Lovejoy

The Last Embers (Dark Steampunk/Fantasy)

@OppositionJ that was incredible. Your posts always inspire me in unexpected ways. Didn't feel like writing atm but now I do. So thanks?

The Last Embers (Dark Steampunk/Fantasy)

Posted this on the discord, but I figure I'll post it here as well!

The Last Embers (Dark Steampunk/Fantasy)

Hey everyone!

So, right now I think @CollectorOfMyst and @OppositionJ are working on posts. Can I get a quick update on where you guys are at? No hurry of course.

I'll also be working on another post from Hassan's perspective at some point. And probably Ilya. Because he exists. Somewhere.

The Last Embers (Dark Steampunk/Fantasy)

@shylarah @The Angry Goat @CollectorofMyst

Wow that took longer than it should've!

Thank you to each of you for the collab! You all did such a a great freakin' job and I loved being able to have our characters finally converse and share a moment with each other. I apologize for how chaotic it got at some spots, but I think it came together really well in the end. <3

The Last Embers (Dark Steampunk/Fantasy)

ONE Centre, First City of Cero, T'sarae

---

_{[written by Lovejoy, shylarah, Collector of Myst & The Angry Goat]}

It was a beautiful and terrifying thing, the Aegisdome.

All around him, the city of silver spires gleamed in the grey radiance of the impossible barrier that hung over it. Earlier that morning a hard snow had begun to assail them just as their train reached the domed city. Since then, the sky had erupted in a vicious icestorm that was now pummeling the aegisdome. Ragnar had spent the entire afternoon gazing up at it. Boulder-sized hail crystals assaulted the monolithic crystalline barrier, sending faint pulses of light dancing across its surface. It was of course impossible to hear the sound of the hail smashing against the dome, but Ragnar winced all the same, imagining the shearing chorus of millions of remnants of ice shattering all at once. He wondered how many storms the barrier had withstood in the centuries since its construction, and how many it would take to turn it into cracked glass.

He finally tore his eyes from the terrifying sight above him and eyed the crowds of T'saraen civilians walking the city streets. He observed the native people with a jealous and somewhat scornful expression as they traversed through ONE Centre, the city's largest plaza. It was a vast open space surrounded by tall gleaming buildings and elevated highways, while strange metal trees covered in silvery crystal leaves had been erected on manicured pits of hard earth all around the plaza, giving it a natural yet strangely manufactured atmosphere. Ragnar and Stina had converged on a platform overlooking Xegatris Station, the great train terminal where the remaining members of Warband Phoenix would be arriving.

This was the young Muraadan's first time in the Land of the Skull Remnant, and to his surprise, the people here weren't what he was expecting. He remembered the T'saraens who had crowded around Tatiana when she returned to Lanostre all those years ago on her summoner's expedition. Even now he recalled the warmth in their smiles as they welcomed her home, how they danced around her and stared in awe at the enchanted shadowcloth of her inquisitor’s coat. The T'saraens who had found a home in Lanostre's Bridgetown were a loud and gregarious lot, a people not unlike his own Muraadan clansmen, but the men and women who walked through the beautiful pathways of the First city were silent and stone-faced and didn't so much as spare one look at each other. Not even the icestorm raging just outside the barrier elicited any response from them. They seemed to be solely focused on getting where they needed to be and little else. And thus, despite being surrounded by crowds of people, there was a strange lack of noise in the plaza. It filled Ragnar with a strange unease.

He remembered the Tale's End slums in Magnagrad with its dark steaming alleys choked with dirty people crowding over barely-working etherlamps and its children hawking stolen blood in exchange for food. Cero wasn't open to folk like them, of course. The slumrats of Magnagrad were destined to live and die in the mechanical abyss that sprawled within the city of blood and steam. The native T’saraens on the other hand would never have to worry about freezing on a street corner. These people lived safe and measured lives, free of the cold that clung to every inch of the world. The Aegisdome kept them warm and safe while their beautiful city offered them enough freedom and infrastructure to allow them to work on their miracles and machines...

Why couldn't Magnagrad be turned into such a place, Ragnar mused, not for the first time.

"It's nice here, isn't it?" Ragnar said to Stina, trying his hardest to fake a smile. They had been stuck on a cramped train for the past two days and so it was a welcome relief to be able to stand out in an open plaza, despite the circumstances. Stina nodded in agreement. “Too….. too many people on that train.”

