pantothenic

O R I F L A M M E

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Location: Grand Armée Encampment
Combatants: Gèrard, Camille @Pirouette, Caelum @RezonanceV, Thorunn Silverhair @Force and Fury

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”You’re going to feel some soreness, but it will go away shortly. Stay here a while and rest.” After doing a final checkup on her bruised up patients, the Parrench physician exited the tent and left Gerard and Tristan to their own devices. The two men stretched and massaged their muscles, trying to work out the cramps as best they could before they returned to the front line. Thankfully no permanent damage had been done thanks to the efforts of their allies.

The Rezaindian men retrieved their tools and equipment and got their effects in order. As they finished doing so, Misha poked into the tent with a worried look on her face.

“Hey, how are you two feeling?”

”I’m okay. Somehow none of my bones were broken back there. I’m pretty much good to go.” Tristan replied. His fellow apprentice slapped him on the shoulder, causing him to yowl in pain.

“Idiot! You made it out in one piece because I was there! Don’t ever do something so reckless again!” Misha berated her partner harshly. She turned her head to Gerard and started to speak out, but then realized who she was speaking to and looked away sheepishly.

”Quiet. Get yourselves ready for battle. They’re still fighting out there. We have to-” Before the master mage could finish his sentence, the distant sound of a ram horn could be heard coming from outside. Pushing past his two acolytes, Gerard pulled open the tent flaps and looked around. Parrench soldiers were running past, all moving in the same direction. There was chaotic shouting all around, but one thing was clear. They were being attacked.

”The troops are rallying! We must go and meet the enemy!”

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At some point, Gerard had been cut off from his apprentices. He could still feel their life signs from afar, but with so many Eskandr running amok it would take too long to try and reach them. Whatever officer was leading this backline assault had brought some elite troops. Like before, it was his plan to ignore the rank and file and head straight for the leader. It was not difficult at all to detect them, whoever they were. Their wheel level handily outstripped his own, and Gerard was no middling mage. If there was nobody besides him capable of facing the enemy, the Rezaindian could very well be heading to his death.

He charged through burning tents and over charred corpses, slaying the occasional Eskandr raider on the way with a combination of blade and magic. The heat that filled the air caused sweat to pour down Gerard’s face. Eventually the enemy came into sight, and she was not alone. A silver haired Eskandr witch clashed with a greatsword wielding Parrench maiden. From his brief view of the situation, Gerard could tell that the southerner had the upper hand.

Good. There are more of us here. Gerard was nearly upon them when another man emerged from amongst the chaos and ran beside him. The two exchanged a silent look and nodded, though the knight’s eyes were difficult to see through his helmet visor. Words were not needed. They would slay the enemy together.

Caelum was the first to act, throwing a wave of force at the silver haired one with his sword. Using the witch’s own violent actions against her, Gerard drew upon the surrounding hellfire and brought the flames to life. Glowing serpents converged upon Thorunn from behind, lashing at her all at once. The combined assault was deadly, but their opponent effortlessly dodged or absorbed the attacks with ease.

"That was pathetic!" the Eskandr jeered in much better Parrench than Hrothgar. "Your magic teachers should be ashamed of you." Then, she returned a spell of her own: A great, coiling tornado of fire aimed at the new arrivals. It was a ferocious attack, but a clumsy one. Focusing all her strength on a single spell meant Caelum and Gerard were able to draw the energy out of the tornado together and render it harmless. Gerard was especially greedy in his drawing, and the second the vortex dissipated he already had his counterattack ready.

”Save the boasting for when the battle is over you witch!” Gerard shouted at the Eskandr in her own language. He produced a massive fireball using the flames he stole from the tornado and sent it screaming towards her. Again, she blew it away. At this rate none of their attacks would reach Thorunn.

"So you play with fire too, priest. Not as well, but passable." She tilted her head. "No matter. I have other tricks." The pyromancer was interrupted when the Parrench woman attempted to cleave her head off, but the silver haired witch easily knocked her opponent away with a force blast. Everyone scrambled to gain a more advantageous position, and after a few moments of ineffectual probing the four of them had converged into a triangle with Thorunn in the center.

Caelum threw another wave of force at the femme fatale while simultaneously sending a bolt of lightning. Were she to be pushed by the first attack, she would be hit by the second. It was a good trick, but Thorunn was not budged by the initial blow.

"You sneaky little prick," she hissed, shaking her head at the clever combo attack. "My turn!" Drawing from the residual heat in the air, she reached for the priest's and knight's heads with twin fists of Force, to squish them like overripe fruits.

Gerard absorbed as much of the spell as he could, but the difference in their levels was staggering. Even has he drew himself to capacity, Thorunn’s attack was still strong enough to nearly crack his skull. His vision blurred and for a moment he was brought to his knees in pain. His fellow soldier survived one way or another. It looked like the sword maiden had protected him remotely.

From behind the protection of his ally’s golden aura, Caelum sprung forth and struck at Thorunn with his weapon. She easily stepped out of the way, looking almost bored. Her overconfidence blinded her to the followup; the thunder wielding champion flourished his blade, causing the air to ripple with wild lightning. Overgrown sparks exploded around the witch, numbing the arm she used to defend herself. ”Bastard!” She shouted while shoving back at him with force, hitting nothing but air as the knight danced away.

Despite the blood pouring out of his nose and mouth, Gerard’s spirit was not yet broken. For the briefest moment he considered cutting himself off and running for safety. He was badly injured and the three of them faced an insurmountable enemy. Retreat was just another tactic people used on the battlefield. But no, it wasn’t over for him. The red priest drew his brand from its scabbard. The weapon was clearly of Eskandish make based on its shape, as well as the runes inscribed on the hammered metal. Gerard scraped his finger along the length of the sword, and upon doing so the blade was consumed by fire which extended much further than the weapon itself. He leaped forward and swung with all his might with a defiant war cry.

"Oooh, flaming swords," Thorunn mocked. Before Gerard could strike true, he was pushed back by her annoyingly powerful force magic. Around them, the Parrench were beginning to retreat to the fortified city. If nothing else, the plan was working. Realizing that time for battle was growing short, she pulled from the debris around where they were fighting: medical tools, splintered wooden beams, flaming sheets, discarded weapons. She pulled them into the air and flung them at all three of her opponents in a flurry.

In response to the coming danger, Gerard pulled the flames around the camp towards him and encircled himself. A great wall of fire scorched away the flying debris or deflected it through sheer pressure before anything could do him harm. "You realize that your side is retreating," Thorunn sneered. "Why don't you go run?" The words made the priest’s skin crawl. This fight was going nowhere and they were running out of time. They had to strike a decisive blow soon.

Camille had taken a wooden beam to the chest... well not quite to her chest but to the aura guarding her chest. There was enough force to stagger her, making her chest feel tight as the aura pushed away the debris. Yet she stood her ground, planting her greatsword in the ground to catch herself, she spun nimbly and turned her lost momentum into forward momentum. Her greatsword was being dragged behind in one hand while Camille turned rammed her shoulder into Thorunn.

The girl charged her, like a wild animal, like The Nashorn! Thorunn stood her ground, raised her arms, and drew everything that she could from the charge, filling herself with Force. It wasn't quite enough. The smaller woman hit her nonetheless, though barely moving. Thorunn stumbled back, cursing and bruised in he midsection. She'd hit right where the burn from that... Laughing Knight had been earlier. "You bitch!" she screamed, rearing back to unleash everything that she had. The Parrench, however, had other ideas. Several fireballs came at Thorunn from all sides as Gerard attempted to exploit the opening created by Camille. His eyes widened in surprise as they all disappeared at once, and the witch fired several arcane lances in return. It was almost death for Gerard, but in a split second the swordswoman leapt between the two and deflected the assault. If they weren’t so pressured right now, the Rezaindian may have given her a word of genuine gratitude.

They kept pushing at her, bothering her, shoving, shocking, and burning her, but Thorunn Silverhair just kept coming. She gained a momentary breather from these three and then drew everything: all of her fires, all of the force from the rain and wind, all of the broken tents, weapons, tools, and bodies. It filled her until a pressure built in her head, until her eyes sparked and glowed. A battlecry split the night air. Then, she hurtled forward so quickly that she was barely even a blur, grabbing Gerard by the ankles. He felt the world spin as she swung him into the air. He lost consciousness yet again as he was slammed with enough strength to crack the earth. He was out of the fight.

The Hourglass Order

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Ghosts - Continued

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The moon washed the refuge in a faint glow as Yalen’s second night in Torragon came to an end. Once again the students of Ersand’Enise found themselves walking in unison, the Red Tower slowly receding behind them. Slightly ahead of everyone else was Jocasta, her wheels gliding effortlessly across the stone colonnade. The demure mask from before was now gone. In its place was something more genuine. She had become more laid-back, and perhaps more cheeky as well. The tethered girl looked over her shoulder.

”Hey you four, I’m curious. If you were able to time travel, what do you think you would do with it?” Jocasta called out to them.

”Time travel? Indeed…” Yalen had a faraway look as he seriously pondered over Jocasta’s question. There were so many answers to pick from. Reverse a tragic event? Meet someone no longer alive, or yet to be born? The opportunities were endless. ”I think I would speak to my future self. If I end up with any regrets in my life, it would be a privilege to have a second chance.” He finally decided upon his answer after a few seconds of contemplation.

