Tackytaff

The Hourglass Order

---

Deserted I
_{Ersand'Enise / Tethered Refuge
Seen & Mentioned: Casii, Vieri, Kaspar, Zarina, Ayla, Yalen}

For the first week of his enrollment, Silas had made a point to avoid his literacy studies. The language course professor along with other teachers constantly preaching of 'supplemental learning' through reading had done their best, but he remained unconvinced. He wanted to learn magic, not waste time learning a skill he would only ever be middling with. It had all changed rather quickly when he received a package in the mail for the first time in his life.

"For you Rieger, from Mudville." Were all the words it came with. They'd been enough. The square envelope hadn't left his pocket since. Unopened, but already creased and folded from his hands retracing the invisible, indecipherable letters that made up his name.

So he returned to the library for the first time since his enrollment, for the first time as a student rather than fugitive, and studied. Papers had been specially prepared, the Avincian alphabet and basic phrases written out in metallic ink. With a magnet placed behind the page, the letters sparked with energy and became tangible to Silas' senses. From this he would memorize the shape before trying to hastily copy it himself. The remains of a half dozen attempts were scattered across the table. It was a frustrating process, the ink dried too quickly and the shapes never stayed in mind long enough. Worse still, he had no way of knowing if he was making any progress. He'd been gifted no with special ink to write with, and had to make do with a singular candle centered on the desk. Supposedly the ink should've activated under a gentle light or heat, but Silas had so far succeeded only in burning through two sheets.

He lifted a third to the flame, resting his head in his spare hand as he watched the energy engulf and consume his work. Just as it began to reach his fingers, he drew from the heat. The sparks traveled up his arm and into his blood until all that remained outside was a thin line of heat he knew to be smoke coming from the extinguished wick. Oblivious that the upper floors of the grand library, containing the academy's oldest and dustiest tomes might not have been the best place to practice arcane magic, he focused on the candle willing it to light

Casii/Vieri

Whatever Silas had planned to do next, it would be clearly interrupted by a rapping fist on the door to his dark room. ”Hey! Whadda’ doing in there? Pretty sure book burnin’ is against the rules. Came a loud voice came on the other side to match the pounding. It was the only warning he’d get before the pounding ceased and the door flung open.

Standing at the doorway was a white-haired Yasoi, dressed in a red tunic with brown patterned trousers that looked a size too big for her small frame. Her furrowed eyebrows indicated she was obviously annoyed, having to bear the smell of smoke for the past ten minutes. Although her expression, she thought, would be missed with someone who was blindfold. Annoyance lead to confusion as she considered the delinquent. ”Err… wait a minute. You ain’t able to see. Why are you in a library?”

The interruption startled Silas into knocking over the stubbornly-unlit candle as he rose with a start, heat creeping to his cheeks at being caught mid-distraction. He kept his face towards the ground, expecting an angry teacher on the other side.
"Sorry I was-" He didn't get to finish before the woman continued speaking, nearly pushing past him to get into the room. Her height was the only distinguishable feature to Silas' limited sight, but it along with her peculiar accent was enough to pique his curiosity.

"I can see." He folded his arms and looked to the desk of indistinguishable energies. "Mostly." He corrected, before sighing and looking at his guest again.
"I take it you're new too? Silas Rieger, resident Power-Gazer." He offered his hand in greeting.

Casii watched, arching an eyebrow in disbelief at his response. She looked intently at him, trying to read what his game was before shooting a glance to the nearby knocked over candle. ”Uh-huh.” She didn’t sound convinced as she leaned against the doorframe and considered his introduction. Crossing her arms, she let his offered hand hang in the air.

”Power..gazer?” She didn’t know that last word. From the context, it seemed like it was important relating to him. Is that what he calls being blind? ”Maybe I’m new. Doesn’t matter. I know well enough to not be messin’ ‘round with candles’n books. What are you doin’ here anyway? If you can see, that is.”

"Seeing probably wasn't the right word" He acquiesced and thought back to the way his vision was explained to him, first by Moriff, then Giarrone.

"My eyes don't sense light the way yours do, just energy. It makes reading pretty much impossible except-" He reached for the magnet and training papers from the table "Are you familiar with magnetic magic?"

Seeing definitely wasn’t the right word. He had some cloth around his eyes. He wasn’t seeing anything, Casii thought. Then he explained some magic about seeing energy and for a moment the yasoi thought about what energy looks like? Colors? Pictures? It didn’t make sense.

”Yeah. I know magnetic magic. I’m a Yasoi. We know magic.” This guy didn’t seem real. Reads in the dark, talks about seeing energy and now is starting on asking if she knew what magnetic magic was. To a Yasoi! She used her tongue to push the Jamb’ysp from her left cheek to her right cheek, procuring a small cup from her pocket to spit a darkened glomp of spit into. ”You bored enough to want to learn how to read without seein’ then? Or can you not actually see?” She asked but quickly decided she didn’t care to hear the answer. ”Show me.” She suddenly commanded, stepping forward and closing the door behind her.

"You're Yasoi?" He said, equal parts excitement and surprise. "Sorry but I've only met a few of your kind before, and facial features are lost to me" He waved a hand in front of his blindfold.

`
Casii leaned against the door in continued observation, quietly raising her cup and spitting in it once more. If he had to be told she was a Yasoi then he really couldn’t see. ”Okay so you can’t see.”

Silas shook his head “I can’t see light” He handed her the papers, and held the magnet beneath them. "There are flecks of iron in the ink." He explained. "You should be able to sense it, but that's how I see things, sensing the energies and putting a shape to them. It’s how I can see you. Your heartbeat, arteries, and even the electric patterns in your head." He smiled coyly at her. “This affliction isn’t common among your people?”

Casii opened her mouth to respond but she’d find herself interrupted by a rap on the door. Another Yanii was being drawn in from the smell of smoke, no doubt. The newcomer looked far too happy if that were the case and sure enough, the new Yanii cried out in delight at seeing her brother?

“There you are brother!” Vieri threw up their arms and then immediately pulled them back, wincing. They sidestepped into the room and pushed the door carefully shut with a heel, set down their satchel, “I am hoping I don’t get you kicked out for being so loud, but lucky we are up in the rafters, ey? Only the spiders to hear. I would almost think you were trying to hid.”

Cinnamon started to overpower the smells of old paper, and, was that… orange?

Vieri turned their smile to Casii, “I am Vieri, sister, you are a friend of Silas?” A tilt of the head, “You have a face that would be fun to paint. Nice colours. Cute nose.”

She was loud. At least she smelled nice. The only Yasoi in this cramped room made space by hopping her bum on top of the desk Silas was using, sitting on the edge and letting her feet kick idly. The newcomer came in fast, spattering off a lot of things prompting Casii to take in as she worked the Jamb’ysp in her mouth a little with her tongue. Amusing up until the nose comment. Folding her amusement into a glare, she considered if that was a slight against it. Probably but better to be diplomatic for now.

”Yer a spring climber, Yanii. Came to lecture your … brother about burning books?” She slurred with a mouthful, shooting Silas a scowl. She wasn’t going to let him live down the smoke thing quite yet. ”Yer too late then. I was already lecturin’.”

Casii flicked her head upwards before continuing, ignoring Vieri’s babble at her. ”You’n Power Burner here, related? Yer ain’t lookin’ too alike. That a Yanii thing?”

Vieri's arrival came as a whirlwind, assaulting Silas' heightened remaining senses. Loud and always sparkling with energy he nearly dropped his papers at their entrance, and scrambled to save what remained of his efforts as the Yasoi sat on them.

"If I'm hiding I'm doing a poor job." He complained, looking between the two intruders before resting his gaze on the Yasoi and replying dryly; "The resemblance is all in the eyes."

“And in our love of burning books, ey?”

His patience has worn thin first trying to explain the nature of his abilities to the Yasoi, and now with a second interruption.
"Vieri, this is the new Yasoi, too mysterious to share even her name; though I'm sure you'll manage."