Ragnar turned to smile at this warbrother. Stina had chosen to stay with Ragnar as he waited for the other members of the warband to arrive. Hassan and Vivica didn’t seem to share in Stina's desire to keep Ragnar company and both left soon after their arrival. The young Muraadan had greatly appreciated his brother's company. Despite them being stuck on that train for so long, Ragnar didn't want to be alone. He never wanted to be alone.

Allowing the pent up air to escape his lungs, his eyes fell on a pair of T'saraen teenagers waiting to cross an intersection.

"So much death and yet it never seems to reach this place," he thought aloud, desperately hoping that Hassan and Viveca weren’t getting into any trouble.

Across from them a small group of Varyan soldiers marched through the plaza in lazy, ill-formed ranks. The soldiers were whispering among themselves, not paying much attention to their surroundings, when they finally noticed Ragnar and Stina in their inquisitor's coats. The soldiers saluted them and hastily turned to walk in the opposite direction. Ragnar couldn't help but notice the look on their faces. It was the same look on everyone else's faces, T'saraen native and Varyan soldier alike. There was a disquieting rumor that something had occured in Lanostre, but the Church had been blocking all information from escaping the Queendom.

At that moment an old train covered in steaming ice pulled into the station. Ragnar's worried expression suddenly melted away, a giant smile forming across his face as he turned around to face the train platform.

The train was an ancient beaten down machine, its faded steel exterior covered in giant hunks of ice. It had come from Magnagrad, Ragnar understood. No other journey would cause the train to accumulate so much ice build-up. As the train slowed to a stop the ice covering every inch of it began to crumble and fall apart. Ragnar gripped the railings of the platform in anticipation as the train doors slid open with a mechanical hiss.

Mother Ziotea and Father Oren stepped out of the train.

In truth, it had only been about two weeks since he had last seen the two Omestrian inquisitors, but it had felt like an eternity to him all the same. He began to hop in place, disturbing the three wolfpups who had been cuddling near his feet, and then proceeded to wave his arms like a crazy person. He shouted at the top of his lungs, not caring if all the world heard him.

"Oi, you two!" he shouted, his voice seeming to cause the entire plaza to stop and stare at him with a confused expression..

The two Omestrian inquisitors turned to face him, their eyes still squinting at the sudden influx of light given off by the massive aegisdome looming in the sky above them. Ragnar looked back at his giant companion and waved him over. "Come on Stina, let's go welcome them!"

Not bothering to wait for Stina, Ragnar jogged down the steps of the plaza to the train platform.

***

Ziotea stood alone, while Oren was conversing behind her with the small crew of the train that had brought them here. The pale inquisitor bowed his head, presumably as a gesture of thanks, though his lips moved so little and his voice was so low that it was difficult to discern what he actually said. Seeing Ragnar approaching, Oren turned and made his way to where Ziotea stood at the edge of the platform.

There was something off about Oren's gait. Ragnar had only been in close proximity to the Leviathan spellranger for a few weeks since Oren and his Leviathan warsiblings were transferred to the warband, but in that short time Ragnar had taken note of each of their physical quirks. He had to make certain that if something was off about any of them, if they were wounded or needed help in any way, he'd notice -- and thus, Oren's slight limp immediately raised an alarm.

Ragnar's violet eyes narrowed, and he cast an accusatory glare at Ziotea. Hearing Stina's loud footsteps behind him, Ragnar's courage flared. Good, I won't be alone in this.

"What did you do to him, Zee?"

“To him? Nothing.” She didn’t exactly look pleased to see them, but then the small woman rarely did. She was though, that much was obvious, at least to Ragnar. “Saved his ass, probably. I’ll have to tell you about it later.”

“Why is he limping? You two visited those ruins right? Those quiet, safe ruins?”

“The ruins were fine. It was after we came out...look, it was weird as hell, and we’ll tell you about it, but not right now.”

“I knew I couldn’t leave you alone with him. I tried to warn you, Oren.”

The Leviathan’s gaze shifted to beyond Ragnar. “Unfortunately, she has the truth of it.”

Ragnar turned and, seeing Stina standing behind him with the wolf pups trailing him, the Muraadan protector took one of them and lifted it proudly in front of Ziotea.

“Wolves! From my homeland! Aren’t they precious? We bought them in the slums!”

