"It begins..." the voice whispered, echoing out into the darkness of the world."
The wavelengths of its voice, so quiet, yet so demanding and powerful. Both a hiss and a whisper, a sigh like that of a blade parting flesh. Chilling and cold, freezing the gust of air it rode upon. Down from the World's Edge, tumbling over itself as it carried across the land. Through the leaves and shrubbery it whispered, slithering into the ears of sleeping wildlife. Slipping into the dreams of man, becoming something sinister inside their minds, something dark and terrible. Still it roiled on, picking up speed until it changed. No longer a lazy breath of air, but a stream, the whispered words speeding towards their purpose. Through the trees they hissed, tearing leaves from branches into a tornado of flora that followed behind. Churning the dead growth into a vortex. The words passed through a pair of travelers and they fell the ground, writhing in agony and fear, the chill of the air alone enough to paralyze them.
The words, the wind, stopped suddenly, and rather traveled in a slow circle above Providence. Clouds scattered across the land, puffy with moisture and lonely in their distance began to draw towards the nations capital. They gathered in a slow circle above, becoming black, boiling over each other. Lightning arced across the underbelly of the cloud formation, and the thunder roared with the power to make the planters shake off of windowsills, shop windows split and fell to pieces. In a single instant the entire city was awake.
"It Begins...."
De'mari's eyes shot open, a panic creeping into her chest. She laid perfectly still, her eyes straining to look around the room. She had just finished the poor excuse for a meal that guards had served her, and the cloaked man had even insisted she eat his, because she had expelled hers from not eating in such a long while, coupled with her overbearing exhaustion. Even know she just wanted to sleep, but there had been that sound. She was fretting over a scuttling noise, perhaps it was a just a rat, fat off of the bones of others like her. Buried in the earth and forgotten, waiting to die. She sat up in bed, there it was again, that scuttling sound, moving past her door.
The cloaked man stood up, startling her, "Are you coming?" He asked, holding out his hand to her, though it was not much more than a blurred, denser patch of darkness. She took his hand lightly and recoiled back, an electric shock traveled down her arm. He snickered, amused, "Pardon me miss, I seem to be unable to control myself in anticipation. Shall we?" He gestured this time to the door and she looked at him curiously, before standing. There was a small little fire inside her chest now, coming to life after the small spark. It worried her, the warm, tingling sensation prickling on the edges of the little magic she could perform. Beckoning her, calling her to grab hold of it, to wield it. Perhaps it was his magic that had awoken it, maybe the sensation had sensed it somehow.
"One more thing," he said, unclasping his cloak at the neck. It was too dark to see his face, but she could her the shifting of armor, chain links rattling together. "It's not much, but you'll need it, put it on and keep your face down." She did as commanded as he walked over to the door. Astonishment played across her face as light flooded in, he had just opened it, had it been left unlocked? He really did have someone on the inside. Then next two things hit her simultaneously. First he was dressed in a guards uniform, and that seriously confused her, but perhaps this is why he was being helped. Better to live in exile than death. Secondly, The Flower of Aine had nearly completely restored her, it couldn't fix scars unfortunately, she would be branded for the rest of her life. But her aches, her pains, muscles had all stopped hurting. Her bones had mended to the point of a dull, ache, but she could manage that. She smiled, looking at the pale blue-off white color of her arms, no more red.
They stepped out into the hallway and he motioned for her to stay put. He walked to the dead end of the hallway, producing a key ring from his pocket. Quietly he walked back towards her, unlocking each of the doors he came across, the only audible sound was him saying, "It Begins". All manner of prisoners stepped quietly out from the cells, in total there must have been twenty of them or so. One of them was covered in green scales, his yellow eyes looking around, calculating. A reptilian from The Dust, as rare a creature to see let alone capture. He caught her looking at him and his tongue slithered out and flicked at her, a meaning unknown to her.