“I do like them mysterious, but it’s another name I am after. I wonder, sister, could you help? This note came from a stupid bird,” they knelt down besides their satchel, rummaged, stood back up with a slip of parchment. “I can read our names, but not the last, I think it is Yasoi, no?”

Vieri held the note out to Casii. On it were three lines. Silas Rieger. Vieri Zimbasu. And…

Casii’s eyes narrowed as the pair before her exchanged before Vieri began to inquire about a name. She peered over and instantly recognized the horrid Yanii way of writing her name. Casii’fyret’alan. Silly Yaniis couldn’t even figure out how to read her name? Casii chuckled in her own amusement.

”Yea that’s Yasoi. That’s me. Casii.” She mused but soon realized someone had written her name on a paper with these two. ”Hey! Why you got my name like that?”

“Of course. If it was anyone other than Hugo, I might have thought it a coincidence, finding you here. I suppose he actually has a use for us, and you, now,” then, finding the humour: “Not bad, ey brother?”

“Or we’re already in trouble.” He peered at the scrap of paper, unable to see anything on it at all. ”Haven’t burned anything down yet have you?”

“Not yet. I suppose the Forked Tower awaits, no?”

Casii considered for a moment. ”I ain’t done nothin’ to be in trouble’n book burner just started so I reckon its somethin’ else. Suppose we should go see.”

Silas nodded in agreement and held open the door for his classmates and they funneled into the hallway.

---

It was Silas' first time outside of Ersand'Enise. The journey had been largely underwhelming; standing in Hugo's office one moment and the Refuge the next had a minimizing effect on the amount of distance they'd traveled. The heat served as an immediate reminder. Arcane energy permeating the air, paired with the ever shifting sands underfoot wreaked havoc on Silas's energy senses. The Refuge was a place of chaos, he'd decided, even before learning the details of the approaching army and sand wyrm.

There wasn't much time for questions or more than the briefest introductions before the new arrivals were put to work helping with the preparations. Lacking training of any level, Silas was grouped with the other children of the refuge; given menial chores and attending the 'classes' put on by his fellow students to help hone his minimal skills. It didn't take long to realize how woefully undermanned, under-powered, and unprepared they were. Whenever he wasn't working, Silas spent his first twenty-four hours at the refuge ascertaining the personalities of his classmates.

Kaspar

On the surface Kaspar was the exact sort of high-born Silas had worked so hard to avoid since arriving at Ersand’Enise: Somber, aloof, and generally removed from the world immediately around him. So of course it happened that the Helbanese noble was tasked with showing him the way to his room.

While they were still at the entrance of the hallway, before the uncomfortable silence even had time to set in, Silas was desperate to end it; “So, how did you manage to kill a sand wyrm?”

Kaspar was not overly familiar with Silas—though it was not unusual, given the noble’s social skills. Nevertheless, he’d run out of time to be awkward and uncomfortable around strangers. Though he would’ve been fine with silence, he would not reject an attempt at conversation.

The question did bring a stutter to his step, though, as red eyes shot toward the powergazer. He was silent for a moment, coaching most of the surprise out of his voice as he responded, “We… Haven’t, yet. We diverted it with noise and movement, and it’s not approach the Refuge yet, but… It’s still out there.” He watched his fellow student carefully, wondering how little information any of them had been given before Hugo sent them here.

"Its the same one?" Silas stopped mid-step in surprise, only to double his pace to catch up to the taller boy once he moved again. "Is there a reason it keeps coming back?"

Kaspar inhaled steadily at Silas’s response, and he tossed the information around in his mind, figuring out how best to lay it out. Deciding on a straightforward approach, he finally answered, “The first night, it was drawn in by prey. The next day, it consumed an aberration and was driven mad.”

Silas let a silence fall over them as they turned two corners. It wasn't as uncomfortable as he feared; only solemn. But that was likely his own pessimism. "What do you take our chances of killing it this time?"

Kaspar thought on it for a moment as the silence settled between them again. Finally, voice more confident than one might expect, he offered, ”We’re prepared this time. We didn’t know to expect it the first time, but now we have numbers, training, and a chance to strategize.”

"Our numbers consisting of; a handful of students, a dozen half-trained tethered, and maybe dumb luck?" Silas shook his head. "We're going to lose people, and Hugo didn't send so much as a Zeno, doesn't that bother you?"

Kaspar was silent for a few moments. With a soft voice he responded, “It does. We’re working our hardest to make sure we don’t lose any more, but… We already have. And you’re right. It’s very likely we’ll lose more. But the only way we can confront Hugo is by making it back.” The ending note was one of resolve—Kaspar had felt the terror of being near this beast, and he knew the Warden’s original plan. But Hugo wasn’t going to rescue them—so they might as well live long enough to make it his problem. “This is you."

They'd stopped at a door, to Silas indistinguishable from any of the others they'd passed. With a final nod to each-other the boys separated in slightly worse spirits than before.

Ayla

Ayla was nothing and everything a noble was meant to be. Like a princess from a story of old, the children congregated around her at any given opportunity, and were never turned away regardless of how busy the older girl was. She was open, kind, and ready with a smile despite their hapless circumstances. Silas half expected her to charm birds from the sky when she played her flute in a demonstration of sonic force magic. He stayed behind after her lesson, sticking to the walls until the rest of the room had emptied.

“Do you have a moment, Lady Arslan?”

Ayla smiled warmly as the boy approached her, not having a real moment to properly greet him since his arrival to the refúgio, “Si, it is a pleasure to be formally acquainted.” She moves her hands over Silas’ own, taking them in a warm gesture. “How may one be of help?”.

"Thanks" He said, pulling back his hand to fold his arms across his chest "It's about the Wyrm, I hear you were the one who came up with the plan last time."

Ayla nods with a smile, expanding upon it for her new friend, “Dança-Alsahra, or Desert-Dancer in Avincian, it is a Torragonese children's’ game where you dance and when the Wyrm comes, you got to stay still, or it eats you. This was the inspiration for my idea. Was there more you wanted to know?”

"What difference it makes now that it's eaten an aberration." He returned her smile sheepishly before continuing "I don't have any experience with them but would it change the wyrm’s instincts so much we couldn't use a similar trick?"

Ayla takes a moment to consider the words, trying to describe it for a boy. “In simple terms… have you seen how alcohol changes people? Some become happy drunks, others become sad, and some become very angry as if in a frenzy. The Wyrm has lost its senses and is currently in a frenzy.”, she shakes her head side-to-side. “The trick may work again, may not, but regardless, it will not give up its chase. Would only buy time. There isn’t a way to sober it up either that is known to me.”

Silas nodded along, doing his best to conceal how helpless he felt about the situation; two steps behind everyone else with no way to keep up or even be of much use with his meager Gift. "You don't find it strange that Hugo only sent us as reinforcements then?"

“Hugo has sent enough”, Ayla takes hold of Silas’ hands again, holding them up. “Imagine the Wyrm is a cart. You are not strong enough to push it along yourself.”, she moves her hands into his, squeezing upon them. “But by working together? We can push that thing along. Here in the Refúgio, we have a lot of hands. We need people who can help direct and teach those hands what to do. Now you understand?” She offers him a wide smile, “Now these hands are many!”, she releases the hands and claps them together.

Silas stared at the shape of his hands after she dropped them. He appreciated the spirit of her words, but when it came down to it, they were children teaching children to fight a monster few trained warriors would survive in a non-crazed state. "Thank you, Ayla. I hope to lighten the load however I can." His smile widened enough to show teeth as he forced a more positive tone; "And when it's dead we'll turn the damn thing into a courtyard statue in honour of your quick thinking."

Ayla tilts her head to the side with the last comment, offering a light smile. “We should dedicate it to all who took part and the lives of those we have lost. Dedicate it to a bright future, a sign of the challenges that had to be overcome.”, she seems to instinctively look towards the direction of the courtyard with the comment. “It is easy to slip into darker thoughts, as my Da used to say, being brave is about standing up when you have to.”

