemplating its meaning for a moment as the crowd was filtering out of the temple. For someone so skilled at crafting illusions and knowledgeable about the realm of dreams, she had to admit interpreting visions from the Occult was a far more difficult task.The human mind could be read like an open book while the will of the world itself read far more like a painting - a jumble of colours and hidden meaning that would only make sense to the person who painted it, and have a different importance to those viewing it.

She picked up her blade at the door, inspecting it to ensure the temple guards hadn't mishandled her weapon. It was a family heirloom and designed differently from the rest of the blades used by the D'Cerf army - anyone who even left a scratch on the scabbard would pay dearly. She left through the temple doors, and that's when she heard it. The temple guards whispering among themselves. Obviously they thought the temple had been emptied by now, or they would never discuss temple affairs so brazenly. "The traitors tried to abduct the priestess, you say?"

"She's unconscious, some kind of spell. The seven idiots are being brought before the nobles now. I don't envy their position."

Tanis didn't stay for the rest of the conversation. Someone had hurt Sini? The warrior knew the temple guards would have taken her to her chambers while the physicians arrived to inspect her. Tanis was having none of that. Sini was a dear friend, and she would get to the truth of this herself. The fact that the head physician had been apprehended as well meant she could easily bully her way to the priestess, and chase the other physicians out. While no noble, her family's longstanding history of service afforded her a little influence. One she rarely exercised except in circumstances like this.

The temple guards posted outside Sini's room barely even tried to get in her way. One raised his hand to stop her but the look in her eye and the fury emanating from her was enough to dissuade them from blocking her path. They had seen enough of her around the temple to know that crossing blades with "Ser Tanis" was the dumbest decision they could make. Sini and Tanis had been friends since childhood and while the temple frowned on the frequency of her visiting the priestess, they had long since realized the futility of trying to separate the two.

Of course, that was aided by the fact that the two of them hadn't really been doing anything that the temple frowned upon. It wasn't as if they were illicit lovers - they were simply friends who enjoyed sharing literature with each other. Sini had the time to find the best books in the library while Tanis had tales of her travels, and plenty of time to read while she camped on her patrols. The only thing the temple actually disliked about Tanis' frequent presence was her serving as a distraction for both Sini and the other priestesses. It seemed her reputation was known even among the isolated initiates and ladies pledged to the temple. Well, she was certain Sini had a hand in that. The warrior wasn't quite so foolish as to flout the temple's rules. Even her family name would not be able to wash away transgressions like that. It was tempting though, to flirt with them a little and turn their mentors a shade of purple.

Though if they could see her now, these priestesses would no doubt realize Tanis' reputation was about fear, not respect. She kicked the door to Sini's room wide open without hesitation and caused the physicians to jump and back away. "Get out." She growled, and they hastened to obey. It wasn't that the physicians didn't have the authority to kick her out instead - they were simply to afraid to do so. There were rumours that Tanis used her abilities for petty revenge, and she did nothing to quell them. It was nice to have people think she wasn't above haunting their footsteps to get what she wanted.

Tanis settled down beside Sini and ran a hand through her friend's hair. "I'll find whoever did this." She promised, and checked her friend for any signs of foul play, any evidence at all that would give her a trail to follow. It didn't take her long to find it - a mark on the back of the priestess' neck. It was no tattoo or body paint, and Tanis knew her attacker must have placed it upon her to knock her out. They were obviously counting on her long hair to hide the fact, and that the physicians often dared not touch the priestess they were inspecting.

She pulled a blanket over Sini, after ensuring her friend was only knocked out and in no actual danger. She walked out the room and waved the physicians back in before heading straight for the throne room. "If anyone harms even a hair on her head..." She hissed in passing to one of the guards, without breaking her pace.

It didn't take her long to arrive at the throne room. The doors were barred by the guards. They were her fellow soldiers and unfortunately, dislike her enough to make her entry difficult. "I have news about the attack for Lady Viola." She announced her intent, though the guards didn't budge.

"Just because you're favoured by the Lady for your skill..."