Ziotea eyed the animal warily, but when all it did was squirm and stick out its tongue she shrugged. “I guess.” She was trying hard not to be dismissive of her friend but she was clearly distracted. “Did you go on a trip after all, then?”

“We went to that pub and I saved a bunch of civilians from a rocket. But I’m sure you will hear about it soon enough. The soldiers can’t stop talking about how much of a hero I am.”

“Already? I’m jealous. Here, let me rub your head for good luck~”

Ragnar happily allowed her this gesture, and she gave him a smile.

Stina, somewhat suspicious of Ziotia’s unwillingness to share information, looked downwards at her, as she rubbed Ragnar’s head, with a small measure of hostility. “I hope tha-tha-that you will not forget to tell us. Someth… ...ing that harms an Inquisitor is something we should all be aware of.”

“Look, I said I’ll tell you all, and I will tell you all, just...when I can tell all of you. I’m still processing. Besides, if people start turning into weird blue giants, I’m sure you’ll notice.” Ziotea paused long enough to deliver a playful but solid punch to Stina’s arm. “Bigger than even you. Kind of hard to miss.”

Stina grunted and shrugged his shoulders. “Do not let your emotions distract you frrrrrrom protecting us as well with information as you do on the battlefield.” It felt like he had more to say, and he paused despite still holding the attention of the conversation. Perhaps it was something about respecting her need to understand a trauma before being able to verbalize it, but he didn’t have the vocabulary to even fully comprehend the thoughts he was trying to convey. He instead settled for softening his facial features, and resting his hands in the pockets sewn onto the inside of his cloak.

“Blue giants, Zee?” Ragnar shook his head. “Really?” the young inquisitor asked with an incredulous expression. He threw a quick glance at Oren for any hint of confirmation to this ludicrous lie. When the Leviathan inquisitor gave him only an impatient glance in return, Ragnar frowned.

Oren folded his hands together behind his back, his eyes trained on Ziotea, his mouth pressed into a thin line. “Is the open really the best place to discuss recent events, Warband Phoenix? We can talk about our encounters later; at present, we need to make sure we’re ready to leave.”

Ragnar breathed a heavy sigh. He was very much looking forward to hearing Ziotea and Oren’s account of their visit to the Corpseland, but the pale-haired inquisitor was right. Now was probably not the right time to speak of their visit to that place. Still, their reticence to speak on the matter picked at him. Hm. Whatever had happened to them in those ruins, it has to be important, Ragnar thought to himself. Ziotea wouldn’t be drawing it out so much if it wasn’t. Still, the events at the Shadow and Storm pub were too monumental for Ragnar to keep quiet about. Ziotea and Oren had traveled to Cero on an empty train and thus they had no way of knowing about the “Butcher of Tale’s End” and the justice he had dispensed at the legendary tavern.

“I suppose we do have places to be right now, Father Oren, but you must at least listen to Stina’s story,” he said, slapping Stina on the forearm playfully.

“Go on. Tell them about the ice pirates!”

“What, that louuuuuusy lot of heretics?” He laughed,. “After training aagainst you lot for so lo-o-ong, cutting through them was like a…. a walk in the park. Honestly the best part of th-th-th-the whole thing was right at the beginning when Hassan just w-w-waltzed in and cleared out all the civilians with a single sentence.” He thought back to the night again. It really had been wonderful: no repetitive training, no teacher yelling at you for holding the sword slightly too low on the handle, none of the politics involved in talking to people. Instead there was just battle - and the hunger he had just now discovered, but that still sat, eagerly, deep in his soul, crying to get out. He grinned as he continued, though the smile seemed to hold a little bit of the bloodlust within him.

“After that, a-a-a-a--- sssssshort shootout, before a Secular Armyman encouraged me to charge the pirates. It wennnnt poorly for them.” He stood there, collecting his thoughts for a moment before continuing. “This one,” he said, nudging Ragnar, encouraging him to tell his own part of the story, “stopped a huge explosion, aaand Hassan caught up to- t’their leader. Got some important information about the apostate Dara.” He finished with a scowl, as if the man’s name had a bitter taste to it.

The mention of the lost apostate seemed to bring Ragnar back down to earth.

“Father Dara... He was last sighted in Lanostre, wasn’t he?”

His thoughts returned to Tatiana and the others. All the crazy rumors going around about an attack on the Varyan flotilla blockading the Lanostran capital and about a young inquisitor being involved had filled him with trepidation.