The uncloaked man nodded his head to the other doors, giving her the keys. He motioned for the group to follow him, a quiet herd of freaks, the branded. "Excuse me," a voice hissed quietly, "Are you going to stand there all night, or are you going to open my door too?" The voice startled De'mari and she flipped through the keys quickly, unlocking the door. She didn't look at the man as she hurried to the next door.. and the next.
Half an hour passes, and they must have freed this entire wing of captives. All of them standing in the dark hallways, the torches long since been put out. She had caught a glimpse of the uncloaked man, but now she was lost somewhere in the throng of bodies, all of them just waiting for something. But what? It smelled putrid, and having higher sensory function than most normal creatures of mankind, it almost made her want to vomit. The heat in this wing of the Abyss, the name giving to the labyrinth that was the prison beneath the castle. He heart hammered painfully, the anxiety was killing her. How would they pull this off? They were all going to be slaughtered. There wasn't a single female she had seen. Why was she hiding beneath the cloak? Perhaps that was obvious, some of these guys looked haunted from their isolation. Her question was answered moments later as an archway of light appeared at the end of the corridor.
De'mari gasped as she saw the figure, paralyzed as the light cast shadows of the sea of bodies. That poor guard... she thought as the crowd erupted into a deafening battle cry. She was sure her ears were about to start bleeding. She was caught up in the current of bodies as they all surged out this singular door, the dust falling from the ceiling from their roar. The excitement of it all caught up with her, and she added her own voice to the throng of murderers, spies, political prisoners, the innocent: The branded. She was halfway to the door now and the sounds of battle echoed into the cramped hallway. The guards must be rushing down to fight back the tide. At first the wet sounds of slaughter, of blood slapping the floor, could be heard. Then swords began clashing as those lucky enough not to be cut down armed themselves. It didn't sound in their favor though as the make-shift militia fought against the more experience, better equipped, superior trained guardsmen.
Twenty Feet, panic, fifteen feet, panic, ten feet.. five feet. De'mari's mind reeled as she caught sight of the guards pushing them back. It was horrid on the other side, a pure bloodbath. The final few men turned and tried to come back into the hallway, and they were cut down. The door slammed shut, and the battle cry died. The sound of a heavy bar falling into place, and then something being pushed in front of the door. Around her they murmured curses, many sat and cried. "They're going to leave us here.. to starve," someone muttered brokenheartedly. "We need you," a voice whispered, she felt the gloved hand push against the middle of her chest, and she rather felt than saw the uncloaked man. She also felt his hand press into her, then through her, a small blue light appearing where his hand was, now elbow deep inside her chest. But where? Some kind of void? What magic was this? And then the little flame inside her released, spreading a familiar feeling through her body. "Oh god.." she whispered to herself.
Tagarun Malloch was sleeping peacefully inside his small hollowed out room. The walls of rock comforted him, the bed of rock layered in a few sheets was as soft as any bed to him. Watchmen of the Abyss led a hard life, never becoming to comfortable, too lax around the kingdom's prisoners. Learning from mistakes written in texts from long ago. They lived down here, selected for their anonymity from the rest of the world. Trained, beaten, shaped, into the kingdom's best guards. Never did they go to war, never did they see the light of day except from a distance as they prisoner took his last walk to the gallows. Even that bit hurt to look at. But he enjoyed his life, and especially his sleep.
The roar that flew up the hallways and slammed into her eardrums, used to the quiet, was in fact not peaceful at all. He flew from his bed, his blood boiling. Perhaps more upset that someone had decided to disturb his four hours of rest, he had at least another twenty minutes of sleep judging by the small nub of candle next to his bed. He was dressed and fully armored in less than two minutes, the sneer across his face plain and visible. Until he pulled the visor down, slotted in three places. Across the eyes, to see thy enemy, across the nose, to smell their fear, across the mouth, to taste their blood. The mantra played in his head as he marched down the hallway, joining his brothers, all of them marching as one unit, three wide, filling the hallway. Through the barracks was the only way out, and there would be no escape, not from the watchmen.