"If I am favoured, it is because I bring her results the rest of her men are woefully inept at doing." Tanis snapped. "I could wait until Lady Viola is done in the throne room, in which case I hope the seven in there aren't executed, because it would be a pity for me to have to tell Lady Viola someone else might be involved and we just wrongly executed our own... and the only reason why that happened was because a couple of idiots wouldn't do their job as doorkeepers properly."

She was blunt, and she had no time for their nonsense. The guards glared at her but admitted her to the room, however begrudgingly. No doubt she would be paying for it with hushed whispers and juvenile pranks in the next few days, but she never accused her fellow soldiers of being the embodiment of reason. "My Lady, I apologize for the interruption, but a mark was found on the priestess' neck."

[Schradinger]

Vincent inhaled deeply as the chains fell from his body and slithered back to their respective owners, then extended and contracted his long fingers several times to get the circulation going again. Straightening his coat and schooling his face to an expression of unassailable calm, he let the others make their speeches and simply walked idly over to a window overlooking the temple grounds, sorting and cataloging all the goings on behind him as he did so. Beneath him, the embers of the temple glowed brightly in the night, small flames danced upon its ashes, and the once glorious structure was now little more than a smoldering ruin. And yet... Where were the guards and panicked townsfolk running for water? Where was the spreading of the flame to the temple's outlying buildings? Why had none of the nobles or guards even made mention of the destruction wrought on the coven's most important religious structure? Surely the sole charge would not be kidnapping for a group that also defiled holy ground. All of these things he had failed to notice in the haste of the escape and subsequent capture, but now... There was no sense in it. Vincent was quickly becoming certain that himself and the six others that had been called to remain had become the victims of an exceedingly potent illusion.

That, or the entirety of the coven save for the seven had been afflicted by an even greater spell, which would be an even larger cause for worry. Either way, this begat many more questions than it answered, chief among them being the role the viscountess played in the night's "festivities". If she had not seen the fire, what was the force that had driven her so hastily back to the gates of the temple? The nobles too, had been assembled and awaiting their arrival, and once again not one had mentioned the inferno that had engulfed the temple. There had been another catalyst for their assembly, that much was certain. Vincent had only to uncover what it was.

Turning back to the assembled nobles and his six compatriots, Vincent walked purposely back to the empty head of the table. Once there, his icily cool gaze swept slowly up one side of the table then back down the other, studying each of the nobles in turn as his eyes passed over them. A smattering of the faces that returned his gaze were attached to bodies clad in garments made for slumber, yet a larger majority were still in the attire they had worn less than an hour ago at the ceremony. The discrepancies would make it impossible to tell which of them had been expecting the summons and which had been called away from their prior activities. All this, in turn, conspired to make the viscountess the target of his initial inquiries.

"Viscountess, you accuse us of being discovered in the act of absconding with the priestess, yet you yourself, the discoverer of this alleged misdeed, only did so while rushing from the castle in your nightclothes. If it is not too bold of me to ask, what is it that prompted such an excursion in the middle of the night? Do you make a habit of frantically dashing about the grounds in your bedclothes?"

The viscountess looks apalled, offended at such an accusation. When had this become about her?! She made no sound at first, seemingly rejecting to be helpful, but after what seemed to be some internal dialogue, she crossed her arms and responded.

"I do not have a habit of, as you say, frantically dashing about the grounds in my bedclothes, Vincent D'Cerf," her voice seemed bladed when she prononuced Vincent's name, "I was actually looking for you and Giovanni to join us for the meeting we were having just prior to this. Of course, as soon as I found myself back at the temple, I couldn't help but make the assumptions that I did. You all seemed very suspicious. Who carries around an unconscious priestess? No one other than what I suspect are criminals."

Viola made no mention of the guard she brought with her, when she had first found the seven.

"And your guards?" Vincent had not missed the omission of their presence from her rebuttal. "Why was it that you were accompanied by enough guards to restrain no less than seven of our coven's notable members? Were we to be wrapped in chains and carted here regardless? I do not know the original intent of this gathering, but it seems to be just as nefarious as its current intent."