“I know you and Oren have been secluded up there in Omestris but, have you heard anything about Lanostre?” Ragnar asked Ziotea. “I haven’t met with Galahad, Astraea, or Tatiana yet but, there are rumors. Weird ones.”

“Nothing,” Ziotea answered. “We just got in, only had most of a day at the Seminary before heading out again, and I wasn’t listening to the gossip.”

“There’s been all kinds of talk about some kind of attack. The lord clerics are keeping a lid on everything, of course.”

“Of course. Bastards.” Ziotea spit in the snow at the mention of the clerical branch, causing Stina to break into a smile.

Ragnar recoiled instinctively, immediately scoping the area for anyone who might have caught sight of the blasphemous act. He leaned close to the Omestrian warrior. “There is something strange happening. I can feel it.”

“I hate being toyed with,” she growled, feeling the skin on her arms prickle under her vambraces. “There’s definitely something going on, I can tell you that much. I just don’t get how it fits together.” She frowned for a moment, then made herself relax. She was back with her warband, and together they could face anything. “We’ll discuss the details when we’re all together, yeah?”

He nodded, cuddling the wolf in his arms.

“I met with Rodion earlier. Tried to bring him food but he shooed me out of the room. Some new ethereal toy has him ensnared, I bet. I’m certain he’ll make time for you though.”

“You did?” Her face lit up at the mention of the engineer. “I suppose I’ll have to track him down, then.”

“He is aboard the Karamzina, our wonderful new state-of-the-art steam ark. It’s a beauty, Zee. Sharp as a blade and and sleek as a spear. It’s docked at the Forge, the special drydocks at the southeastern edge of the city.”

Ziotea nodded, and split off at once. She’d not seen Rodion in far too long.

For a few moments, Oren watched after her. Whether or not she saw it, Ziotea’s eagerness was all too plain. Well, so long as the watcher knew what to look for. He turned to look at the other two, and with a small grimace, he said to them, “Well. As nice as it has been to talk to you, Father Ragnar, Father Stina… I need a bath.” - and then started to walk.


The Last Embers (Dark Steampunk/Fantasy)

Hey everyone,

Just a quick update on where we're at.

Currently waiting on @CollectorOfMyst and @the Angry Goat to get back to me regarding their characters' dialogue in a collab post. That post is like 95% done I think, just waiting on some final input before we can move on.

Also waiting on @vietmyke to send me a PM.

The Last Embers (Dark Steampunk/Fantasy)

Chapter 1 has officially begun! Woohoo!

@vietmyke I gave Galahad some stuff to work with. Feel free to join back up anytime!

The Last Embers (Dark Steampunk/Fantasy)

I
- The Sword -

bring me my bow of burning gold
bring me my arrows of desire
bring me my spear, O clouds unfold
bring me my chariot of fire

***

Near the First City of Cero, T'sarae

---

_{[written by Lovejoy & OppositionJ]}

T'sarae was a land seemingly out of time.

Astraea observed the passing snow fields with a middling fascination as the old train sped them towards their destination. Untainted by the smoke and black steel of Magnagrad, the pale snows of T'sarae's frozen plains called to mind the lowlands of Lanostre, but it was different here. Sapharan was the capital of Lanostre, but the queendom itself was populated by countless smaller settlements in the lands surrounding the great twin mountains. T'sarae, on the other hand, was completely empty. It seemed like the only place that mattered here was the grand metropolis they were currently journeying to.

The three inquisitors had left the Mountain and the Glacier behind in chaos and uproar, their roles in the mysterious attack already spreading throughout the SA's ranks, and therefore, the empire itself. Tatiana had killed several soldiers during her escape, and if what the summoner said was true, the clerical branch would be hunting her down. Astraea smiled at the notion. Let them come. We will fight them tooth and nail.

The R'heon stole a glance at Tatiana and Galahad as they sat across from her on the train. It was an old steam machine, like all Varyan trains were, dating back to before the war. Back then it was used to ferry Varyan conscripts to the Lanostran war front, but today it was filled with SA soldiers and civilians, nervously gossiping about the three inquisitors currently occupying the empty car near the back of the train.