The gap between Jocasta and the others closed as she became more conscious of her pace. ”I could hardly fault you,” she replied, “though I think I’ll probably have far more regrets than someone as… just damned good as you.” Though she obviously meant it in a good way, Yalen frowned at the remark.

There’s no need to put yourself down like that. He thought to himself.

”There are questions I’d like to ask, or things I would’ve liked to have figured out earlier,” Kaspar started in a soft tone,”But… perhaps I’d go to some time I’ve never been or never will be. Some time removed from myself - to have the chance to see something I’ll never get to see.”

He blushed lightly, shooting a glance toward the wheelchair-bound girl. ”But, ah… That’s perhaps a less… productive way to use such a power,” he admitted.

Jocasta smiled at Kaspar's blush. "Gettin' all bashful on me, there, eh?” She pushed off again - a great big one that let her glide freely, but then she grabbed her wheels, pushed back, and ended up beside Kaspar. "I'd go far into the future and see what kind of world we've made for ourselves by then." She paused, pressing a pensive finger to her lips for a moment. "Or maybe way back to the start of it all." Her eyes gazed wistfully into the distance, but the guest dormitories were not far now.

"Perhaps you could tell us whether the chicken or the egg came first?" Yalen suggested jokingly. His poor attempt at humor caused Zarina to poke him in the side, at which he recoiled. He rubbed his ribcage and tightened his lips.
"I could answer your question,” Jocasta teased Yalen, "Though I'd be deathly afraid of rolling over the wrong egg and fouling up the entire flow of history. Time is... not to be trifled with, I think. I'd also have to scrub yolk off my wheels. Ugh. No thank you." She blinked and looked towards the other two women, who'd been silent to now. "How about you, Strong-but-Silent?" she prodded.

Ayla mused over the question for a while before answering. "There is nothing to change in the past. For what has happened, has been. Our lives are filled with regret, failure, and missed opportunities. But to human is to err, and only by failure will we learn and become better than our previous selves. If we change the past, we don't learn those lessons, and we are doomed to repeat them. By undoing one event, won’t we create even more potentially bad ends?". She places her hand over her friend’s, knowing of the trouble in her past. "With a power like that, it is not about changing the past, but changing the future. The power to know what may happen and change it, making a better world for ourselves and others around us. We may not erase the past, but we can prevent such things from happening in the first place. Learn lessons without the price of failure."

Ayla's more serious answer gave Jocasta pause. "Heprates has nothing on you," she joked, rolling out ahead again. "But I think you're right, you know. Changing the past - well, more than a couple minutes of it - does no good. Failing to use such a gift to create a better future might be wasting it. Still," she mused aloud, "I wonder so much what times distant from ours will look like. Will they really be better?"

Ayla smiles as she moves to stroke her fingers through Jo's blonde hair in a comforting manner, caressing it lightly at its ends. "If there is ever the opportunity, don't forget about your amiga, Ayla.". She teases her friend with her comment, "Though such wishful thinking is most likely only so. Never heard of such a gift before.".

Zarina had remained conspicuously silent during this exchange. Her arms crossed under her chest as she she paced slightly behind the others and just watched the evening skies. When Jocasta poked for both Ayla’s and Zarina’s attention, the Virangish kept discreet while the Torragonese expressed her views on the matter, more so than a wish. With the tone she used, it seemed like the subject had affected her patience and forced herself to answer. ”I don’t like to think of these things.” she states when a moment of silence came and inevitable attention was brought to her again, ”They busy the mind with things that won’t– or shouldn’t happen.” she scratched her cheek, ”I don’t dwell on the past and I make the future what I want it to be. No point skipping ahead.”

"Well, don't feel compelled to answer Zarina. We're just passing time." Yalen offered in an attempt to smooth things over.

Indeed, time had passed and they were back in their dorm area now. For a moment, Jocasta glared daggers at Ayla's offending hands, but her face soon softened. In response to her, Yalen, and - most especially - Zarina, the tethered merely giggled. "Oh, I know it's all just a hypothetical. Still," she concluded, "I find it fun to think about and... who knows, y'know?" She may or may not have winked, it was so brief, but she set hands to wheels and turned off in the direction of the big common room.

"Anyways, I'm off to go be a maid for the next little while. I'll see you soon!"

A maid? You're the one who offered to help! Yalen thought to himself. The number of cheeky women in the group was growing. Yalen entered the common room with Jocasta, and with her help the space was made a bit cleaner and more well lit. Candles and lanterns were appropriated and unnecessary furniture pushed to the edges of the room. Only a low lying table was allowed to remain in the middle, with floor cushions spread out so that each student had a place. Jocasta may have rolled her eyes a bit when Yalen even insisted on rearranging some of the lights so they would form a five sided perimeter around them. Once the arrangements had been made, Yalen took his seat while Jocasta was allowed to choose between remaining in her wheelchair or using one of the cushions herself. "Thanks Jocasta. I couldn't have managed by myself." Yalen said gratefully. His eyes were drawn to the Kerreman time piece on the wall. The agreed upon hour was only a couple minutes away, so it wouldn't be long until their friends joined them.

"I'll admit to helping because I was intrigued,” Jocasta replied, backing up to admire some of their handiwork with the low table. "Place looks more alive than I've ever seen it,", she agreed, turning on the spot to take it all in. She came to a stop and breathed. "You know, we used to call it the 'Ghost Room' when we were kids. We'd dare each other to go in there and complete 'missions' and things." She let out a snort and smiled faintly, wistfully, looking up at Yalen. "We thought it was haunted, but it was just a room that never got used." She rolled forward a bit, bending over and repositioning the cushion beside him with her hands instead of the Gift. With a small grunt of exertion, she swung herself down onto it, taking a moment to sweep some golden locks from her eyes. "Something poetic about this, whatever happens tomorrow," she remarked, eyes roving for a moment before finding his. Absently, she gathered her legs and crossed them. "And, well... before anyone else gets here, I just... wanna say a thank you of my own." She glanced down at her lap, smoothing out some of the folds in her dress before resting her hands on her knees. "You knew me for what I was this morning - Eshiran, I could see your fear - but you didn't try to use me or destroy me for it." She pressed her eyelids shut for just a moment and time slipped away. In the anticipatory stillness of this place, the senses became acute. One could feel the air brush their skin as it was warmed by a dozen candles. The snapping of tiny flames and the ticking of a clock echoed through the silence, and if one listened closely they might even hear their own pulse.

Yalen leaned forward on the table and rested his chin on top of his arms. He lay there staring at a flickering candle. It was strange how uneasy he felt right now. The priest in training had held dozens of people's hands as they pleaded to Dami for clemency, felt the life slip out of their body as they slowly faded away. He had prayed for them, and cried for them, but the short time spent with his new friends had exposed Yalen to emotions he'd never had to deal with before.

"I'm sorry Jocasta, but you're mistaken. I didn't know anything until recently. What you saw in me this morning was merely the lingering touch of a bad dream." Yalen sighed heavily. I never would have doubted you at all were it not for other people whispering in my ear. I admit I did begin to suspect you, and when I finally learned of your past wrongdoings... After trusting you so innocently, I felt betrayed." There was a pause as Yalen stopped to take a breath. He still wasn't looking at her, but he felt her gaze drilling into the back of his head. Without seeing her face it was impossible to know how she was feeling right now. "The others say they forgive you... but I cannot do the same." This time Yalen sat up straight and met her eyes. "But it's not because you don't deserve it. The right to forgive belongs to the victims, and to yourself."

Yalen placed a gentle hand on Jocasta's scalp, the same way he would comfort a crying child. When he did so, his sixth sense detected an influx of energy being drawn into her body. She was like a wild cat being touched for the first time. "The only choice that is truly our own, is the choice of whether to accept what we see before us." "In you... I indeed see a sinner. A murderer, but I don't believe that is who you are deep inside. I can feel the good in you, and I know you didn't just protect us for the sake of the warden's mission. You did what you had to do to survive your terrible circumstances." Without warning, he reached out and forced her face into his chest. Trapped in his hug, Jocasta could no longer see Yalen's face, but it was easy to feel the hammering of his heartbeat.

"I accept all that you are, and I know the others do too. If you ever feel yourself stray from the path of justice again, think of us. We met as strangers, but by brushing with death we have all gained something deeper than friendship. We will never betray you." Seconds went by and Jocasta remained unresponsive, but eventually she moved her hands from the floor to embrace Yalen in return.

”Cute.” The two tethered were so focused on each other that they hadn’t felt Zarina slip into the room unannounced. Yalen looked over to see her throw him a cheeky grin from behind a glass of water. Turning full 180, she stepped out of the room and closed the door. The Virangish waited by the entrance for a few minutes, making sure the two blondes had their moment unperturbed.