Silas thought it better to not to bring up that many of their allies couldn't stand. It wasn't what she had meant after all, though the vulnerability of the refuge's habitants still had him questioning their chances. But that was his own cynicism; it was better to put faith in those who had already dealt with the wyrm before. "You've got everyone here united and doing everything they can." He finally said, trying to think of a single positive thing to say about their hopeless circumstance. "I'm sure he'd be proud."

“You do like to flatter, Mister…”, she notices that the boy hasn’t shared his own name with her, and leaves an adequate prompt for him to provide it, encouraging it. “Reframing problems into solutions is always helpful. If they focus on what the problem is, they grow withdrawn, hide away, become demotivated. If we tell people what we can do, they become motivated, and active. The latter has a lot more success.”

"Rieger" He said with some hesitancy. It still felt strange coming from his mouth, his previous life had needed only one name. He kept his face towards the courtyard but kept close sense of Ayla's reaction, prepared to be disillusioned of her seemingly genuine kindness when she failed to recognize his name.
"I won't keep you any longer, but thanks for speaking with me."

Ayla shakes her head, as she directs the boy back towards her. “We are amiss. Let’s start again.”, she instinctively moves her hands down to pat them upon her clothes before she brings them back up again, “Hello, my name is Ayla Arslan, my friends can call me Ayla. Pleased to meet you. To whom do we speak?”, she takes Silas’s hand to shake upon it, seeming intent on wanting to have introductions in order before they depart.

Silas grinned at her, quickly disarmed of his fears by her continued enthusiasm. "Silas Rieger," He took her hand "I think I'm to be in your apprentice group, with Zeno Zemana? We'll have a lot to talk about." His head tilted to one side when their hands parted again, and his smile became more pursed. "After the wyrm obviously."

Zarina

The Vangrish girl was to be avoided. Silas had decided that early, when he’d heard her speak during the debrief. She was confidence and shadows, quick wit with an underlying earnesty that he wasn’t sure what to make of. Going with his instincts to never trust a merchant, he’d purposefully awoken early to complete his morning task of tending to the prisoners in the Red Tower alone rather than in her company as originally planned.

It was upon his return to the entrance that he became overwhelmed by the smell of coffee; following it lead him to Zarina, standing by a window steaming mug in one hand, a book in the other. He considered leaving, but even as the thought crossed his mind he knew it was too late, and that his presence had been noticed.

“Goodmorning,” He said, not quite comfortable enough to enter the room. “Did I miss breakfast?” He’d risen and left before the sun had risen, and hadn’t expected anyone else up for another hour at least.

It was hard to find a good book around the refuge- the best one could find was a bestiary or detailed notes in the rangers’ quarters. What Zarina had in her hand was Vice-Warden Adela’s records. A lot of payroll management and details involving the logistics of supplying the Refuge. Her mind kept busy, but was eventually distracted by a set of footsteps passing under the window she had been leaning against to take in some of the Torragonese air.

”Silas, was it?” she inquired with her usual Virangish accent. The book was snapped shut and Zarina conferred a half-lidded but hawkish gaze toward the young teen, ”If you’re hungry, I have unfinished sausages and churros-” she turns her body to be perpendicular to the window- essentially inviting him in, ”we had a job this morning, yeah? Prisoner duty? Though I guess there’s no hurry.”

When she didn't immediately snap at him, Silas relaxed enough to enter the room, but did little more than eye her plate of food. "Just finished taking care of them actually-" His brow furrowed behind the blindfold "I guess there wasn't any alternative to keeping them down there?" One didn't need to be particularly astute to know something more had happened prior to his arrival. Something the others in the group had managed to keep tight lipped about, and if Silas was going to take part in any more criminal activity he'd at least like to know why.

The plate of now cold food was on a small desk a meter away from her recently straightened bed. Zarina kept herself by the windowsill as she watched the blindfolded youth absorb his surroundings, ”Maybe there was. Could’ve killed them. Could’ve just let them all leave. Safe. Risky.” she loosely held her mug with a couple of her fingers, letting it dangle under her hand would make the more neurotic of people a tad nervous, ”This was the safest option for everyone. Although they’re still dangerous, Silas.”

The Virangish took a sip from her still warm coffee and made her way to the large mirror opposite of her temporary bed. She focused on her eyes and what little makeup she had left, ”There’s a reason why they send two of us down there. Wait for me next time, yeah?” her voice had remained modulated the whole time, like nothing could quite frustrate her this morning. Or maybe she was just happy to not have to work, ”Are you gonna eat that?” she turned to face her guest, her book posed on the adjacent drawer and her idle hand over her hip.

Silas watched the teitering mug, its slow arc of kinetic energy as heat continued to radiate off. "Any more dangerous than a crazed wyrm?" Zarina quickly replied to the question, ”Think more the danger they pose plus the Wyrm, plus the not-so-jolly duke.” she then sipped from her mug again.

He reached for the plate of food and took one of the cooled sausaged from it before passing it off to Zarina."I'm not suggesting to let them go- but at the least we could use some more adults trained in the gift when the time comes?"

”Manpower’s good, sure.” she nodded but gestured in dismissal when offered the meat. There was a reason it was left cold, ”But these guys sent us to die to eliminate the aberration. They’re not exactly the sort I’d invite to the Carnival with the family.” she paused and narrowed her eyes toward where Silas’ own would be, ”Do you see me, by the way? With hearing or maybe the bandana’s see-through? Met a guy once who saw with sound …”

"Something like that." He bit into the sausage and chewed slowly, reluctant to go through the same explanation he felt he'd given a hundred times. But she'd been more forthcoming than expected, and he was beginning to feel guilty for avoiding her. "I sense energy. Your shape, movements I can see. But details; faces, writing..." He shrugged, motioning his head towards the space she'd placed her book. "Well, some day. Or so I'm told."

Zarina nodded, looking content with the answer given to her, ”Cool.” she responded as if she were a child that had just seen a big lizard for the first time, ”So you can’t quite tell if I’m smiling or frowning. But I guess you can see how I move and hear my voice.” she gestured to the plate, ”Try the churro, especially with the cream.”

The sausage finished, Silas wiped the oils from his fingers on the hem of his sleeve. "I'm sorry your sister had to leave, she seemed-" There was a pointent silence while Silas desperately searched for a neutral word to describe the witch he'd met for mere moments. "Interesting."

The Virangish went from relatively tame and content with her guest to tense and stiff rather quickly at the mention of her sister. Silas could probably hear and even feel it– her heart rate increased a little and her body heat went up a couple of increments. She inhaled loudly ”Yeah. Well. She’s always had her way of doing things.” she kept a tone in an attempt to hide how brittle her voice had gotten. A long sigh followed shortly after to vent that initial inhale, ”You’ll see her again, I’m sure. She likes unique cases like you. That is if we survive.”

It was oddly reassuring to hear someone else give voice to the thought that they may not live through the wyrm attack. While he appreciated the optimism of others, his own mind was full of doubts and questions. He considered sharing them with the Vangrish girl, but the mere mention of her sister seemed to have upset her enough already. It was always a careful balance, being unable to see what he should, while what was meant to be hidden lay clearly before him. Silas averted his gaze to the window and rising sun.

"I'd better get to doing something productive to increase our odds." He offered a smile as he moved to leave the room. "Thanks for breakfast, and the talk."

Zarina nodded, but raised her hand to get Silas to stop for a moment, ”Patience, fireball.” she scurried over to her bag she had left by her bed and after a bit of rummaging, she’d take out a gourd filled with still fresh water. The young lad eager to get things done was offered the container, ”The heat can even make the toughest guys faint. Take a good swig every hour or so, yeah?” but before he could take it, she pulled it away for a brief moment, ”It comes back to my room in the evening, alright?”

Yalen

In Yalen, Silas saw what his life may have looked like. His mother had been pressured to give him to the church both when he was born and again when his eyes began to deteriorate. The clergy boy seemed happy enough with his lot; devout and honest to the point he seemed truly incapable of any sort of subterfuge. A relief in comparison to some of the others in their group. It was still Silas’ first night at the refuge when Yalen volunteered to help clean up after the children’s dinner when the former had drawn the short straw for the chore.