Tatiana and Galahad had been conversing quietly the entire trip -- planning and strategizing for whatever awaited her within Cero. Astraea understood why she was being kept out of the conversation. She and Tatiana were cordial at the best of times, but the summoner and Galahad were as brother and sister in the truest sense. Tatiana's escape, her defiance against the lord clerics, it was a problem that would affect the entire warband, but for now, it was an issue that affected Tatiana specifically, and that in turn meant it affected Galahad as well.

The sound of footsteps approaching from behind brought Astraea out of her revery. A young SA soldier, part of the Engineering Corps by the emblem on her lapel, approached them nervously.

"Your Reverences. We will be arriving at Cero within the hour," the young woman said, her eyes quickly glancing at Tatiana. The soldier bowed and hastily left the car.

Galahad sighed. He spoke something in Tatiana's ear before rising from his eat and following the young soldier to the rear car. Probably off to order the communications officer to give him information about what awaits us at that train platform, Astraea thought.

She wondered if the clerics would really attempt to pursue Tatiana all the way to Cero. The city itself enjoyed a certain amount of independence from the Church and if she had heard correctly, the clerical branch didn't even have a temple there. Would Tatiana be safe in such a place? The summoner was an ordained inquisitor on an important mission, nay, a grand mission, known to all the empire. Many of its citizens knew her name, and many more worshipped her as the heir to Lady Indira. Would court marshalling Mother Tatiana Leviatan prove the wisest decision for the Church? Astraea didn't think so. But still, there was a chance this could all go wrong. It certainly wouldn't be the first time.

The R'heon got up from her seat and approached Tatiana.

"You really got us into it," she said to her, a faint smile forming on her lips.

Tatiana’s eyes had remained glued to the snowscape that sat beyond her window. She was lost in thought until Galahad had managed to goad her into conversation. When he had gotten up to deal with his business, Tatiana could have sworn there was a certain air of fear that came over her. No, that couldn’t have been right. She knew she was safe here, but something permeated her very being after the trial. It didn’t leave her. As Astraea moved to speak to her, her gaze did not move at first, but soon Tatiana broke her perpetual trance with the endless fields of snow to avert eye contact and look down towards herself.

“There was a lot of blood shed on that bridge. More than just demon blood.” Tatiana pursed her lips as she finished. She had barely finished comprehending the situation herself.

Astraea gazed at the young summoner. Always so cheerful, so full of laughter. Astraea remembered the raven-haired girl running through the halls of the Seminary with Ragnar when they were children, the two of them keeping the entire warband up at night with their giggling. The thought of the girl killing human soldiers, of killing anyone, was like some sick joke. Tatiana seethed with ethereal might, that much was obvious, but for her to turn a blade on other humans. It felt wrong.

“I’ve never killed anyone. I don’t think any one of us have. You’re the first.”

Silence filled the air, the low rumble of the train tracks the only accompaniment to the uncomfortable moment between them. It was always awkward, whenever it was just the two of them, the gulf between their personalities as vast as the gap between the twin mountains that separated their homes back at Sapharan.

“How do you feel?” the R’heon asked. Tatiana knew that Astraea didn’t need to ask her that. The R’heon’s strange ability to sense emotions from those in her proximity gave her all the answers she needed. Still, she hoped Tatiana would reach out on her own.

Astraea’s words carved through Tatiana’s chest like a long blade piercing directly her heart. She had killed people. Tatiana suddenly seemed to feel the weight of the gallons of blood that had covered Polarpike bridge. Was it regret that overcame her? Guilt? Embarrassment? It didn’t matter. When Astraea asked her question, Tatiana felt herself impulsively speak up.

“The demons, I meant. One of the glacier’s creatures. It came and… It slaughtered a swathe of men…” Tatiana couldn’t help but subtly shake her head as she spoke. To lie to the empathic inquisitor wasn’t easy when she was prepared for it. Now, things were even worse, but Tatiana couldn’t admit it. She wasn’t ready to explain herself to her warband like that. Not yet.

“I don’t know. The clerics, the R’heon—” Tatiana cut herself off. Her greatest enemies also included her fellow inquisitor among their ranks. To speak badly on them, Tatiana wasn’t sure she could do so openly. Not now at least. “Just act like it didn’t happen.”

Astraea lowered herself to sit next to her warsibling. She leaned in close and placed a gentle hand on Tatiana’s shoulder. Outside, a sudden flurry of snow blasted across the plains, covering the window in white.