"Well I think we both heard that. The others must be waiting outside. Let's not keep them any longer. Yalen gave Jocasta one final pat on the back and helped her back onto her seat, taking care to provide enough support without outright babying her. He got up and made for the door, and when he opened it he could still see Zarina giving him the look. It was good that she was having fun he supposed, though he wished she would tone down the sauciness once in a while. "Good to see you Zarina. Please, come in. Yalen held the door open and politely gestured for her to proceed. She took the invitation and stepped into the room, although she kept to the edges and didn’t appear to want to be noticed all too much, ”I hope you can excuse my lack of participation,” Zarina speaks up before others may join, ”I don’t exactly share the same enthusiasm for the Pentad as some others might.” and yet here she was.

Shortly after, Ayla came in with a big knowing smile as she made her way towards Jo. She sat beside the girl, her hand being placed within Jo's reach as if being offered for her to take it. "We do have a lot of discuss about the petition. It can be rather dry, so we were thinking... ... why not make a girls night out of it? We can see about arranging some nice food, some music, some... privacy for talking. Try to lighten the atmosphere a bit. It has almost been non-stop since we came here. Very exhausting."

Yalen and Zarina exchanged pleasantries while Ayla and Jocasta had their own little conversation. Kaspar eventually turned up as well, though he was a few minutes late. Everyone that needed to be here was now present.

”Everyone, I cannot express how happy I am that you’ve agreed to sit with me tonight. It seems our final trial awaits, and I grow fearful for our safety. With such an uncertain fate awaiting us, it was my hope to bring all of us under one roof to seek the Pentad’s grace. You need not close your eyes or bow your heads. I know a couple of you do not share my enthusiasm for the Menana, and that is okay, for it is enough that you are here. Now, let’s proceed without delay.”

”Tonight I borrow inspiration from the life of Lysander the Worldbinder. It is he who is said to have crossed the Ensollian Sea and entered the land of Zaqhora, where he sought to claim the Sword of Kings and become the chosen prophet of Eshiran. At the time, the holy relic was in the possession of the pharaoh Amunkhare, who in the age of myths commanded the greatest dynasty of ancient Severa. After much deliberation, the mighty pharaoh did agree to relinquish the treasured blade, and revealed the location of its tomb. However, Lysander found the sword protected by the most cunning of trials. Five mighty gates barred the way to the relic, and five tests to unseal them. The night before delving into the tomb, the Worldbinder sat with his closest companions and called to the gods for protection and strength. Since then, circles like these have become traditional practice among the more devout practitioners of Quentism. With that all said, let us pray.”

Yalen placed his right hand beneath his left shoulder. ”I speak to Ipte, designer of all this world’s love and beauty. Thank you for blessing us with the bonds of new friendship. Though we may not see eye to eye in all things, our kindred spirits have tied our fates together. Let this meeting not be a chance encounter, but a relationship that we carry to the end of our lives. Let your love touch the residents of this sanctuary, so that they may overcome the wounds in their hearts and live on.”

Yalen placed his left hand beneath his right shoulder. ”I speak to Shune, the all seeing and all knowing one. This sacred mission has been a learning experience for all of us. Here in this foreign land, we encounter new ideas and perspectives that would be out of reach within our own narrow understanding. Bless us Enlightened One, for we need your guidance now more than ever. In order to save the tethered, we must negotiate on their behalf and show the world that they are not a people to be feared. It is ignorance that plagues this land, and we seek to be the cure.”

Yalen placed his left hand on his right hip. ”I speak to Oraff, my beloved patron and creator of life as we know it. In the face of grave danger, we plea to you for preservation. In order to destroy the mad wyrm, we must put many lives at stake. Perhaps some of us shall meet our end. If any are to fall tomorrow, I humbly ask that they may go in peace, without any undue suffering. Protect those with righteousness in their hearts, for it is they who shall lead this world unto a brighter future.”

Yalen placed his right hand on his left hip. ”I speak to Eshiran, whose power and fury we rightfully fear. Mighty destroyer, grant us the strength to do your deeds. For those willing to fight, give them the courage and strength to persevere. Many of those who will stand on the field tomorrow have never known the fear of battle. Look upon us and smile, as we fight for the sake of those too weak to fight for themselves. In order to protect that which we hold dear, please empower us.”

Finally, Yalen brought his hands together just below his chest. “Last but not least I speak to Dami, the holder of the scales and dispenser of the holy law. Of the judge most supreme, I request your guiding hand as we strive to do what we think is right. This refuge is not a place of peace as we once believed. It is a prison. A monument to the hubris of evil men. We will face opposition from those who seek to hide their dark deeds from the world. Strike down their fallacious words. Let no falsehoods remain. As arbiters of justice, we shall overturn this flawed system and deliver hope to the people.”

After having said so much, the young priest needed a long moment to catch his breath. Once he had collected himself, he unclasped his hands and looked towards Zarina, who was still playing the part of the wallflower. To her, he offered a warm smile. Unbeknownst to her, the prayer was not yet over.

”...I know little of the Dreamer believed to slumber at the heart of our world. Whether such a being exists is beyond the extent of my faith. If this existence truly is a product of Vashdal’s dream… then I can only pray that their slumber continues to be a pleasant one.”

For a moment, Jocasta simply sat here, cross-legged, palms pressed together. It had been… years since last she’d prayed, but the motions had been drilled into her at some point in the part of her life she did not remember and subsequently reinforced during her time at San Agustin. She closed her eyes for a moment. “This, we ask of you,” she concluded. “In nomini Ipte, Shune, Oraff, Eshiran, Dami. Amen.” She opened them and it was finished.

---

Nothing unusual transpired as Yalen went through his morning routine. He got out of bed nice and early and bowed his head in silent conversation with the Creator, thankful to be alive for one more glorious day. After cleansing his body and getting dressed he left his room and made for the administrative tower as instructed. Unlike the past couple of days, the weather was pleasantly cool and overcast. He listened and observed as children around the refuge scurried about, cheering excitedly for the rain to come down.

Yalen was in high spirits during the meeting, his slumber no longer plagued by ill dreams. He tucked into his breakfast with gratitude, sampling a small bit of every dish on the table. He listened carefully to the words of Amanda and Don Escarra as he ate, and when the subject of managing the children came up he was quick to volunteer.

”I am prepared to fight when necessary, but I feel that I am better off watching the kids. There are others here more powerful than I who would do a better job at capturing the Vice-Wardens, and I have already gained the favor of some of the young ones.”

O R I F L A M M E

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”Come on Misha, we need to go faster!” “Who is shouting at who now you oaf!?” Gerard’s apprentices witnessed their master’s defeat from afar and sallied out in hopes of rescuing him. Misha had floated them along with two horses over a narrow bend in the river, and now the pair were riding in a straight line towards the site of battle. The female Rezaindian’s force magic had no ill effect on their steeds, for the war horses of Parrence were well bred indeed.

Tristan and Misha charged along the riverbank, managing to avoid the bulk of the fighting as they searched for Gerard along the flank. Any who sought to impede the two’s way found their weapons striking air, as their force driven stallions were simply too swift.

”I see him! Slow us down!” Tristan pointed towards the unconscious Gerard, who lay unmoving on the shoreline. He was not alone. Four soldiers battled closeby, and by the looks of things it was three versus one. Despite the odds, the trio of warriors were getting torn to pieces by the lone woman. By the time the acolytes arrived at the side of their fallen master, the Eskandr huntress was already sucking the life out of her defeated enemy. The sight did not go unnoticed by Tristan, who unsheathed his sword while Misha loaded Gerard onto an oddly calm horse that had been waiting conveniently close by.

”Go ahead of me Misha! That man requires aid!” The priest cried out and sent his horse into a gallop, heading straight towards the embattled Parrench knight.

“Tristan, don’t!” The girl’s warning fell on deaf ears. He was already being flung off his horse by a powerful shockwave, and he would have surely fallen into the river like their master if Misha had not caught him with her telekinesis. Before she met the same fate, the lady Rezaindian beat a hasty retreat with the strangely abandoned steed close behind, which now carried her battered companions on its back. She didn’t stop until they were safely behind the Parrench defenses once again.

Code Vein (Closed)

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@dreamingflowers

Seeing the partially uprooted plant, Dallas could see Poppy in his mind's eye trying to desperately pull the vegetable out of the ground. The imaginary picture filled him with amusement. He grabbed the shovel and stabbed it into the ground with his foot, then effortlessly heaved the bulb out of the dirt. He might as well have been digging through pudding. The plant was quickly deposited in the basket, dirt and all. It was the first of many.

The job was a surprisingly nice change from getting chewed up by monsters all month long. Dallas eventually settled into a rhythm and soon his body was on autopilot, leaving his mind free to think about other things. The throbbing headache was starting to fade away as his body processed the hangover and a vestige's worth of new memories. It was getting to the point where he could recall the new information naturally.

Dallas occasionally looked sideways at Poppy to observe her as she worked, noting how dexterous her hands were with a knife. The two of them had never been chatty with each other, but it never hurt to keep trying to close the gap. With that resolve in mind, he called out to her while poking his shovel under another bulbous plant.

"Are these beets or something? What are you going to use the roots for?"

The Hourglass Order

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Location: Yalen's temporary quarters

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Hmm? I thought something smelled strange about the food, but I guess it was just my imagination. Yalen poked at the bowl of gazpacho with his spoon cautiously. For a split second, his somewhat sensitive nose picked up an odd scent underneath the strong aroma of tomatoes and olive oil. When he took a spoonful into his mouth though, the soup tasted normal.