”Thank you” Silas said as he started to collect plates. ”But despite whatever Cassi told you I can see what I’m doing.”

Yalen gave Silas a sunny smile and continued to scrub the table’s surface with a moist cloth.

Since you’re here in this dangerous place, I assumed you could take care of yourself. I wasn’t trying to undermine your autonomy.”

"I didn't-" Silas stopped himself short before his foot got permanently stuck in his mouth. Of course he'd be so careless speaking to the boy fighting his own body to stay upright each day. But that was another truth he likely wasn't meant to see, so after muttering a second thanks he moved to the other side of the dinning hall to continue the chore in silence.

tl;dr

Silas meets people.

O R I F L A M M E

Lyen'Ivhere'Zulc

---

Defense Of Relouse IV
_{In the Witch Wood - St. DeFrois Rock
Seen & Mentioned: Talit'yrash'osmax, Kol; Death's Hand, Vali Twice-Born}

Lyen's viens burned as she ran. The mana curse in her blood practically making her body hum with energy of the gift. And it was only a fraction of the Lady Talit's power that was shared between them. She looked back at the younger Yasoi, following in her awkward, yet efficient, fashion once more before leaving the Witch Woods.

Use of the gift and the Æresvaktr's blood led them towards the city walls. The battlefield between the city and woods was chaos, but it all seemed to melt away from Lyen's vision; except the great towering stone of St. Defrois Rock: The only structure in the area that would at conceal such a beast as Death's Hand. Only thought of vengeance and absolution for her earlier failure filled Lyen's mind as she made for he target, beginning to draw from the stone, weakening it in hope of crushing whoever stood on the other side

For the second time in the night she found two Eskandr where she'd only expected one. Even before he loosed his arrow she screamed in a mixture of pain and frustration as his arrow sunk into her left shoulder: Where did they keep coming from? She pressed on-wards faster, focusing her attacks on the archer as pieces of stone continued to rain upon him. Too caught up in anger she failed to notice Kol's trajectory and was saved only by Talit's quick reaction and strong push of force magic.

Almost stumbling, Lyen caught herself by grabbing onto each of the large Eskandr's arms while he was staggered and attempted to imbue him with curses. But there was no purchase, his Gift brushed hers aside as thought she were still a child novice.

He taunted her in words she didn't fully understand or care to listen too. She only gripped tighter as he attempted to shake her off. Her focus soon paid off; a gap in his resistance. She drew from her own mana and that of her 5th wheel ally, and the fire trapped in her veins seeped into his; turning the Æresvaktr's own essence against him. He could hold it off for now; but it would build and eventually the blood would begin to corrode his veins. "Just die" she murmured.

The gods heard her arrogance, and delivered their punishment quickly and harshly through her enemy's fist. A half scream left her lips as she felt her organs realign themselves into the wrong places under the force. Her back slammed the ground hard, where the remaining momentum of the carried her further still. Reflexively, Lyen began to draw. There was no shortage of human bodies north of the city, but even as she began to convert the material her attacker approached to finish her off. She clumsily tried to crawl backwards on one arm, the other still clutching the impacted area of her stomach.

Her call for Talit came out as little more than a desperate gargled cry as blood flooded her throat. None the less, the Baroness arrived, a fury of magic and metal pushing the Æresvaktr away and giving Lyen space and time to heal and escape.

"I smell you, southern rat" Murmured in Yasoi as she turned to face the footsteps taking the same path around the stone. The smaller Eskandr had followed, having freed himself from Talit. She stomped her foot and the ground in-front of her gave way, sinking under the archer's feet as he perused, staggering as he loosed an arrow. Lyen's confidence grew, this was how it was meant to go. In two strides she walked to him and laid her hands to begin casting an internal essence spell. He countered before her gift could take hold, using force to repel her backwards weakly. But Lyen for the first time in the night had found that singular focus craved by all Yasoi, and was not about to let her prey slip away so easily. She showered him again with stones before he could think of drawing another arrow.

When she was was on him again Vali was bloodied and haggard, swinging with his sword so blindly she barely had to move of its way. "You shouldn't have shot me." She said in Drugunzean and placed a hand on his blood soaked face. Her Gift began to sink into him, adjusting his internal essence until she could feel him grow weary am limp. She hadn't finished before the first horn sounded. It was too early, and she was too close to victory- Then a second sounded, shorter than the first and immediately followed by a third. The call for retreat was unmistakable. Lyen cursed in Yasoi before leaning in close to the Eskandr.

"Stay away, Little Eskandr; next time I won't be so generous." She hissed by his ear in barely audible Drugenzean before letting him crumple to the ground.

The hole's from her drawing had created a easily navigable path to the summit of DeFrois' rock where the Baroness of Loriindton awaited her.

"Worry about miking it yourself, Talit'Yrash" Lyen taunted the one-legged Yasoi with a wink and gleeful smile - once again brimming with confidence after her decided victory. She leapt from the stone, mimicking the younger woman's own method of casting crude metal chains to pull her the remainder of the way to the top of the city walls.

summary

- The Yasoi heal from previous round, Lyen gives a curse to herself and Talit
- L&T Pursue Kol, and find him with Vali at DeFrois Rock
- They fight, until the horns blow, then leap over the city wall.

O R I F L A M M E

Lyen'Ivhere'Zulc

---

Defense Of Relouse III
_{In the Witch Wood
Seen & Mentioned: Otios'yyia'thala, Talit'yrash'osmax, Kol Death's Hand, and Horik the Gold}

Even as she neared the treeline of the Witch Wood Lyen could hear the battle and destruction raging to the south: The city proper was being attacked. There was little point in fretting over her chosen path; all that was left was to see it through. The heartbeat of the marked Yasoi she sought had long since stopped, but she could still use the remainder of her spell to find his body. She could ensure he would be the last at least.

Her horse reared unexpectedly, knocking Lyen from her mount. She cursed in her native tongue as she righted her self to view the source of the beast's fear: Eskandr were emerging from the forest. It was easy enough to differentiate the southerners with their ranger gear in comparison to the cumbersome armor donned by the Perrench.

The horse squealed and screamed as Lyen began to draw. "Exiran keep you" was all she said in way of prayer and apology as it crumpled to the ground in silence, just as the enemy forces came upon her, a dozen screaming savages seeking her blood. The remaining Yasoi had taken their toll on them she noted; there were too few bleeding from too many places. Axes raised around her and a single arrow was loosed before Lyen unleashed her magic. A torrent a blood fell upon her enemies. Warm and sticky in comparison to rain soaking everything else in their surroundings, the Eskandr quieted for a moment in confusion before the caustic properties reached the surface of their skin and the screaming began again; the agonizing cries of burning men. Lyen left them as she continued her journey on foot.

She found the body with little effort, a pale figure sinking into the mud. He'd been trying to escape the forest she surmised. Rain had washed most of the blood, but at least four stab wounds were clearly visible in chest.

A shock of gold, darting between the trees impossibly fast. Lyen's heart leapt to her throat. No ordinary soldier. She raised her hands to her mouth and let out a low whistle, trilling upwards on the last note: a common signal among Yasoi hunters. If there were allies nearby the would come. She just needed to survive. Her hands still covered her mouth as a wave of force energy brushed against her face. Lyen ducked just in time for a long dagger to embed itself into the tree behind her, inches from where her head had been.

Survive. She reminded herself, and focused on slowing her opponent. Jagged stones appeared under his feet, forcing the mage to slow and adjust his trajectory.

"You, pointy-ear, why are you fight for Parrence?"

He spoke Parrench poorly, barely understandable to Lyen's untrained ear. She could feel the energy of her surrounding being drawn from. He was trying to distract her. She tapped into her essence magic again misting the flooding creeks and streams of the forest in effort to reduce visibility.

"Why are you in Parrence at all?" She replied in less broken, but equally accented Perrech. "Run out of goats to fuck?" Her retort was punctuated by a bolt of lightening, instantly followed by the roar of thunder that shook the ground.