“It’s going to be alright,” she said to her, Astraea’s voice barely above a whisper, as if to hide the summoner from the train full of soldiers around them. “You need time. Gods know all of us do. Just know that…” her words trailed off. She remembered their argument the previous morning before the battle, when Tatiana’s raw, untested power concerned the R’heon to such a degree that she drew a line and challenged the summoner to cross it. Tatiana would not come with them to the battle. It could prove disastrous, she remembered thinking.

“But one is enough…”

The summoner’s words rippled through her mind. Tatiana was alone-- a summoner in a warband of warriors. Even with Galahad and Ragnar at her side, no one could understand the unseen tides that continuously crashed against her. The price that needed to be paid in exchange for such a gift. No one except the two people who made the summoner who she was. Her father and Lady Indira. Both of them gone.

“Just know that I am here for you if you should ever need me,” Astraea spoke as she gently squeezed her warsibling’s shoulder.

Tatiana felt another torrent of pain internally batter her. Time… She couldn’t imagine she’d ever heal from such a break in her mental abilities. She was always the collected one— the light in the Seminary’s dark halls. This was all wrong, and the worst of it was that Astraea was right. She knew about the ticking time bomb that was her ally. That only got Tatiana thinking… Could things have been different? Could a more peaceful outcome have been achieved if she had heeded the words of her allies? Did she deserve to fight alongside her fellow inquisitors? Tatiana supposed it didn’t matter.

“I’ll… Be alright. I’m never alone. I know…” The words came out, but then Tatiana repeated herself, speaking much softer this time: “I know…” Of course, her thoughts didn’t refer to her comrades in the Seminary. No, a twisted vision occupied her mind. She wouldn’t let it be known. “Don’t let me be a setback… Don’t let me hurt the warband.” Just to speak the words brought a watering to Tatiana’s eyes. She couldn’t believe that she dared defer to Astraea. They had so commonly butted heads, and now Tatiana found herself locked at that spot where she had to accept what she had done. She didn’t know if she ever would…

“You could never hurt us, Tatiana. Galahad might be warleader, but you are our guiding light. As much as I find your… “companion” disconcerting, Warband Phoenix is nothing without its summoner. I will never let anyone hurt you,” Astraea said. It was a promise she intended to keep. There was a writhing something within the young summoner, a bramble of thorns continuously cutting its way through her. Could the act of killing had bothered her that much? Was the concern over the clerical branch’s response the cause of it? Astraea couldn’t be sure and resolved to not pry any further. If Tatiana ever wished to unveil her terrors, Astraea would be ready to listen.

The two of them sat together quietly as the train continued its journey eastward to the coast. Galahad did not return. Astraea wagered he was busy communicating with the church officials in the city. As warleader it fell to him to liaison with the clerical branch, a job that she did not envy in the slightest. She wondered how he was getting on.

Soon, the snow that had built up on the windows began to melt away and a pleasant warmth began to envelope them. As the train approached the city, a subtle glow began to emanate from outside the window.

“Look. There it is,” Astraea said, her breath caught in her throat..

High in the sky above them, stretching for miles down the coast, the Aegisdome rose from the pale mist. Within its crystal golden canopy the skyline of the First City of Cero could be seen, hundreds of skyscrapers erecting from the ground. It was unlike anything Astraea had ever seen. The Elder Mountain, with its azure spires and forests of emerald pine, was what occupied her mind when she envisioned beauty, but the Aegisdome was certainly challenging her concept of it. That something so beautiful could be built from the ruins of their world was… astounding.

“T’sarae…” Despite her heritage, Tatiana had never experienced the city of her father’s roots. The Seminary had always taken precedence. Her eyes widened to reveal that a certain striking of awe had seemed to melt away her negative thoughts if just for a moment. Was this her home? Of course not… She wasn’t T’saraen. “It’s… So different.”

“Hm. Different… and similar at the same time. I still feel it -- the emptiness that darkens every inch of Magnagrad. The Ravenous Lord’s influence still claws at this place. There is no freedom here.”

***

Xegatris Station, the First City of Cero, T'sarae

---

It was still morning by the time the train pulled into Xegatris Station, the main hub of terminals at the center of the city. Scores of military personnel streamed out of the old train, desperate to escape its enclosed confines after an entire day’s worth of travel. To their surprise, there was no one awaiting them on the platform. No squad of clerics ready to collar Tatiana and drag her into a T’saraen prison, no inquisitors, no soldiers besides the ones who were leaving the train.