Dinnertime in Torragon was apparently a light affair, but Yalen wasn’t extremely hungry to begin with. It was refreshing to have something so easy to eat after being nauseated by exhaustion. When he was halfway finished with his soup, the blonde priest was interrupted by a gentle knocking on his door. He scooted out of his chair and went to answer, and was pleasantly surprised to see who his guest was.

”Hi mista Yawen!” It was Rita and her Segonese chaperone. The guardswoman’s face was beaded with sweat, as if she had been heavily exerting herself only moments ago.

”I apologize for the intrusion brother. The little one would not relent until I agreed to let her see you before curfew.” She looked down towards Rita, who was fidgeting with something behind her back. The energetic kid was unusually bashful for some reason.

“Um, um… this is… for you!” Rita forced something into Yalen’s pocket before dashing off with a blush around her ears.

”Rita!” ”Rita!” The two grownups cried out in unison. They shared a look with each other, and the woman put her face in her hand and sighed.

”What am I going to do with that girl? I have two dozen kids to watch over, yet every day it feels like my attention is focused exclusively on her. Forgive my rude interruption, I should have known you were having your meal. I better go make sure she’s properly heading for her quarters.” The guard gave Yalen a casual salute and began heading back out the door. It was strange that they’d met three times now but he still didn’t know her name. In the interest of getting to know the lady better, he called towards her.

”A minute please Senhora!” The guardswoman turned her head back towards Yalen. ”I forget my manners. Not once have I asked for your name. Would you do me this favor?”

”Talya.” She started walking back towards him again. ”Is something the matter Brother Castel?”

”Oh no, it’s nothing serious. I was wondering if you’d like some tea before you depart?”

”Um…” Talya raised an eyebrow at Yalen. He understood to an extent that his offer might be poorly timed, but he made the offer nonetheless. Having grown fond of Rita, he now felt compelled to learn a little more about the little girl’s chaperone.

”I suppose I am a little thirsty. I can’t stay long though. I will be on duty for a while yet.” Talya crossed the threshold of the doorway and entered Yalen’s quarters, taking a seat at the one table in the middle of the room. She unburdened herself by leaning her polearm against the wall behind her.

The room was quiet save for Yalen’s tampering with the cups and pot. He carefully shaved a few flakes off a lump of tea and filled each cup with simmering water. After a minute passed, the young monk could hear repressed laughter coming from behind him. He looked behind himself in confusion, and noticed that his guest no longer possessed her cool professional demeanor. Rather, her lips were curled up in an amused smirk.

”Ah, sorry, sorry. I just couldn’t contain myself. I find this situation somehow amusing.” Yalen nearly dropped the teacups in his hands when he heard the familiar voice, but managed to control himself. Despite this, his skin tingled as goosebumps crept up all over his body. Less than a day had passed since he ‘met’ the Traveler, but now the enigma had apparently come to visit Yalen in person.

”Relax boy, this is the real world. I’m not actually here to kill your friends you know.”

”Then why do you reveal yourself to me once again, Traveler? I… I did not think we'd meet again so soon.” Yalen’s face was like stone as he spoke to the supreme being seated before him.

”I guess I wanted to congratulate you. You and your friends have exceeded my expectations thus far. I truly thought you would all perish in that desert.” The disguised Traveler leaned forward and clasped her hands together on top of the table. "Not only did you make it out alive, but you now stand poised to change the lives of these refugees forever. A grand turn of events."

Yalen approached the table and took a seat, sliding one of the cups towards the Traveler with a trembling hand before sipping from his own. He was fighting his instinctual fear in order to hold a conversation with one of the world’s most powerful wizards. ”H-have you… known about our mission since the beginning?”

”Of course I did. I know all about your friends too. Hugo was smart to stick Jocasta with a bunch of do-gooders like you. I thought she would pile up a lot more bodies before leaving this place.” The Traveler covered her mouth and chuckled darkly at that last remark.

Yalen sighed heavily after hearing the Traveler’s words. ”So… it’s true.” He hung his head dejectedly.

”Did you really hope for a different answer? You heard what your friend Ayla said. The only ones to leave this prison are those trained to be killers. Jocasta has been an active assassin for a while now.”

Yalen shook his head. ”I… I knew nothing for sure, but I did have my suspicions. I just don’t -” He straightened up and looked at the Traveler sadly. “I don’t understand what would make it worth it. I know Jocasta is a good person. What was so awful about this place that she would kill to get away from here?

The older woman picked up her cup and downed its contents in a single gulp. ”What indeed…?” A biscuit floated across the room and into the Traveler’s waiting hand which she then bit into. The way she conducted herself, Yalen wondered if she was trying to get under his skin for her amusement. But the aloofness disappeared quickly as her eyes suddenly locked with his.

”Well, it turns out there was another use for her body besides murdering reprobates.”

Yalen swallowed the lump in his throat. ”Don’t tell me-”

”It was that man named Joaquin. Oh, he was insatiable. Every night he ravaged her. I believe she took his life shortly after the other caretaker… whatever his name was. It’s difficult for me to remember someone as boring as that.” The Traveler dunked the last of her biscuit in Yalen’s soup and finished it.

The young priest didn’t shed any tears, for his heart had already cried enough. Yet, what he’d heard impacted him all the same. It took a good deal of willpower to resist the urge to lean over and vomit.

”Breathe child. Breathe.”

Yalen closed his eyes and inhaled as commanded. As he did so, he felt an alien sensation he only recognized from his practical lessons at Ersand’Enise. The Traveler was changing his body’s chemistry. In that moment he feared for the worst, but whatever the transcendent mage did had a positive effect. The nausea and anxiety were suddenly gone.

Once he finally got a hold of himself, Yalen exhaled and calmly looked towards the Traveler. ”Why? Why do you think I deserve to know this?”

She shrugged in response. ”You would learn of it eventually. My predictions aren’t always accurate, but I believe she plans to spill the beans anyways. Tonight in fact. I’m telling you now for two reasons. First, I didn’t want you to overreact in front of a crowd of strangers. Second, I wanted you to start thinking seriously about the future.” The Traveler disappeared from her chair and re-appeared behind Yalen. She wrapped both hands around his shoulders and spoke into his ear.

”Sweet little Jo can be a powerful ally… but staying by her side means accepting everything. Her past. The people she has hurt. The people she has killed. Someday, she may even be compelled to do it again. But Jocasta is hurting too, you know. For what she’s done, I don’t think anyone could hate her more than she hates herself.” The monk shuddered as he felt the Traveler’s breath brush against his skin.

I… Yalen stared blankly ahead as a flood of questions and answers filled his mind. The truth was that he didn’t know what his true feelings were yet. The only way to know for sure would be to hear what Jocasta had to say for herself. Before he could say anything in return though, someone started knocking on the front door.

”A pity, but it looks like our little chat is over for now. Go with your classmates. Save this sanctuary. We shall meet again someday. Until then, grow stronger my boy, and continue to hone your spirit. Do not bore me.”

As "Talya" went to depart once more, Yalen stood up. ”Wait!” She stopped and turned back towards him with a questioning look. ”Why do you have such an interest in me?”

The Traveler grinned wolfishly. "I don't feel like telling you yet. Goodbye for now, Mr. Castel."

TL;DR

Yalen is having a meal in his room before meeting with the others when he receives a surprise visitor. The two chat for a while, and his suspicions about Jocasta are confirmed and then some. They are interrupted by one of Yalen's classmates who have come to bring him to tonight's gathering.

O R I F L A M M E

---

Events: The king's death(?) - Duel between the Flame of Extermination and Hrothgar the Black - The Queen's Intervention
Location: Outside the harbor

---

Gerard surveyed the engagement happening to the south from his perch atop the city walls. After cleverly peeling apart Relouse’s defenses with tactics and sorcery, Hrothgar the Black had finally made landfall. He and his elite champions were taking the beach by storm, and it seemed that the Parrench forces were in disarray. Those rallying around the Queen had become the most cohesive fighting unit still defending the beach and the outer harbor.

“What’s taking so long Tristan!? We’re losing him!” ”Stop shouting at me damn it! I’ve never treated a man who got hit by lightning!” Gerard’s two apprentices were huddled around the unmoving body of Captain Auclair, who had suffered mortal damage from the massive lightning strikes. Tristan was doing his best to stabilize him with essence magic, but the officer was showing no signs of regaining consciousness.

Gerard turned back towards his acolytes and gazed upon the captain’s lifeless body. ”Don’t waste any more magic on him. If he hasn’t woken up by now then he’s already gone.”

Tristan nodded gravely and rose to his feet, ceasing all efforts to bring Auclair back. Misha was stunned by this and immediately began marching towards her master, grabbing his arm and shaking violently. “We’re not talking about some grunt soldier here! He’s a nobleman! We have to keep trying!”

Gerard threw her hands away with an unusual amount of aggression. ”He’s gone! Feel for his manas! You and I both know it’s true! This is a gods damned war, you can’t be so soft anymore!” The raven haired apprentice looked like she was going to tear up and cry, but held it in somehow. Tristan approached from behind and held her shoulder comfortingly, but appeared to be in agreement with their superior.