Visions of the man cooked inside his own armor, and the remains of Cap Redame's forces flooded Lyen's mind, and she feared the thunder-mage that had wrought such devistation had already arrived in the Witch Wood. Her fears were unfounded of course. The lightning was targeting the Æresvaktr and only a Yasoi could create such a spell and remain hidden in the trees. What served as her relief only enraged the southerner further. A blast of force energy emanated from him, enough to knock the wind from Lyen's lungs though she managed keep herself upright, bracing herself with the undergrowth.

"Hah! Goat jokes. If I didn't know any gooder, I think you were Parrench and not Yasoi!"
Lyen didn't respond further. His distractions were working despite her efforts; he a trained warrior practiced in drawing and casting for combat while she was only able to react. Lyen climbed her tree, binding footholds to speed her assent even as her pursuer followed. Enough. Half the tree dissolved even as the blond Eskandr began to climb, instead a dozen impossibly thin branches jutted outwards, impaling the figure. Or they did in Lyen's vision, for a moment, before he shimmered and moved again, revealing himself to have been barely grazed by the attack.

An illusion. Lyen cursed herself for not realizing it sooner. A wasted attack, a wasted opportunity. By the time she corrected her own internal essence, the Eskandr was fleeing. Strong as he was, he knew he was overwhelmed. Panic and desperation not to waste another opportunity lead Lyen to leap from her perch, karambit in hand.

Another miscalculation and misstep. No sooner did she land in the softening earth than she was caught between two Eskandr. The blonde she'd been in combat and a hulking beast of too large for a human in full plate. They both moved to attack her in unison. There was little hope, but she choose left - avoiding the brunt of the new-comers attack. Instead an axe finds her chest, splitting skin and flesh before cracking through bone. Without the time to scream, Lyen took a final gasp of air before falling and drawing herself underneath the foliage, water, and mud making up the terrain.

The fighting continued above without her. It took all of her effort to keep from crying out. Blood was splashing around her, her heart was beating to fast, and there was no air for to breathe. She willed the panic away and grasped the weapon in her chest, preparing to remove it when it disintegrated in her hands. Barely a second later, a warm burning replaced the searing pain. She was being binded by another. More help had arrived. She surfaced again, drawing herself for anything to help accelerate the binding, keeping her wound from being fatal. Instead she found the armored human, prone on the forest floor. Still blinking mud from her eyes and coughing for air, Lyen raised her karambit again.

"Enough!" A sudden surge of energy comes off the man as he stands, repelling Lyen to her feet beside him before her weapon had chance to find purchase. He moved away from her to aid his comrade, but when Lyen tried to follow, her legs gave out under her. She had lost too much blood, and her recovery was far from done. Her weapon fell from her hand as she fought unconsciousness to watch the Yasoi and Eskandr fight through the hail and rain. Her savior was not other than the Baroness of Loriindton, outpacing and outclassing them all with one leg. There wasn't even time for Lyen to find the humor in it before an explosion turned her world white.

summary

- Lyen finds the dead Yasoi just in time for Horik to get the jump on her
- She signals for other Yasoi in the area for help while they have a bout
- Otios arrives and they begin to corner the Æresvaktr
- Kol shows up, completely turning the tides and Lyen nearly dies
- Lady Talit to the rescue
- Horik dies at the hand of Otios, Kol manages to escape, Lyen passes out. The Yasoi will need to heal before planning their next action

The Hourglass Order

-

The Hourglass Order

for reviewwww

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S I L A S R I E G E R

"Closed minds are always the smallest."

15 | Male | Eskandr/Unknown | Commoner | 6.22

P E R S O N A L I T Y

❖ [Mischievous]
❖ [Compassionate]
❖ [Garrulous]
❖ [Optimistic]
❖ [Juvenile]

Barely a teenager, it comes as no surprise that many of Silas' more childish characteristics still linger. His lack of proper upbringing is evident upon meeting, but what he lacks in manners he makes up for in joviality and witt. On the surface this act may come across as flippant and aloof, but he possesses and earnest and loyal heart for those few he truly holds dear. It is years of isolation the knowing only the self-serving culture of vagrants that makes him slow to trust. He abhors violence and is squeamish to the point he'd likely faint at the mere sight of his own blood, if he was actually capable of seeing it.

C H A R A C T E R A P P E A R A N C E

Silas' eyes often generate the most stares and attention, the white-less and almost in-human tissue that remains in his sockets has made the occasional child scream, so he most often keeps them covered with a simple head-wrap. The rest of his features lack the same uniqueness. He is short, even for his age, barely scarping past five feet and has still has yet to shake the gaunt frame of a child from the slums. Hollow cheeks and dark circles under his sockets make his face much less child-like than expected, but his dark hair is thick and healthy, reaching nearly to his shoulders. Finally, the visible parts of his face include a straight nose a touch to long to be handsome, and a mouth too wide to look attractive in any position other than a smile.

L A N G U A G E S

Avincian. No writing/reading abilities.

T H E G I F T

_{6.22 | Redblood | Icevien | Powergazer}

While of middling capacity for a student of Ersand'Enise, Silas' talent shows through the form of his speed and methods. His drawing time is near instant, especially if he is facing the target to be drawn from - the strange tissue that takes the place of his eyes absorbing energy as readily as they sense it.

While most kinetic users only use active forces to draw, Silas's power-gazing abilities allow him to visualize static and potential energies as-well. It is after studying these elements more closely that Silas has developed his own form of movement augmentation based around friction. Be it by drawing from or casting to amplify the static and kinetic friction of surfaces Silas can make them impossibly slick or completely immovable respectively.

His practice in arcane magics had produced much less excitement. Drawing heat comes naturally with his icevien mana, but so far he has had great difficulty casting it as outward heat or even light. His one particular arcane skill is focused on drawing, and was discovered by accident during a time in hiding; drawing all of his own body's heat Silas can approximate death, appearing corpse-like with barely heartbeat for a few hours. He is currently oblivious to how dangerous this actually is, but avoids it purely for fear of the splitting headache that comes as part of its extensive recovery period. Illusion magic or altering his appearance through the use of light is the skill he most desires to learn.

B A C K G R O U N D

The identity of Silas' father may forever remain a mystery but his mother's story is one he knows well. Aline Rieger, an Eskandr slave, found herself unexpectedly free after her master died of typhus shortly after arriving in Ersand'Enise. Naive and vulnerable, it took little time for the city to take advantage of her. Madame Copin became her employer, at a brothel near the docks in Mudville of so little repute it didn't even have a proper name. Her pay was barely more than the room and board her employer charged her each month, and less once Silas was born; ensuring her eternal debt to the woman. Destitute as Silas' beginnings may have been, they were a happy time in memory for a child who was decently fed and well loved by an communal family in the brothel. At least until his eyes began to rot out of his head.

Or so was the deduction of the Madame, after taking one look at the boy's shrinking, dark eyes. Fearing a new disease that might deter customers, Silas was suddenly ripped from communal life to quarantine in a closet-sized room with a blanket and pillow. He was kept there for the first season of his 7th year, nightly kicking at the door and screaming for help as his entire world grew dark. Only his mother ever came, in the early hours of morning while the rest of the house was quiet. She would wrap him in her arms and tie cool, sweet-smelling bandages around his eyes as she told him about the gods, her homeland, and the life he had left outside.

When he remained healthy and the deterioration of his eyes had ceased; leaving only soft black tissue in its place, did the Madame send for a healer. No academy mage or priest came, but Moriff - a man middling renown in Ersand'Enise's underworld. He was known to take take jobs for less conventional pay than coin, and when he'd heard a description of the boy's condition had come to see it himself. Oblivious to the man's reputation, Silas was in awe as he was told not only would he see again, but use the gift as-well. The man left, with instructions on how to find him if Silas ever wanted further instruction.

It wasn't until his tenth year that Moriff's words came true. What Silas saw could never be called true sight, but it was more than the darkness that came before and he was grateful. Aline was loathe to let her son leave her to follow a swindler, but she had little power to stop him, and they were always desperate for coin.