All seemed normal.

Galahad bid the two of them farewell, leaving Astraea and Tatiana on the platform. He made his way into the station, his black inquisitor’s coat immediately setting him apart from the throng of regular soldiers who now crowded the platform. He didn’t quite tell them where he was going or what he was doing, but this was normal for him. Galahad was burdened with a lot of responsibilities, and, if their schedule was correct, the entire warband was considered to be “on leave” before the dockside ceremony that would be taking place later that night. He deserved his time away from the warband, Gods know they all did.

Besides Rodion, Tatiana, Galahad and herself were the first to arrive in the City.

“I’m going to pay a visit to the barracks. I need an update on the Silver Fleet and how things are going back hom-- back in Sapharan,” Astraea corrected herself, unfastening the clasp from the collar of her inquisitor’s coat. She was not accustomed to the sudden warmth after days on the Mountain.

“Hm…” Tatiana merely gave her comrade a nod of acknowledgement, absently peering about the station. The whole city was a bit overwhelming— more new concepts than Tatiana had seen in a long while. She had a lot to do, but wasn’t quite sure if she could settle down to start on all of her work.

“I’ll be heading to my quarters soon. Just… Some rest would be nice.” Tatiana wasn’t sure how much of the truth that was herself. Tatiana met Astraea’s eye for a long moment, but after that, she found herself turning off and walking away. Tatiana had been one of few words very recently, though perhaps it was more an issue of the summoner wishing to conceal her intentions from her warband.

The summoner’s steps were swift as she treaded off into the city. Her eyes furtively analyzed each passer by. Whether it was paranoia that had overtaken her, or goals that were much more grave, Tatiana moved with purpose into the crowd, and a demonic intention in her eye.

The Last Embers (Dark Steampunk/Fantasy)

Essa the Elder

Age: Unknown
Occupation: Keeper of the Iddin-Mar ruins

A mysterious Omestrian elder found in the depths of the Iddin-Mar ruins by Father Oren and Mother Ziotea during their expedition to Omestris. Initially thought to be an escaped slave hiding out in the ruins with her young grandchildren, Essa is the High Inquisitor Lyessa al-Nors, a seemingly ageless Omestrian warpriest who once served with Father Antonin in the forgotten Warband Ifrit. Lyessa holds the secrets of Iddin-Mar, and of Omestris as a whole, within her memories -- and is thus one of the few Omestrian elders living with a connection to the nation's sealed past.

Rosamunde of House Id-Maryan

Age: 12
Occupation: Escaped Omestrian royal

A crimson-haired Omestrian girl who, along with two other children, escaped the Scarlet House, a brothel in Magnagrad catering to high-ranking members of the Varyan church and nobility. Rose comes from a long line of Omestrian royalty, her family hunted down long ago by Bishop Aleksandre after the fall of Omestris and forced to work as breeding slaves for the Varyan elite. After escaping, Rose and her two young charges, the scions of Lanostre and T'sarae royalty themselves, journeyed to Omestris, where they came under Essa's protection.

Rose possesses an in-born talent for ether, and though she was not trained during her childhood, Essa has taught her well during their time together and has passed down some of her knowledge to the young girl.

Vahn Sareffi-Astra XI

Age: 8
Occupation: Escaped T'saraen royal

The lost heir to the deposed royal family of T'sarae, Vahn was raised in the Scarlet House to be the perfect servant and courtesan. Although he has escaped this life of servitude, the boy still clings to the training ingrained within him, and secretly detests the harsh life outside the House's walls. Still, he is devoted to Rose and Fionna, and would do anything to protect them.

Fionna of Legion Saphar

Age: 8
Occupation: Escaped Lanostran royal

Despite her upbringing in the Scarlet House, Fie is a friendly and outgoing girl who loves her two "siblings", Rose and Vahn, as if they were her own family. Though she is the lost heir to Legion Saphar, the deposed warrior-kings of Sapharan who once served directly under Lady Lanostre, Fie was born sickly and suffers from an unknown condition which causes her to suffer periodic seizures. Despite never once visiting her homeland, she dreams of journeying there and seeing it with her own eyes.

The Last Embers (Dark Steampunk/Fantasy)

Hi everyone!

Just a quick update. Chapter 1 opening post is being worked on. Things are moving a bit slow right now, since a lot of us are collaborating on character dialogue. Shouldn't be that much longer though. :)