Another wave of hail blew across the walls, though Gerard had been constantly protecting their position by turning the ice into water before it landed. The fact that he was having a conversation with the younger priests all the while was a testament to his skill and concentration. The poor weather was taking its toll however. The troops were becoming demoralized by the wind and rain, which made the ground hard to walk on and chilled each man to the bone.

“Master, what now? Without the captain, where shall we-” Tristan was interrupted as a soldier sprinted towards them from one of the battlements.

“The king! The king has fallen!” The messenger shouted at the top of his lungs. Those men who were still in fighting shape looked at each other doubtfully, and some began to lament their defeat under their breaths. This was devastating news. Losing the king meant losing the entire war. What could they possibly do without a leader to rally around? Even if Parrence survived this war, the now unified country would again devolve to infighting between petty warlords and would-be successors.

When word of the king’s death reached his ears, the air around Gerard seemed to change. Under his hood, his eyes were gleaming with rage.

They’ve doomed this nation with their avarice.This cannot stand any longer. If they fancy themselves kingslayers, then we shall give them the same treatment. The elder Rezaindian looked at his apprentices and began to lay out their next orders.

”If we are to survive this battle, we must destroy Hrothgar.”

”What?” “What!?” The two neophytes exclaimed in unison. Gerard walked back to the edge of the wall and looked upon the beach, where Hrothgar was cutting down the Parrench vanguard like wheat.

”If we take them by surprise, I can kill Hrothgar myself. I will hide my image while Misha sends me down and provides support with her Force magic. Tristan, protect my body from internal attacks. With our combined strength, we can land a fatal blow against the heathen army and save this city.”

After Gerard finished speaking, Misha again grabbed at his robes. “Master this is suicide! You’ve heard the reports! That man possesses godlike power! I won’t see you become a martyr!”

”DO AS I SAY!” Gerard shoved her so hard she nearly fell to the ground. ”We have a duty to Echeran and this country to DESTROY the sea people!” He started restlessly pacing back and forth while breathing heavily. This was not the calm Gerard from before. It was like another man had taken over his body.

”My first barrage may fail. If I enter into a pitched battle with their king, you must wait for an opening and hit him with everything you have. I will use the opportunity to end his life with all my power.” Gerard grabbed Misha’s shoulders and brought his face very close to hers. ”Misha, I will need you most of all. Augment my movements. I cannot face Hrothgar in a battle of strength. I would not even consider striking against that monster without you two here to help. You have to believe me.” The apprentice girl recoiled slightly from her master, intimidated by his maddened demeanor.

”Misha, we have little time to debate. If the Eskandr close in from the north and south, we will be able to reach the black king no longer.” Tristan said, attempting to convince his partner. Her eyes moved between the two of them fearfully, but after a few seconds of internal debate she seemed to relent.

“Fine… fine. I’ll do it. Master, I only ask one thing of you. Please come back to us.”
I can’t promise you that. Gerard thought to himself as he nodded in agreement.

---

🎵

Gerard was so dearly close to his prey now. As the bastard king and his dogs of war carved their way through the Parrench defensive line, the Rezaindian hunter stalked through the battlefield like a ghost. Nearly invisible to the naked eye and silent as a cat’s footfall, the only sign of his existence were the fast fading footsteps he left in the muddied sand. With dozens, if not hundreds of soldiers swarming the beach, even a seasoned mage would have difficulty detecting the presence of Gerard’s manas. It was the perfect backdrop for an assassination.

Any lesser man would have recoiled in terror at the prospect of approaching the king of Eskand. It was like an archdemon had descended upon the earth. Any who were not consumed by darkness were torn to pieces by the beastly thralls surrounding Hrothgar the Black. The king himself appeared nigh invincible, striking with such force that his poleaxe didn’t even need to touch the Parrench soldiers for them to explode in a shower of gore. The sight made Gerard’s heart race with excitement. The more wickedness displayed by the heathen invaders, the more they vindicated his belief that they should be cremated alive.

Then, Gerard felt a moment of clarity. The flow of battle slowed as the Queen’s forces viciously fought Hrothgar’s elite troops to a standstill. Gaps in Eskand’s shield walls formed as the outnumbered raiders reformed their ranks to hold off the increasing number of defenders. If he could slip through, Gerard would only have to confront Hrothgar himself and the remains of his honor guard. This was the best chance the warrior priest would get.

With his speed enhanced by Misha’s remote Force magic, Gerard easily sprinted through the enemy line. He had to hop over corpses, dodge arrows, and sidestep flying bodies in order to get close enough to his target. With dogged persistence he chased Hrothgar, until finally he was upon him. The despot was close enough now that Gerard could hear him bark insults at the Queen’s soldiers, laughing at them in his disgusting, barbaric tongue. All it would take was one well placed spell to shut that mouth forever. Magic was not out of reach to him, even in the bitter cold of the wind and rain. From the warmth radiating off the bodies of a thousand warriors, to the residual heat trapped within the veins of the earth, there was energy aplenty for any mage with the sense to draw from it.

But it seemed Gerard had grown overconfident in his camouflage. As he neared Hrothgar’s position and drew energy in preparation for his attack, the pagan king stopped shouting and scanned the battlefield with his bale eyes. When they fell directly upon the encroaching priest, his heart nearly stopped. The lord of Eskand had effortlessly seen through his disappearing act. But Gerard’s thirst for revenge was far stronger than any fear, and when Hrothgar began to point and shout, his own hand was already moving. He would give the king’s bodyguards no time to react.

From his belt he retrieved a hard leather flask. Gerard pulled the cork out with his teeth and poured the contents into his mouth. Like a man hunting Froabass, he expelled a massive breath of fire that practically engulfed Hrothgar and his war beasts.

---

That was… a nice fire, Hrothgar had to admit. Theatrical too. A certain part of him had always enjoyed the arts and theatre: a part of him that now found expression only in moments like today since he had taken the crown. Of course, the Eskandr king of kings was nowhere near the Red Rezaindian’s attack. The moment he had felt the man creeping up on his position, he had remained still and sent an illusion ahead: one visible only to a few grunt soldiers who he’d light-bent into looking like an honour guard and the Parrench fool who was now roasting them with an unsettling sort of glee.

Hrothgar was already moving and, when he appeared, he was behind the man, eyes bugged out, howling like a beast, and raising his mighty flaming poleaxe overhead to deliver a deadly strike.

Gerard cut the flow of his spell when he heard Hrothgar’s war cry, but there was no way he was going to avoid this unseen assault. At least, that would be the case if he were fighting alone. He felt an invisible hand’s tug, and he was pulled away just before the king’s axe sundered the ground beneath them, sending several other men reeling. As Misha released her supportive spell, Gerard spun back around to face his foe.

“So, you have some friend help you, eh boy?” Hrothgar mocked in horrible Parrench. “Sure this are not your Gods!?”

“Do not speak of my deities lightly, you godless cretin.” Gerard replied in grammatically perfect Eskandish. The king could laugh all he wanted, but he had left himself open for an instant too long. This was the opportunity Gerard needed. He knew his apprentices wouldn’t miss this chance either. The priest pointed his staff at Hrothgar and began to funnel his drawn energy toward its crystal core. Men nearby would begin to feel a chill as the warmth was stolen from the very air around them. In order to buy the time needed for this deathblow, Tristan and Misha would slow him down with a combined effort of Essence and Force.

Little effort was required for Hrothgar to brush off their attacks. Their power was negligible next to what he could muster, but he was delayed for a couple of seconds, and that was all the time needed for Gerard to unleash the full extent of his arcane mastery. He pointed his staff at the lord of Eskand and let everything go.

”WITNESS YOUR DOOM!” It was the grandest of arcane lances. It was a beam so focused that it could have torn an entire castle wall asunder. Only a spell of equal caliber would turn such a devastating attack aside. Gerard truly thought that he had Hrothgar’s head. Yet, fate was not written in stone, and the man he was facing was no ordinary wizard.

The king of kings threw his hands out to absorb the lance, realizing the danger almost immediately. This ‘rezaindian’ was impressive. The mighty arcane lance - spear of Eshiran-Zept - died in midair, its energy flaring, dimming, and being sucked into a vortex of nothingness as Hrothgar drew it away. So intense was the display that many flinched and hid their eyes. More than a few opportunistic kills were scored among the soldiery on both sides.

Yet, the lance grew nearer, its power not tapering off in the slightest and the Eskandr king could not draw it all fast enough. Capacity wasn’t the issue: it was sheer drawing speed. A final burst broke through and burned him, and a snarl of pain, like that of a wounded bear, could be heard. When people were done blinking, they could see a charred, blasted hand, smoking and steaming with crisped flesh. Hrothgar turned to Gerard, livid. “You think you hurt me, Re-Sane-Die-An.” His eyes practically glowed with energy and, as everybody watched, the damaged flesh reconstituted itself, healed in barely more than a second, as if harm had never been done to it. “My gods,” Hrothgar mocked, “strong than your gods.” An enormous, toothy grin split the lower half of his face. “Now, little red man, you die.”