The work for Moriff had very little to do with the gift at all. The man did help Silas learn to navigate his strange new vision and how to draw from the energies he saw, but mostly employed the boy as an urchin. First he used him as one of his many child beggars, hoping travelers would pity a blind boy. But it quickly became apparent that Silas had much more useful talents. He could make himself vanish at a moments notice, scale walls with ease, and could pockets off the most scrupulous merchants. It didn't take long for his employment to become that of a full time larcenist.

Silas reveled in that time, the pittance he earned as more money than he knew what to do with. He also gained an entire new family; one that didn't care about his ruined eyes, even relished them. His mother was never as excited about his new life as he liked, but she couldn't complain either; he'd grown to old to remain at the brothel as a child and what Moriff lacked in morality he made up for by keeping her son in close proximity and relative safety from the streets.

With the help of Silas and the other children in him employ Moriff eventually grew to become one of the larger forces within the underworld, and began the plan for bigger moves. Silas was sent to steal a crate off a merchant ship in the docks. It was too heavy to be carried out without the help of force magic, and it didn't take long for curiosity to win out over good sense, and Silas opened the package for a look. Inside were dozens of riles, pistols, grenades, and ammunition. He remembered Moriff's words about coming war and arming themselves. Fear of violence for his make-shift family made him drop the crate into the water of the docks, fear of Moriff made him run before the man could know what had happened. With nowhere to go and in desperate need of hiding Silas hid in one of the only place Moriff couldn't reach, a place he even feared. The Academy.

There was plenty of extra room for him there, between forgotten passages, dusty attics, and gaps between the walls he was able to move around most of the campus without being seen. Food was so abundant the little he took at night were never missed. Most importantly, Silas was able to do what he'd imagined doing for half his life, study his gift.

It was Giacomo Giarrone that found him. An inevitability to the point that Silas remains un-sure if his time spend undetected in the walls wasn't elaborate joke by the Arch-Zeno on the rest of his colleagues. If it was the case, the effect was dramatic. He may not have exactly seen their faces, shock was clear as the small filthy child recounted every lesson he had eavesdropped and display his gift. Whether it was pity, amusement, or genuine excitement about his skills, Silas left the meeting a Zenith's Scholar of Ersand'Enise's Academy of Thaumaturgy.

M O T I V A T I O N

Silas will one day become a great and powerful mage. Once he gains enough influence and wealth he will return to his not-mother and take them both somewhere far north where they could begin a new life free from debtors and prejudice.

I N V E N T O R Y

He has only what he brought with him during his escape; a shirt and trousers. Not that he had many possessions to begin with. His wardrobe has been supplemented with used clothing left by former students. A small collection of valuables from the wealthier students have made their way to his possession, only Dami knows how.

S T R E N G T H S & S K I L L S

❖ Powergazer
❖ Slight of hand
❖ Stealth/Thievery
❖ Ersand'Enise City Expert
❖ Quick

W E A K N E S S E S & F L A W S

❖ Pacifist-nature
❖ "Blind"
❖ Illiterate
❖ Uneducated/trained
❖ Underworld fugitive

M I S C E L L A N E O U S

BB Colour code = 7B68EE

O R I F L A M M E

Lyen'Ivhere'Zulc

---

Defense Of Relouse II

Lyen's work made little visible difference to the beach. Especially in comparison to the variable forest the small swamp witch had created. A close inspection might reveal the tops the jagged stone barely making themselves visible as the waves rolled back from the shore: But high tide would hide them better when the enemies landed. Let them wade through the high waters; at the mercy of thunder-mages before reaching the barely covered sand traps placed along the path inland. Her hands were covered in sand and clothes crusted with salt spray by the time she was done. It was growing late but she'd have time to at least change before the battle began. She was stopped on her way back to the camps by another Yasoi, a man a least a decade her junior tried re-directing her towards the Witch Wood.

"We're to meet Talit at the tree line." He finished his rehearsed message and turned before she could respond, he was so certain she would follow.

"I was assigned to a human Captain this morning and received no such orders." Lyen had no desire to hide in the woods while the first battle of Perrence waged barely a mile away. The main force of Eskand would be arriving on the beach and she would be there to witness it.

"As you say I suppose" Was all he said with barely a shrug, but this time Lyen took hold of him before he moved away.

"Just one thing" Oblivious, or simply uncaring about surrounding watchers, Lyen hiked her skirts past her calf, removing the blade strapped there. Unsheathed, it was bight polished silver, barely more than a flash light as she dragged it, without hesitation, across the back of her own forearm. The font of blood made its way down to her finger tips, where did not drip to the ground but instead flowed back upwards, twisting between each finger until a coin-sized pool rested in her palm. The Yasoi man, apparently familiar enough with the process, rolled his sleeve to expose his shoulder, where Lyen finally allowed the blood to fall. Most disappeared into the skin, until only a small raised freckle remained. In her own body, Lyen reached out and felt the man's heartbeat, just barely out of rhythm with her own, and loud at this proximity, but it was a distraction she was accustomed to tuning out.

"Ilbin ist Oirase triec" With a tight smile, he nodded in thanks for her blessing and they finally parted ways.

---

It wasn't clear just how controlled and organized the chaos in the camps had been until true disorder and panic erupted. Lyen had only just finished changing when the shouting and crowd of people drew her out of the tent. There was a stretcher, still mounted knights, and far too many pushing hands to see much else. Above it all a splitting howl of agony.

"A binder! Someone fetch a binder!" Lyen's heart sank. The role of medic had been the one she'd most carefully avoided up to this point. She'd already spent the better part of two decades tending to the wounds of humans, and had learned as much as she cared to about the subject. But when she saw hands pulling off pieces of armor still fused to skin of the awake and screaming man she stepped forward.

"Stop! You're making it worse, step away and let me bind him." She dropped two small vials from the pouch of her hip and stepped on them. Using the small wisp of essence they produced she placed a hand on each side of the screaming man's head. Almost instantly his eyes closed and he stilled to silence. It was finally quiet enough for the others surrounding them to hear what she was saying.

"He needs water and space. You two, take him into my tent. Someone tell me what happened." The inside space of her quarters was tight with Lyen, her patient, and his squire kneeling beside her, keeping the basin water clean and full while retelling the events of Cap Redame to the best of his ability.

Lyen listened as she diligently dissolved the plate attached to burnt skin, which she did her best to repair. It was tedious work, gruesome and slow but resulting in much of the man's own flesh being saved. One of the few less fortunate areas was his left torso: The heat there had been enough to melt through the fat and muscle to expose the beginning of his rib cage. She had only just finished grafting the area from some of her preserved remains when a feeling intense dread hit her so suddenly Lyen froze in the midst of her labours.

"Something's wrong-" Dread quickly melted to panic as the realization for the feeling finally dawned. It was the second heartbeat - the connection to the Yasoi in the woods. He was dying. The impossibility of it stunned Lyen for longer still. It should have been impossible, there weren't nearly enough forces north to face a contingent of Yasoi in the trees.

She stood, abruptly ending her work. When the squire began asking questions and demanded she remain she brushed his concerns aside. "He'll live." She said. Badly scared with and with extensive damage to the nerves, but he would survive well enough without any more intervention from her. The second heartbeat she could hear continued to skip and fade.

"Zulc!" Her Captain from the morning had suddenly appeared and was blocking her path. He'd allowed himself in her tent, leaving barely enough room for the three conscious occupants to stand. At least someone had reminded him of her name this time. "You're needed on the beach-head." He took no notice of the squire, patient, or blood staining everything including Lyen herself.

"I'm needed in the Witch Wood." She countered, pushing him out of the crowded space with her. If the Yasoi were overwhelmed, had they failed to even get warning out? She could imagine their bodies littering the forest floor, only to be trampled by a Eskandr vanguard. They'd already been wrong once about Cap Redame. The stories of mistakes made at the city of Vitroux rang in her ears louder than the captain's commands.

"Orders are for the second battalion to make for the beach. Its too late for reassignments now. Beach-head Yosai. Now." Lyen glared after him until he turned out of view, when she poked her head back into her tent.

"You rode back here on a horse?" The squire nodded. "I'll need to borrow it."