"You've made an irrational judgement, Vincent. I had brought nine guards, if you recall. Two took the priestess away. I had no idea how many of you there'd be, but I did not bring the guards to capture anyone. I merely brought them as protection. The coven, at night, is not friendly to our kind of people, what with those evil beggars planning to poison our every move. One cannot be too safe."

The viscountess took a breath, her well-executed breaths, and changed to the topic of their prior meeting.

"Anyways, Vincent, the meeting before was to discuss urgent matters. In case you have forgotten, this morning brought to use the massacre of four hunters. The Vilicus seem to be increasing its actions against us. We were discussing our plans on what to do next. I took the liberty of tracking Giovanni and yourself down to meet with us," she began to play a victim in this moment, "But if you didn't want to come, I guess I shouldn't have been so thoughtful as to search for you two. I mean, we were all curious as to why you hadn't shown up. Did you not hear of the meeting?"

"I can have no opinion on whether or not I wish to attend a meeting to which I was never invited, Viscountess, and even given your popularity with the beggars, nine guards is an excessive number."

"Wait a second!" rang a gruff voice. It was the Noble Herald, a stout man of older age, not blessed with the appearance of wealth and beauty as were some of the other nobles, other than his disguise of luxury given by his clothes.

"Don't think I'm not onto you, Vincent! Your keen wordplay does not affect me. I see what you're doing. You're attempting to get us off course! Only someone guilty would try to keep a verdict from being reached!"

Herald slammed his fists on the table, the remnants of his hair moving about in his fury. Sweat beads were apparent on his forehead. Why was the nobleman already so worked up? Was it his rage?

"Now answer the questions! What were you doing with the priestess?! Why had you stayed in the temple?! What did she tell you?! NOW!" His hand made motions to some of the guardsmen, in a showcase of power and intimidation.

Some of the other nobles reflected Herald's sudden outburst, and demanded the same from Vincent.

Vincent's gaze fell first on Herald, then on each of the nobles that had echoed his sentiments until the room was quiet once more.

"Very well. You wish answers, and I will give them. We were carrying the priestess out of the temple, which to our senses had been engulfed in a raging inferno by a man with scarred hands and a cloak concealing the remainder of his features. She had fallen unconscious after delivering to us a message, the contents of which are already known to all of you. We may or may not be pivotal in the future of our coven, as we have always been, and she followed that with a warning of future woes. Woes that she did not specify. As always, prophecy fails to deliver anything that is not already known."

Having finished, Vincent turned his gaze back on the viscountess.

"Which brings us to you, dear Viola, and your guards outside the temple. You were closest of any of those seated here. Can you honestly tell me you felt nothing of the magic that permeated the temple? Even now, I can feel the flows being crafted. It is not the raw power of the Occult that I feel, but the hand of a mortal weaving the threads."

Herald loudly sputtered, "Madness! Craziness! It's not to be believed!"

It took a moment but he finally spewed out, "Inconceivable! You, Vincent D'Cerf, are a madman! Your time locked away in darkness has plagued your mind, made it weak! Your words are nothing more than empty! That temple was not on fire! Look out the window! Even now, it stands in its glory! How dare you speak of such ill fate for the Occult, for our temple! And here, you also declare yourself to be pivotal to the coven?!"

Herald laughed and barked as a madman himself.

"You think you are better than us?! You are young! Foolish! I have seen many fools in my lifetime, but you, Vincent, are to be the king of them! What makes you think this? Perhaps an experiment gone awry has tainted your intellect."

Vincent turned his eyes on Herald once again, his face betraying nothing but calm poise. "Jocasta has already related a tale that supports my own, and every one of the other five that stand behind me will tell the same tale we..." He cut off abruptly at a noise from the entrance, and just then, Tanis entered the room to declare her news and Viola looked troubled in response. For once, she seemed to lack the words to say, but quickly, she recomposed herself.

Viola opened her mouth to speak, but in that moment, Herald spoke out again. He seemed to be sweating a lot more now. Perhaps his aggravation was overworking his body.
"Quiet, guardswoman! Yo-you are not the physicians! You have no claim!" Herald seemed more disheveled by the second. What was troubling him so?

A Collab by Schradinger and Ichthys