Gerard was too stunned for words. One of his most powerful spells, which had already taken the lives of over a hundred Eskandr, had been repelled single handedly merely by drawing. No counterspell, no attempt at avoidance, just drawing. What had started as a seemingly winnable fight now looked like a prolonged death sentence for Gerard. He could already feel a MASSIVE amount of energy welling up within the king’s body. Misha would be hopelessly outmatched if she tried to protect him now. Even if he himself tried to deflect it, he could tell that his magical capacity still paled in comparison to Hrothgar’s.

Like a boon from the gods, a pale light bathed the local area. A magical flare, a signal from the Queen as she led her strongest warriors in a piercing charge through the Eskandr shield walls. Her Highness had the perfect read on the situation and had rushed to support Gerard just in time. He too saw the opportunity and ran with everything he had, feeling his legs effortlessly gliding across the ground as his apprentice bolstered his movements. Queen Eleanor’s potent defenses would surely prevail against Hrothgar’s onslaught.

It was a fleeting hope. Hrothgar’s spells were too mighty, too fast. In the middle of Gerard’s mad dash for safety, the black king plucked him off the ground with an invisible fist. There was nothing his three and a half wheel subordinate could do. Gerard’s body ragdolled as he was launched towards the castle wall like a cannonball. There wasn’t even enough time for him to cry out. A loud thud could be heard as his body made impact, and his vision went dark.

---

Seconds ago, Eleanor had watched the world waver, and it made sense to her. She had seen her husband fall from the parapets, a lance through his chest, yet she still felt him as strongly and clearly as ever. This Eskandish monster - the man they bowed to as king - was an illusionist, and he had other illusionists to support him. Truly as clever as he was vile.

The Red Rezaindian who had taxed him so would be in need of her, and so she called on all of the Gift the Pentad had blessed her with and plowed through the enemy shield wall. Truly, she did not wish to harm any of these men and women. They had faces which held hopes and fears, anger, sadness, and laughter just like hers. They did not know the Gods and most would die here, never having known them. That pained her in a way that few would understand. Yet, they had come to harm her people, and the one who led them was a twisted thing. To him, she felt no compunctions about offering violence.

Yet, before the queen could do so much as meet his eyes, he had released a tremendous amount of energy and the priest hurtled for the castle walls. “Oraphe-Sept protect him!” Eleanor shouted, and she drew every bit of energy that she could from the human projectile, locking eyes with Horthgar and glaring.

Gerard Castello hit the wall, and he hit with force, yet he did not leave a stain on it as the Dame de Saumarre had. He splashed into the water and she could still feel the spark of life within him. Reaching out with Force, she began to pull his limp form to the surface.

A colossal blow took her in the side and she bit back a scream as she felt ribs cave in. Yet, the Queen had drawn a copious amount of energy herself and this, she now used to heal those same ribs and stop her momentum. She landed on her feet, ripped five wheels worth of power from the lightning that came opportunistically for her, and shot it at the Eskandr king.

Hrothgar had not expected such a quick recovery. That the Queen of these people would fight on the front lines like a common soldier was foolish, but brave. She tore Sweyn’s lightning from the clouds and hurled it at him, great crackling bolt after bolt. The first, he hurled a rock in the way of, but the second was unstoppable. Diving out of the way with a burst of Force magic, he nonetheless felt the searing heat warp the very air around him. The third, he drew from. Yet, when he looked around, people were staring at him bemusedly. Others looked up to the parapets, and Hrothgar knew the Queen’s Gambit for what it was: her goal had been to disrupt his illusion. “You are discovered, sorcerer,” she spat. “We see you for what you are.”

A great, frosty laugh echoed from the Eskandr king’s mouth. “Impressive, witch, but you will wish you -”

From nowhere leapt a blazing lance of light and it took the towering black figure in the shoulder. With a howl, Hrtohgar dropped to one knee. The ground shook with a thunderous impact and there appeared Arcel, King of Parrence, rising from a crouch and very much alive. He stood in the storm, Sanguinaire incandescent in his left hand, steam hissing and rising off of it from the violent clash of heat and water. "Get your filthy hide off of Parrench soil, heathen. Your foul tricks are as nothing before the power of Shune's Light!" He pointed the legendary sword at Hrothgar, the air around him crackling with arcane energy, and advanced. "Fight me!" he bellowed.

Hrothgar stood and, as he did, the hole in his shoulder healed as if it had never been there. His glare fixed upon the young king and his lips formed a thin line. Wordlessly, he drew a dozen longships to splinters and stalked forward, the very fabric of reality seeming to roil and warp as he moved.

---

Summary

Gerard receives news of Arcel's death and attempts to assassinate Hrothgar. After slaughtering a few worthless soldiers he is ambushed by the king, and the two engage in a short power struggle. Gerard does minor but impermanent damage and tries to flee. He is knocked unconscious by Hrothgar's force attack and thrown into the water, but his life is saved by the Queen who bravely charges through the Eskandr lines. The two royals clash briefly, and Hrothgar is forced to dispel his illusion. With the façade broken King Arcel is revealed to be alive, and he challenges the Eskandr king of kings to a duel.

Code Vein (Closed)

---

@dreamingflowers

Dallas was the first to get his hands on the letter addressed to the newcomers. It was exactly what he expected. Kind and well meaning, but businesslike in nature. Given that he'd hardly known Cerise, he didn't have any strong feelings about her departure. What was there to say to a mere acquaintance? Despite that, he also felt somewhat empathetic towards the more senior members of the Commune. He didn't know Cerise, but he knew what it was like to say goodbye to a long time friend. Wounds of the heart did not heal quickly, for a human or a revenant. This would affect the team's morale in a bad way.

After reading the brief missive, Dallas gently laid the paper on the table for Vincent and Desmond and turned towards Poppy. He decided to keep his words brief and not insult her with half hearted platitudes regarding losing Cerise.

"I'm not exactly the sleuthy type. I'll stay here this time and help you with whatever needs doing in the Crow's Nest." Dallas said with his arms crossed.

O R I F L A M M E

---

Location: Relouse city walls, near the eastern gate

“From Echeran’s scarlet throne…”
“Descends a power on high.”
“Safeguarding our souls…”
“Against struggle and strife.”
“To the Bringer of War…”
“Friend to the wielders of fire and sword.”
“Your servants pray to thee...”
“In our moment of direst need.”
“Grant us the courage to face the enemy...”
“Fill us with strength unequaled.”
“We are dogs that feed on carnage...”
“Our spirits flourish in the field of battle.”
“By your command we face war unending….”
“In the darkest of hours, we heed thy call.”
“We shall give no mercy. We shall show no fear.”
“In Echeran’s name we pray. Amen.”

The three Rezaindians sat cross legged atop the walls with their hands raised in prayer. While the garrison in the south engaged the Eskandr vanguard, those on the eastern battlements held themselves in reserve. As an auxiliary unit to Captain Auclair’s company, the trio of priests were under orders to remain on standby until further orders from the crown.

The captain’s men showed exceptional discipline as they moved materiel back and forth across the walls. He had drilled them well, and everyone seemed to know exactly where they were going. Onagers and ballistae were wheeled in or assembled on site while sleds full of ammunition delivered bolts and stones to their defensive positions. Barrels of arrows were dragged into place where the archers could easily restock.

Gerard stopped praying for a moment and twisted his upper body towards Auclair, who was eyeing the sky suspiciously. Unlike the common soldiery, the minor nobleman was clad in armor befitting his wealth. Heavy scales and lamellar plates shielded most of his body from harm. His status was conveyed by an intricate heraldic tabard which displayed his family’s crest and coat of arms. The plumage on the officer’s helmet blew about in every direction as a heavy wind slammed into the city walls, forcing many to brace themselves.

“What do your eyes see captain?” Gerard questioned. Captain Auclair angled his head slightly towards Gerard upon hearing his voice.

“The skies grow dark Red One, and storm clouds have begun to loom overhead. We may not be able to rely on your arcane power for much longer.”

“Do not worry. There is enough energy in this city for me to destroy a hundred longships.”

“Truly? Well, I hope it won’t be necessary. If they’re smart they’ll realize how outmatched they are and leave quickly.”

The defenders continued to bide their time. Gerard scraped a whetstone against his seax, vigorously sharpening the small sword in preparation for close combat. Tristan and Misha used their Gift to help move equipment around. Captain Auclair gave orders to the various squads under his command while occasionally stopping to speak to one of his aides. If one strained their ears, they could hear the sound of battle over the increasingly loud winds. The Eskandr vanguard must have landed and engaged their fighters on the beach.

Some time later, a messenger arrived at full sprint headed directly for the captain. The exhausted soldier raised the visor of his helmet and saluted.

“Sir, I bring news from the beach head! We have been deceived. The enemy is splitting its forces!” “What!? Are you sure?” Captain Auclair gently pushed his assistant away to give the messenger his undivided attention.

“Yes sir. Some of the lords are rallying men to defend the Witch Wood as we speak. How shall we respond?” The nobleman closed his eyes and considered the rapidly changing situation. Gerard and his two students began to rise to their feet, having overheard the new intelligence.

“What of our generals?” The older man inquired.

“The king’s orders still stand sir. They want us to hold our positions.”

“If we allow the heathens to capture our holds in the north and south, we will no longer be able to funnel them into our artillery. The tide of battle will flow heavily in favor of the enemy.” Captain Auclair grumbled. Gerard stamped his staff against the brickwork underfoot.