Within five minutes she was riding north of the camp, towards the Witch Wood, and getting her first real view of war.

summary

- Traps set up on beach include rocks to hinder boats trying to come ashore and sand traps for those that make it to the beach to fall into.
- Lyen helps save one of the Knights almost killed in Cap Redame
- Worried the Yasoi are overwhelmed at the Witch Wood Lyen disobeys orders to go to the beachhead and instead rides for the forest.

O R I F L A M M E

Lyen'Ivhere'Zulc

---

Defense Of Relouse I

It really was a beautiful place to start a war. From Lyen's place on the walls of the city proper she could see across the far empty plains stretching west only to suddenly stop at the cliffs of Relouse, where the land made a sudden drop into the sea. The morning mist was clearing and far on the eastern shore she could see the final remaining friendly ships making their arrival. It was a magnificent view, a paradise only beginning to be transformed into a battlefield with fortifications being placed at the city's base and the fabric signaling the tents of the army encampment barely visible from her current line of sight.

"Yasoi!" The Captain she'd been assigned to that morning had re-appeared and shouted for her attention while still on the approach. His manner was arrogant and name such a jumble of Parrench syllables she'd opted put as much effort into learning it as he had her own. It had done little to aid their extremely short but already strained relationship.

"Captain."

"Finished here?"

Her assigned task was to help with minor repairs of the city walls: Small cracks and holes acceptable during peace times were to sealed and reinforced in effort to breaching as difficult and time consuming as possible for the expected invaders. Lyen rested her hands on ramparts and let the final remains of her drawn magic leech downwards to fill any of the remaining weaknesses."The south-side wall at least. Haven't run into the others."

The Captain gave a single nod of approval and continued his tour of Relouse's walls. "They've requested more binders to help set traps on the beach." Apparently having already given up on her ability follow the traditional formalities of military command he hadn't even slowed his stride to speak with her. Wariness and distrust of strange outsiders was a problem that had become as familiar to Lyen as her own name, but not one that had no clear remedy. She found humans often close-minded, but rarely hateful, it was fear that fueled their prejudices and with looming war there was plenty to go around.

---

Not having been given a direct order, Lyen took her time leaving the city. It was something of a marvel to witness how the streets had emptied themselves in barely two days: The able bodied were helping in the camps, while the unable that failed flee to city stayed locked in their homes with their prayers. Only the odd squadron of soldiers crossed her path, each giving a second glance over their shoulders before disappearing around a corner. It wasn't until reaching the gate that the eerie quiet was replaced with arguing men; an integral part to war-making it seemed. The discussion hinged on whether the gate was to be operated with magic or the installed pulley mechanism. As was habit, she listened without comment, at least until a higher ranking officer arrived to sort out the disagreement. Reluctant get roped into more glorified city maintenance work, Lyen slipped away with as little remark as she'd come.

By the time she arrived that the edge of the camp a small crowd was gathering, and without invitation she followed to the center of the mayhem at the stables. She ducked between jogging squires and servants carrying around weapons and riding equipment until she found the stable-master she'd met two days before.

"What's going on?" She grabbed his arm, interrupting his work and earning a quick look of surprise that quickly turned to scorn as recognition dawned on the man.

"Advanced scout team. Taking the fight to Cape Redame." With a sharp tug away from her and a short, gruff response he made intent to be done with the conversation clear.

A pang of regret hit Lyen; she'd have liked to join them, had she not sold her horse to the same dismissive man two days prior. The lightness of her purse had outweighed both sentiment and forethought when she'd first arrived and the faithful beast was sold for too small a price. Ignoring his tone, she continued to follow him, hopeful they could renegotiate. "And I don't suppose we could discuss..." But the stable-master was already deliberately putting bodies between them, both horse and man, to get away from her. Not quite fast enough for his barking laugh to be out of Lyen's earshot. Apparently he'd not been impressed with her bartering before.

"Short lives, long resentments." She muttered to herself, watching with great envy as the group of horses set off north. Only after they passed the limits of her vision did Lyen to remember her original directive to attend to the beach where she found a group large enough to call into question how much her aid was truly needed.

badpost;didn'tread

- Lyen and a handful of other binders have repaired/fortified city walls.
- Lyen saw the Cape Redame party but couldn't go with them, very sad
- Lyen arrives at beach to help make traps

O R I F L A M M E

Lyen

Lyen'Ivhere'Zulc__ _ _ _ _

42 | F E M A L E | Y A S O I | B L O O D & E S S E N C E | M A L E D I C T____ _ _ _ _

C H A R A C T E R I S T I C S__ _ _ _ _

At a glance, Lyen fits all the negative preconceptions of Maledicts and swamp witches. She is a collector of the macabre, practices strange and dangerous magic, and may have a startling appearance and candour to any unfamiliar with Yasoi. In truth she is simply curious and genuine, and will very happily discuss the very practical uses of keeping a preserved brain on hand with anyone who asks.

Though she has been apart from her people for some time still carries their ways and features with her: The inexhaustible energy that keeps her unable to stay seated for long, bright eyes that are constantly searching for the next preoccupation, and a direct way of communicating that leaves little room for deception or subtlety. The greatest change in her time away has been her manner of dress, over years she has come to to feel comfortable in Drudgunzean fashion, which somewhat helps lessen the attention her grey skin and yellow markings draw. She ornaments herself with small pieces of her ever-growing collection braided into her thin dark hair, or pinned to the fabric of her clothes; items of varying values from Avincian coins to bird bones.

B A C K G R O U N D__ _ _ _ _

Lyen was born far from the lands of the Yasoi. Her parents were constant travellers and had happened to find themselves on the border of Drudgunze and Eskand when their daughter was born. While they set out to return, it wouldn't be until Lyen's twelfth year that she would meet another of her own kind. Her mother a ranger, and father a healer of blood magic there always seemed another diversion that kept them in human lands for just a month or year longer.

Their eventual return was met with a Mette'stiroi in celebration. The party marked an impossibly large shift in Lyen's young life. It was the night she discovered her people, her gift, and her future. She was tested amidst the festivities by Byln'Keh'Sibur, an elder who has spotted her showing off blood magic to other young Yosai. She was tested four times in total that night, each with a different group of witnesses to cheer for her results.

Byln herself accepted her as an apprentice by the end of the week, and initially things went perfectly. Lyen was fascinated by and devoted to her training and new home. But as time went on, restlessness began to set in and the confines of her new life became apparent. Five years into her teachings she ran away for the first time. Only to be tracked with a spell and pair of Dervishers and promptly returned to Byln's care. She managed another year before running off again. Eventually the attempts became frequent enough that the her mentor conceded; the remainder of Lyen's study would send her travelling the Yasoi settlements, and find teachers in elders along the way.

The offer was meant to be something of a joke, the Yasoi are spread far with great distances between them, but Lyen's thirst for freedom and knowledge was greater than Byln had expected. She was over 30 by the time she returned to Anentso, having earned golden Tetsoy and her cognomen of 'eternal student' rightly, she wore the mocking joke as a badge of honour. Byln was dead, and deciding there was little left to learn there, Leyn looked east, to return to the human lands of her childhood.

For the past ten years Lyen has lived among humans, only returning west for the occasional Mette'stiroi where she trades in artifacts and stories with others of her kind, and always leaves with an additional Tetsoy to remind her to return again. Her search for knowledge has taken her over most of the continent, but now she arrives in Parrence come to see exactly what sorts of heroes have come to answer the boy-king's call.

I N V E N T O R Y__ _ _ _ _

Karambit - A curved blade of four inches, equally useful as a tool and close quarters weapon.
Dagger - A thin five inch dagger made of silver, solely used for letting her own blood for use in spells.
Surgical Tools - Self explanatory
Preserved Tissue - The most unsettling of her collections are about half a dozen jars of organic samples including two brains. Useful tools when it comes to internal essence and blood magic, but few seem keen to learn much more into her research of the subject.
Spores of Vil'Drece - a mushroom found in Yasoi lands known for its anti-inflammatory effects when brewed as tea and intense psychedelic effects when eaten raw.