Out of the four wings, it was the south wing they marched, occasionally one of them wouldn't be able to handle the conditioning and would try to release the prisoners. For Watchmen, there was also no freedom. Reborn in the Abyss, To serve, and to Perish into. A small unarmed crowd of prisoners had flooded through the small doorway, and the bloodbath began. Tagarun's sword split flesh and splattered blood in the most beautiful of abstract displays across the wall. Bright red and glistening, and he smiled. He cut down another man, and the blood splattered across him and his brothers. And they marched forward, silently, pushing the tide back. Not a single watchmen had fallen as they shut the door, dropped the massive iron bar into place, and pushed the solid metal wedge into place across the opening. And together they stood, silently, watching, listening as the prisoners hurled themselves at the door, desperation. To die in the darkness, so the soul would remain a prisoner, even after they dragged the bodies to the void; a crevice so deep the bodies don't make a sound as they are pushed over the edge.
Tagarun shared a smile with his brothers, as the quiet thumps stopped. They began bashing their tower shields with the swords, creating the unspoken mantra of victory. The laughter of their weapons, perhaps. A soft vibration spread across the floor, the sound echoing and bouncing throughout the room. Tagarun quirked an eyebrow as the vibration built up steadily. They stopped the pounding of the weapons and braced their wall, shield edge touching shield edge. The impenetrable wall that had slaughtered so many. Now the iron wedge began to vibrate, to shake in place. Dust poured from the ceiling and small pebbles clanked across their armor. An enormous crack split along the rock above the door, running halfway to the ceiling. It was glowing faintly red. Tagarun sneered, "Let this pathetic fools taste our steel once more brothers! They dare to stand against us again in defiance. Send them to the Void Mother!" The roared in unison. Tagarun smiled, unworried at the magic. The armor of a watchmen had never been seen above ground, and it was fully magic proof. Enchanted by the highest echelon of magi.
There was a red light seeping around the iron weight, and it shifted half an inch. "Impossible.." he whispered, that weight took ten men to push across the floor, and was fitted into grooves that ran opposite of the entryway, the sides of the metal weight extending downwards to prevent it from being pushed Backwards as one would have to somehow break off its thick metal legs, buried beneath the floor. He felt his men take a step back. And suddenly he was standing all alone as their was a loud ping, a metal shard whizzed across the room and pierced clean through one of his men and stopping halfway through the throat of the man behind him. Both crumpled to the ground.
The fire raged through De'mari's veins, boiling in her stomach, anger welling up in her head. Her fingers twitched, wanting to rip the life force from each and every person around her, to cast away her ragged clothes and bathe in it. To laugh as they crumbled beneath her power, no longer feeble and weak, but strong. Her lips split open and she gave the uncloaked man a wide smile, her red eyes glowing in the darkness. "Move.." she seethed, and he did. The few men before her, throwing themselves at the door, stepped aside. She wanted blood, but it was unwise to kill those on your side, with the same desire as yourself. No, no, it was much better to kill those outside, those who would watch her die pathetically. Like some kind of weak miserable child, with the rest of these weaklings. But it was only now she sensed the others, she could smell the stench of the magic within them, feel it coursing through their veins just waiting to be used. So readily willing, the magic, to submit to the demands of their wielders.
It pissed her off. He placed her hands against the door and pushed, one leg extended and the other bent to give her leverage, and she pushed more. Harder, her arms trembling as she pushed. The fire raging through her, burning away all of her emotions but the rage, the unbridled anger. "Lock me away .. let me die ... lock me away ... abuse me ... beat me ..." she hissed to herself, and she pushed. Her magic spilled forth from her, lightning the corridor an luminescent red. And the ground beneath them shook once more, but silently. A small crack split above the doors, and she pushed. Her skin became red, and she pushed. Her fingernails dug into the door, her arms felt stronger, empowered. And she pushed. The door split from the force of it, of her, and her magic. She cast it aside into the crowd behind her, watching her, judging her. They didn't know her, why were they looking, what were they thinking?