“That would be the assumption if we were following Parrench military doctrine, captain. The Eskandr do not fight like us. Their attack on the Witchwood may be a diversion. As your equal, I suggest you continue to consolidate this position.”

The officer’s face became quite severe, but after pondering over Gerard’s words he nodded his head in agreement. “Whether it is a full scale attack or a mere diversion, I am confident that His Majesty will answer appropriately. As you say, we should place our trust in the king and wait for further instructions.”

The Hourglass Order

---

One hour before departure

---

Location: Communal swimming pool

---

”Cannonbaaaaaaaaaaaaaall!“ Rita yelled as she took a running jump into the giant swimming pool. A deluge of water rained over Yalen’s head, who was treading water nearby. Finding his gills again was a challenging experience for the blonde teen. He hadn’t been in water deeper than his waist for a few months. Things turned out fine though. After stripping down to his underpants and settling in, he found that he was still capable of moving around in the water, albeit with slight difficulty.

“Whoa, nice one!” Yalen called out. He waded over to the ripple where he saw Rita dive in. Right as he did so, he felt a tiny pair of hands grip his ankles and pull downwards. He instinctively gulped down air before his head sank underwater.

In the crystal clear water it was easy to see Rita’s impish grin. The little girl did a raspberry at him before swimming away like a swordfish. She was surprisingly fast!

You little rascal! Yalen knew that this meant war. He immediately began pursuing his mischievous companion. The two of them raced under and over the water, never growing more than a couple feet apart. Rita was a stronger swimmer than he was, but she couldn’t overcome the difference in their wingspans. Each stroke he made was twice the length of the little Segonese girl. With some clever feinting and maneuvering, he eventually managed to touch her by the toes.

Now you’re going to get it! Yalen started tickling Rita’s feet as she attempted to flee from him yet again. Her kicking became frantic and she immediately went up for air. Yalen followed her up and found her full of giggles as always. ”That’s cheating mista Yawen!“ Rita started splashing water at him in protest. Yalen couldn’t keep himself from laughing along with her as he shielded his face from the watery onslaught. Remembering a trick that his big sister taught him, he cupped his hands and squirted a jet of water at Rita in retaliation. She joyfully shrieked and swam towards the middle of the pool where more swimmers were gathered.

“You won’t get away that easily!” Yalen was in hot pursuit. Little did he know he had stumbled into a trap. Seemingly out of nowhere, Rita emerged from the crowd of tethered with two other kids swimming close behind. His eyes widened as they all raised their arms in unison. ”Get hiiiiim!“ Rita and her friends attacked Yalen relentlessly, forcing him to retreat. Damn, he didn’t expect her to bring allies!

---

The hour went by so fast. Yalen hadn’t had this much fun in a while. Every day at Ersand’Enise was spent studying and practicing so he could keep up with his peers. This mission from the paradigm had been draining as well, physically and mentally. Though he was more tired than one might want to be before a difficult expedition, the young monk was happier than ever. This break was good for him.

After drying himself off and redressing, Yalen met back with Rita who was also about done changing back into her clothes. When she saw him, the rambunctious kid tackled him in the shins and looked up with her big brown eyes.

”Tanks for playing wif me mista Yawen!“ Rita shouted with glee. Yalen nodded and playfully ruffled her damp hair.“Yeah. It was a lot of fun. You're a really good swimmer Rita, I could barely keep up!”

”I luvta swim! I'm the fassest one in da whole refuge!“ Yalen's tiny companion made a mock paddling motion with her hands while bragging about her skill. The older of the two nodded along knowingly. He knew firsthand how much kids loved to show off. He bent forward a little more so that he wasn't looking down at her so much.

“I bet you could swim across the entire ocean in no time.”

”The oceeeeaaaaaan! I hearda that! Some a' da big kids talk about it!“ At that, Yalen raised an eyebrow. She was strangely mystified by the word 'ocean' despite living in a country bordered by it on all sides.

“Haven't you ever seen the ocean Rita?” He questioned. Rita shook her head. ”Nuh uh. Neva been outside. Outside isn't safe. Rita's been here since foweva!“

Yalen's mouth opened and closed like a fish. Before he could respond to his little friend's admission, he heard someone whistle from behind. He turned around to see the Segonese guardswoman from yesterday. Despite the heat, she was still wearing her stuffy uniform.

"Forgive the interruption Brother Castel. It is time. The others are already at the gate awaiting your arrival."

Even with Jocasta shielding the party from the worst of the desert winds, Yalen was still feeling uncomfortably hot. He had long since shed his outer robe and tied it around his camel’s neck. Miatto's natives were no stranger to the occasional heat wave, but those times were spent hiding indoors or dipping one’s feet in the local river.

Yalen uncapped his water flask and took a cool drink of water. It was a simple task to draw the heat out of the flask beforehand. The budding arcanist half considered using the so-called lich’s touch on himself out of desperation, but ultimately decided against it. Giving yourself hypothermia was not a great way to beat the heat.

Their second encounter with Halassa gave them a bit of a fright, though the guards had things well under control. Thankfully, it didn’t seem like these ones were aberration mad. Yalen had no desire to boil any more brains while he was here. Though the overgrown tortoises were persistent, the ranger Escarra showed an impressive level of restraint. His small act of mercy was an example Yalen wanted to follow.

Difficulties continued to hamper the group’s progress. An aggressive rhinodon charged straight through the caravan, and inexperienced as he was Yalen was barely able to get his camel out of the way. Neither the guards nor Zarina found themselves able to calm the beast, but it eventually lost interest in them after smelling the air for something. But what?

"The hoodoos!" shouted Escarra. ”Now!” Their ranger took off in a full gallop. Yalen had no idea what the danger was, but he wasn’t going to stop and ask questions when everyone was about to take off without him. He got his camel up to full speed and followed. It became clear soon after that a sand storm was about to engulf them, but the nearby cliff and rocky spires served well enough as shelter.

When the storm had passed, it left behind some previously unspotted ruins. The party gratefully took shelter just past the entrance and stopped for lunch. While Yalen tucked into a simple meal of bread and cheese, he was unexpectedly joined by Ayla. The two of them had a pleasant conversation, though some disturbing revelations were made that gave Yalen serious pause for thought.
[see collaboration with Ti for full conversation]

The party was on the move once more. Remounting his camel took a bit of effort on Yalen’s part, and one of the guards had to help him halfway. While passively scanning the desert for possible threats, Yalen’s consciousness touched something he didn’t expect to. He fearfully withdrew his mental probe. It was the aberration. He shared a look with Marceline and Jocasta. There was no way they didn’t sense it too.

"I can feel it," announced the youngest of the trio, moving up closer to the head of the pack. She pointed further down the canyon. "Not sure exactly how far." She glanced back towards Jocasta and the older girl took a moment to catch up. "About...uh... eight miles away," she decided, and Escarra scowled, brow furrowed in momentary thought. "Then we go," he announced. "On the return, no dinner." Suiting words to action, he coaxed some more speed out of his camel, and the group pressed forward.

The further the caravan traveled into Eshiran’s Throat, the more froabasses could be seen roosting along the edges of the cliffs. It would be impossible to evade them in the canyon. Yalen kissed his holy necklace and uttered a few words of prayer under his breath.

The tethered detected the sand wyrm after a couple hours, and apparently it detected them as well. Escarra barely had time to point everyone towards a rocky outcropping before the sand came alive right behind them. Even after reaching the shelter of the cliff side, the group still found itself threatened by the growing draconic presence in the area. Over a dozen froabasses had descended on their position, drawn by freshly exposed prey. Some of the dragons came dangerously close to the camels and instigated a panic among the animals.

Yalen nearly had his neck injured by whiplash when his camel bolted without warning. His feeble attempts to soothe the beast went unanswered and he was eventually tossed off his saddle. After shaking off his dizziness, the fragile cleric realized he was now on open sand and in plain view of the flying predators. He wasn’t the only one either. Practically the entire party had been scattered save for Escarra and Zarina.

A massive scaly body landed heavily a few feet away from where Yalen lay, causing a cloud of sand to kick into the air. There was no mercy in the eyes of the starving dragon. He could see saliva dripping out of its jagged maw. With no combat training or experience, the only thing that saved Yalen was his desperate survival instinct. He held out his golden sunset medallion and drew to his full capacity as fast as humanly possible.

“Ahn-Shune, grant me your light!” Yalen closed his eyes just before the blinding flash erupted from his hand. The froabass shrieked in pain as its optic nerves were temporarily overloaded. It clawed at the sand and thrashed about with its tail, nearly killing Yalen in the process. With all the strength he had he first crawled, then sprinted away, running faster than he ever had in his entire life. His eyes were half-blind with sweat and tears, otherwise he might have gotten a full view of the massacred guards and camels strewn about the sand. Yalen knew what was happening. His nose was sensitive to the smell of blood.

He was dearly close to his friends now. Yalen could see the guards and the other students doing whatever they could to repel the dragons. The beasts were beaten back with guns and magic alike, but their numbers appeared limitless. His skin grew hot as a nearby froabass attempted to roast him with a gout of fire. Yalen’s immediate reaction was to erect a crude barrier using Binding, having witnessed Kaspar employing the same strategy before. It was too thin to stop the dragon itself, but the flames spewing from its mouth were repelled.