T H E G I F T__ _ _ _ _

4W - Blood - Essence - Truecaster

When the elders first discovered her gift, Lyen was using it to make lewd sculptures and small fireworks for amusement. While her magic now takes a much different form, she still regards it as an exquisite tool of nature to be studied and marvelled as much as any of the more gentle types, and finds the idea of 'good' and 'bad' magic absurd although all to common in humans.

While her truecasting limitation makes external blood and essence magics rather predictable and unimpressive, her precision and power on the internal level is anything but. Her maledict studies included detail study of the effect of poisons and remedies on the body's composition allowing her to mimic, or even repress, most symptoms with a simple touch of drawn essence.

Internal blood magic is more complex; generally these spells require drawing from her own mana by blood a producing parasites to infect the bodies of others. There 'parasites', while only surviving for a few days, may have any of a variety of uses: Tracking, energy leeching, monitoring, or damage.

S T R E N G T H S & S K I L L S__ _ _ _ _

❖ Adaptable: Owing to both her love of learning and complete lack of discipline Lyen is something of a jack-of-all-trades. While she doesn't excel at much anything beyond the use and study of her gift, she has tried a wide assortment of skills for varying amounts of time with poor to middling results. These include; whittling, archery, midwifing, cake-making, tailoring, fishing, plan-fluting, and more.
❖ Anatomical knowledge: A consequence to her studies and precision required to preform maledict spells Lyen knows more about the internal processes of human and yasoi than most medical practitioners.

W E A K N E S S E S & F L A W S__ _ _ _ _

❖ Inhuman: Her skin being a greyer tone and tall lithe figure make it hard for Lyen to blend in. Humans are exceptionally wary of her after learning about her particular type of magic of reasons she will never fully understand but has grown accustomed to.
❖ Magical Limits: In addition to only being able to truecast, Lyen has a limited drawing range and can only cast within arms reach.
❖ Impulsive: While Lyen might be willing enough to go along with a plan, its rare she's ever able to stick to it; especially if something interesting comes up.

C O L O U R C O D E & O T H E R__ _ _ _ _

❖ D4E637

O R I F L A M M E

[+]

Lyen'Ivhere'Zulc__ _ _ _ _

42 | F E M A L E | Y A S O I | B L O O D & E S S E N C E | M A L E D I C T____ _ _ _ _

C H A R A C T E R I S T I C S__ _ _ _ _

At a glance, Lyen fits all the negative preconceptions of Maledicts and swamp witches. She is a collector of the macabre, practices strange and dangerous magic, and may have a startling appearance and candour to any unfamiliar with Yasoi. In truth she is simply curious and genuine, and will very happily discuss the very practical uses of keeping a preserved brain on hand with anyone who asks.

Though she has been apart from her people for some time still carries their ways and features with her: The inexhaustible energy that keeps her unable to stay seated for long, bright eyes that are constantly searching for the next preoccupation, and a direct way of communicating that leaves little room for deception or subtlety. The greatest change in her time away has been her manner of dress, over years she has come to to feel comfortable in Drudgunzean fashion, which somewhat helps lessen the attention her grey skin and yellow markings draw. She ornaments herself with small pieces of her ever-growing collection braided into her thin dark hair, or pinned to the fabric of her clothes; items of varying values from Avincian coins to bird bones.

B A C K G R O U N D__ _ _ _ _

Lyen was born far from the lands of the Yasoi. Her parents were constant travellers and had happened to find themselves on the border of Drudgunze and Eskand when their daughter was born. While they set out to return, it wouldn't be until Lyen's twelfth year that she would meet another of her own kind. Her mother a ranger, and father a healer of blood magic there always seemed another diversion that kept them in human lands for just a month or year longer.

Their eventual return was met with a Mette'stiroi in celebration. The party marked an impossibly large shift in Lyen's young life. It was the night she discovered her people, her gift, and her future. She was tested amidst the festivities by Byln'Keh'Sibur, an elder who has spotted her showing off blood magic to other young Yosai. She was tested four times in total that night, each with a different group of witnesses to cheer for her results.

Byln herself accepted her as an apprentice by the end of the week, and initially things went perfectly. Lyen was fascinated by and devoted to her training and new home. But as time went on, restlessness began to set in and the confines of her new life became apparent. Five years into her teachings she ran away for the first time. Only to be tracked with a spell and pair of Dervishers and promptly returned to Byln's care. She managed another year before running off again. Eventually the attempts became frequent enough that the her mentor conceded; the remainder of Lyen's study would send her travelling the Yasoi settlements, and find teachers in elders along the way.

The offer was meant to be something of a joke, the Yasoi are spread far with great distances between them, but Lyen's thirst for freedom and knowledge was greater than Byln had expected. She was over 30 by the time she returned to Anentso, having earned golden Tetsoy and her cognomen of 'eternal student' rightly, she wore the mocking joke as a badge of honour. Byln was dead, and deciding there was little left to learn there, Leyn looked east, to return to the human lands of her childhood.

For the past ten years Lyen has lived among humans, only returning west for the occasional Mette'stiroi where she trades in artifacts and stories with others of her kind, and always leaves with an additional Tetsoy to remind her to return again. Her search for knowledge has taken her over most of the continent, but now she arrives in Parrence come to see exactly what sorts of heroes have come to answer the boy-king's call.

I N V E N T O R Y__ _ _ _ _

Karambit - A curved blade of four inches, equally useful as a tool and close quarters weapon.
Dagger - A thin five inch dagger made of silver, solely used for letting her own blood for use in spells.
Surgical Tools - Self explanatory
Preserved Tissue - The most unsettling of her collections are about half a dozen jars of organic samples including two brains. Useful tools when it comes to internal essence and blood magic, but few seem keen to learn much more into her research of the subject.
Spores of Vil'Drece - a mushroom found in Yasoi lands known for its anti-inflammatory effects when brewed as tea and intense psychedelic effects when eaten raw.

T H E G I F T__ _ _ _ _

4W - Blood - Essence - Truecaster

When the elders first discovered her gift, Lyen was using it to make lewd sculptures and small fireworks for amusement. While her magic now takes a much different form, she still regards it as an exquisite tool of nature to be studied and marvelled as much as any of the more gentle types, and finds the idea of 'good' and 'bad' magic absurd although all to common in humans.

While her truecasting limitation makes external blood and essence magics rather predictable and unimpressive, her precision and power on the internal level is anything but. Her maledict studies included detail study of the effect of poisons and remedies on the body's composition allowing her to mimic, or even repress, most symptoms with a simple touch of drawn essence.

Internal blood magic is more complex; generally these spells require drawing from her own mana by blood a producing parasites to infect the bodies of others. There 'parasites', while only surviving for a few days, may have any of a variety of uses: Tracking, energy leeching, monitoring, or damage.

S T R E N G T H S & S K I L L S__ _ _ _ _

❖ Adaptable: Owing to both her love of learning and complete lack of discipline Lyen is something of a jack-of-all-trades. While she doesn't excel at much anything beyond the use and study of her gift, she has tried a wide assortment of skills for varying amounts of time with poor to middling results. These include; whittling, archery, midwifing, cake-making, tailoring, fishing, plan-fluting, and more.
❖ Anatomical knowledge: A consequence to her studies and precision required to preform maledict spells Lyen knows more about the internal processes of human and yasoi than most medical practitioners.

W E A K N E S S E S & F L A W S__ _ _ _ _

❖ Inhuman: Her skin being a greyer tone and tall lithe figure make it hard for Lyen to blend in. Humans are exceptionally wary of her after learning about her particular type of magic of reasons she will never fully understand but has grown accustomed to.
❖ Magical Limits: In addition to only being able to truecast, Lyen has a limited drawing range and can only cast within arms reach.
❖ Impulsive: While Lyen might be willing enough to go along with a plan, its rare she's ever able to stick to it; especially if something interesting comes up.

C O L O U R C O D E & O T H E R__ _ _ _ _

❖ D4E637

O R I F L A M M E

Voicing my interest as well.