She seethed hot air as she placed her hand on the cool metal and pushed against it. It wouldn't move, she reached out with her magic and found those akin to her in the crowd. Though they were purer, not tainted like her. The first man she touched screamed as she reached inside of him with her magic, never removing her hands from the iron wall before her, and sucked the magic from him. Forcing open a link between them, the fool tried to resist her and he collapsed to the ground. She siphoned the power from those around her, a few were strong enough to instantly blip out of her mental radar, hiding. Others offered freely, and other she took from. Channeling all of it into herself, the orgy of magic swirling around her. Becoming tainted by her own, becoming alike, the same, becoming her magic. And the wedge shifted, just a little, a metallic snap echoing into the hallway now fully illuminated by her.
With all the magic coursing through her, threatening to make her heart explode, or her mind break, or a host of other lethal problems when one took more than they should be able to contain: Like a skin for water, if you forced more water than it could hold it would burst. She trembled, her face sweating profusely with the effort of it. The fire in her veins becoming acid, searing its way through her as she used it. And the wedge shifted again, two more pings, another, and it was sliding freely now. She pushed with the magic, focused on it and let out a howl. Her hunger gnawed at her belly, she wanted their blood. She could smell them, their fresh, virgin fear. She howled again and her brothers joined her. She threw all of the excess, gifted magic against the weight manifesting it into a physical force. Blindingly red, which smashed into it and burst into a pure white.
It took a moment for the dust to fade, being in the front De'mari could see the wedge embedded in the wall behind the tasty morsels standing before her. Limbs stuck out around its edges, there was a large gap were men had stood, a slick trail of blood left in their place. The scent of it fill her nostrils. She was close to the ground now, crouching on all fours, she was enveloped in an armor of red, black bubbles occasionally drifting through it, the taint. She snarled, like the demon from her dream. No, she was, the demon. She leaped at the man in the front, standing a step forward farther than the other. An unearthly shriek screaming from her. The man turned and threw another in before her, but that was fine. She tore off his helmet, or attempted to, breaking his neck instead. She looked at the closest man and he screamed in horror, swinging down with his sword. The crevices of his armor explode with blood as De'mari's magic slipped through it, smiling with glee as his blood rained down.
"A Sombra da Noite!!" One of the men screamed, rushing forward to meet the wave of screaming prisoners, their battle cries clashing before swords met fist. De'mari looking all the part of a demon, come the depths of hell and up into the abyss. Leaping from man to man, the armor giving birth to the idea in her mind and taking the shape of a wolf with elongated ears, and a simple take. The pure red cloaking her, completely obscuring her Fae form as she became a whirlwind of blood and death, moving through the soldiers and leaving a trail of blood. And doing so with great joy.
Tagarun looked back at the castle, bathed in the cloak of night as he walked away. The absence of guards did not surprise him as he looked out over the city. Fires envloped the houses along the main road, spreading to nearby buildings. Others pockets of flame could be spotted, and not once did the dark clouds above give any rain. Only the angry flash of lightning, a slight pain to his eyes but he would get over it. He turned and instead of heading into the city, went to report to the one man who held authority over him, His Highness. Something was amiss here, a fowl smell filled his nostrils, acrid and smokey. A dark winged shadow raced across the ground in front of him. His eyes met the creature only after his sword did, his lethal instinct proving faster than his eyes. A winged creature screeched at him, it's beak filled with razor teeth, snapping at his face. He headbutt the creature, ending it's pathetic unholy life. The clouds above rumbled and he looked up just in time to see the center open, it was a small opening. Maybe five men standing abreast. Hundreds of the winged creatures spewed from its maw, other things dropping to the ground.
"Oblivion Gate.." He said to himself, thinking of that beast from the abyss. He would get vengeance for his brothers, and his king.
If it was the last thing... He ever did.