The beast knew its breath attack had failed and swiftly advanced on Yalen, intending to tear him apart directly. The exhausted cleric was taxed for Mana and rapidly running out of ideas. He had no camel to ride, no Kinesis to carry him away from danger. As he numbly faced his own demise, Yalen’s thoughts began to echo with the words of the Traveller.

“Is it really your duty to preserve all life?”

So I now have to choose between my life and that of Oraff’s creations? Yalen gazed at the approaching froabass dispassionately. There was no choice to be made. He was no hero. His body trembled with fear. Lacking the strength to save himself or his friends, he closed his eyes and waited for the end.

He didn’t feel the claws ripping into his flesh. As he stood there with his eyes closed, Yalen experienced something beyond pain, a growing pressure that threatened to tear him apart from the inside.

It hurts…! What’s happening to me? It was like having the worst case of indigestion, migraine, and muscle cramps all at the same time. Yalen fell to his knees and dry heaved. With his sixth sense he could tell someone was drawing a massive amount of energy. It was far more than any one of them should have been capable of. Even the sisters with their huge capacities could kill themselves by overdrawing like this! As he collapsed into the sand, Yalen could just barely see Jocasta rising into the air. But his body and Manas were too weak to resist the wave of raw power. He could feel himself blacking out as the froabasses disappeared from sight.

He didn’t know how long it took for the pressure to subside, but eventually Yalen’s consciousness returned. One of the others shook him awake and pulled him to his feet. Yalen was eventually able to limp back to the group unaided. Everyone looked to be in bad shape. Not all of them had made it. Whatever Jocasta did, it had left her looking much worse for wear.

"I tried to get the wyrm," she rasped, "but I couldn't. The froabasses are... nine miles from here, with their food. They won't be bothering us anymore." She blinked a couple of times, clearly woozy, and tried to sit up, but she needed help to do it. "We need to stop the wyrm. It's headed for the aberration. If it gets there..." She paused. A dark look had crossed Marceline's face. Kneeling in the sand, she knit and unknit her fingers and shook her head tightly. "I cannot sense the aberration anymore," she squeaked, looking to Yalen for confirmation. "I fear we are too late."

Yalen wasn’t thinking about the wyrm or the aberration right that second. He barely had the energy to stand on his feet and breathe at the same time. A single question popped into his mind as he looked between Jocasta and Marceline, formed from his conversation with Ayla and Jocasta’s most recent show of power.

Jocasta… who are you really? The question was not uttered out loud though. He knew better. Yalen took a deep breath and tried his best to scan the region, reaching out several kilometers in every direction in a vain attempt to get a bead on the aberration’s location.

“Marceline is… right. The worst… has come to… to pass. The sand wyrm is a-aberration mad and… none of us will be safe now.” Yalen managed to gasp between mouthfuls of air.

TL;DR

- Yalen has a splash fight with Rita and some other kids
- He gets a hint that the refuge is kind of a crappy place
- Yalen and Ayla have their chat on the way to the aberration's location
- The froabasses attack and Yalen nearly dies trying to fight for his life
- In light of recent events he has a new opinion of Jocasta, but not necessarily a negative one

Code Vein (Closed)

---

Yesterday night, approx. 12 AM

---

It was midnight now. The party ended a few hours ago. Most of the Commune had gone to bed, and the Crow’s Nest was eerily quiet. Dallas was still lying awake in bed, which was uncommon for him given that he was the type to wake up almost as early as Erik. There was a simple reason for him to be up so late. It was because he knew what he was about to do and didn’t want to wake anyone if he started screaming in agony.

Dallas rolled off his pile of mattresses and opened the drawer underneath his little end table. There was only one thing inside of it which was the vestige he’d received during today’s mission. At least, he assumed it was a vestige. He’d never unwrapped the cloth and actually looked at it. He grabbed it and quietly slid the drawer closed. The voices were coming back again. They were too faint to make out anything coherent, but it was disturbing to have someone talk inside your head. Dallas honestly wanted to take the thing and throw it as far away as possible.

Dallas put the object on his bed and carefully unwrapped it. As expected, it was truly a vestige. The crystalline mass wasn’t nearly as smooth as it appeared to be. There were flat sides and jagged edges that had been concealed by the thickness of the cloth. It was like a mineral freshly dug out of the ground. It was a dark red color, and even though the lights were off it glowed brightly in his presence.

Vestiges just give you your old memories back. They don’t erase the person you are now. It should be fine as long as I wasn’t a serial killer or something. Dallas psyched himself up and moved his hand towards the crystal. There was no point hesitating. He laid his palm over the surface and waited for the pain.

Spikes shot out of the vestige explosively, impaling Dallas’s hand in several different places. He tightened his diaphragm and tried as hard as possible not to cry out in pain. It was like lightning was traveling straight through his blood vessels. Dallas grabbed his wrist with his other hand and braced himself. The images were already beginning to flood his brain, and he went into catatonic shock shortly after.

---

The operation was burnt. Hosmann never should have planned an excursion based on week old intelligence. This sector was not a green zone as they previously believed. The expedition had brought enough weapons and soldiers to fight maybe thirty or forty Lost in the worst case. In a domino effect of bad luck and poor decisions, the forces of Shadow Glen were forced to fight over a hundred of them. It was impossible to know how many people had survived during the mad retreat to the rally point, because an infernal destroyed most of their radios with an unknown energy attack. Humans and revenants were still filtering into the makeshift perimeter of tactical trucks and humvees.

Dallas was sitting on the hood of one of the transports. He was one of the few people to make it out without getting hurt. He unscrewed the cap of his canteen and poured the last of its contents straight down his throat. It was like swallowing liquid fire. The dirty moonshine tasted like rubbing alcohol mixed with sugar cubes. He coughed for several seconds and clipped the canteen back onto his belt.

Sergeant Magnus was approaching him now. With his hearing, Dallas could tell without looking. He still turned his head properly out of respect. The six foot five nordic giant was less a man and more a walking, talking slab of beef. Despite his chest being covered in lacerations, the sergeant was smiling from ear to ear.

Magnus slapped his hand on the side of the truck. “Dallas! Good to see you made it in one piece.” Dallas nodded and slid off the hood so he could speak to the sarge properly.

“Yeah, barely. I nearly bit the bullet dragging Garza out of that ambush. He wouldn’t stop crying all the way to the convoy. It makes me wonder why we keep taking humans outside like this.”

The sergeant sighed. “Now’s really not the time Dallas…”

“Why do you keep making excuses for bringing them with us? We shouldn’t be using our food supply as soldiers. They’re too weak to be of any use anyways.” Dallas spoke low enough that the humans in their midst wouldn’t overhear.

“I’d love to discuss the human condition with you Dallas, but I really need you to put your game face back on. Part of the horde has split off and is slowly advancing on our position. The convoy is moving out in five and I need you to drive this truck.”

Dallas shrugged. “Sure. Whatever. Does this mean we’re leaving Tiana’s squad behind?”

“No. I’ll take some revenants with me and head back into the city to bail them out. Last I heard before radio silence, they were retreating towards the secondary extract. There was a pack of infernals between them and us. Owen will direct the convoy home.” Sergeant Magnus clipped his respirator back on and donned his black ballistic helmet. “Let me borrow your weapon. I left my sword in the back of a tentacle earlier.” Dallas wordlessly tossed his fire axe at the wounded soldier. The latter caught it in midair and went to link up with his team. Dallas noticed the aggression lurking underneath his calm exterior. The sarge became an entirely different person when his people were in danger.

Dallas pulled open the door of the truck and scooted himself into the driver seat. As he did so, he noted the person napping in the passenger seat beside him. Garza had been bawling his eyes out while running from a dozen thralls less than an hour ago. Now he was sound asleep with a jacket over his head. The stone faced revenant shook his head and started the engine. Humans were incredible at times.

---

Dallas’s eyes shot open when he heard the sound of Erik’s voice booming in the distance. He raised his head off the mattress and looked around. Did he black out?

“REVENANTS! SIDHE! HUMANS! TO THE STRATEGY ROOM! EVERYONE! DON'T CARE HOW YOU GET THERE! WALK, FLY, ROLL, SKIP, CREEP IN, HOWEVER! JUST GET THERE!”

Fuck! I slept in! Dallas swiftly sprayed on some cologne he had sitting on the table and threw on his fireman jacket before bursting through the door. It took him less than a minute to reach the strategy room in a dead sprint.

When Dallas presented himself for roll call, his head was a mess. It wasn’t just the alcohol either. His head was uncomfortably full of new information. Aside from the visible memories, names and concepts began to return as well. The names of people he knew. The names of places. He was vaguely starting to remember some of the locations he’d been to. The name Shadow Glen meant something to him, but he couldn’t say what. It was still difficult to piece together anything specific. Perhaps his brain needed more time to process everything.

Dallas saw that not everyone had arrived yet, so he relaxed a bit and allowed his eyes to wander. The number of maps on the strategy table had apparently quadrupled. As a newcomer he didn’t know much about the Commune’s logistics. Was this a trade route of some kind? He studied it out of curiosity while waiting for the others.