Blood & Feathers [Inactive]

Delany wheezed and gasped for fresh air, the smoke from her incinerated home still deep in her lungs threatened to choke the life from her. She stumbled down the street away from the destroyed house and the frantic efforts of the fire brigade to keep the flames from spreading to nearby structures. No one noticed her.


She turned a corner and clung to the soft, clay-stone wall of the building. In her gagging, disoriented state, she couldn't recall which home it was. Her body continued to wrack itself in coughing seizures; however, this time she actually spat up a dark, black gob from somewhere within and her breathing quickly eased.


She dared a look around the corner and saw the brigade continue their assault on the raging inferno that once was her home. Delany struggled between fits of additional coughing and sobs as she watched her home, her life, her memories engulfed in a raging beast of flame.


Nothing, she thought to herself as she wrapped her arms around her body and slowly sank to the ground. I have nothing, now.


Delany buried her face in the crook of her arm and allowed the tears to flow freely. The persistent coughing was replaced with outright weeping as the finality of what had occurred struck her. She gifted herself with a moment of release as the crying continued unabated. Finally, she took herself to task for her display.


“You're crying like a little girl,” she scolded quietly. “Get up, stupid. There's nothing more you can do here now. Get up and get on with life.”


Delany eased herself to her feet as she used the wall at her back for support. Easier said than done, she thought, but there's no time like the present.


She took one last look at her home, or what remained of it. Thick, dark smoke belched up from the foundation of the small structure while the flames continued to devour anything they could in their vain effort to remain alive. However, the brigade had done a fine job of containing the blaze and now simply stood by and waited for it to burn itself out.


Delany took a deep, calming breath and coughed out one last, remaining cough. As she did, she looked up and down the street at all of the activity and attention her little home had mustered. A quick glance, but then her eyes caught and locked with a pair of eyes that saw her from the alley down the street.


Gary Chance had seen her.


Without hesitation, Delany turned and ran. She wanted to put as much distance between her and Gary as possible.


Her vision was still fuzzy, but it was enough to flee down the darkened streets. It would have to be. If Gary caught her, he would kill her.


Without warning, her vision darkened and a mind-splitting headache sliced deep into her head. She lost her step, tripped and rolled into a heap under a deserted vendor's cart. She tried to rise, but the pain was too intense. She clenched her eyes shut and gritted her teeth against the pressure that was building inside her head. She never saw Gary run past her hidden place beneath the cart.


Then, as suddenly as it came, the headache stopped.


Delany heard voices and realized that she was lying on a soft, down-filled bed. The sounds echoed around her which told her that she was no longer in the street under a cart, but in a large room.


She opened her eyes to find an unexpected sight. Large, golden divine statues decorated a large hall with their mere presence. Andoras, Sagae, Tardinna were represented as were the others that she could not at this moment recall. Religion hadn't been a strong subject in her abusive home, but she had heard a few stories from time to time to recognize some of the statues.


Around the room she found other umans, elves, orcs, dragons … it was mind-rending. In confusion, her eyes quickly darted about in search of an exit. I might be able to sneak out of here, she thought. I don't think they've seen me.


A voice thundered, which told her that they were in Heaven's Rest. She hesitated and listened as one of the humans began to converse with the disembodied voice. They talked about the Architect (That's one I know, she thought to herself.) and the created world being doomed. They talked about guardians and going on a quest to save Yorn.


The uman was unconvinced, but something in the voice's reply about reaching down into one's self and finding the hero within resonated with Delany. As if she had always known, Delany simply knew that she had been prepared for this moment, this place, in time. Suddenly, the loss of her home and the treachery of Gary seemed small and meaningless.


Without thinking why, Delany spoke, “I will accept this role and do whatever is necessary of me to save Yorn.”
 
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Thova sighed to the Morgrow beginning to explain the reasoning for their magical appearance in this room, each of them among strangers. She knew nothing of the company around her. Were they royalty? Thieves? Masters of magic or whatever their choice of craft? Slaves? Rebels? Average folk that were caught in the midst of something far beyond their comprehension? The dwarf maiden could only assume she would come to know about the others in due time. But they all seemed to have nothing in common. What could they possibly possess that would have all of them gather here?


Turning her attention back to the Morgrow, Thova felt her heart sink to the mentioning of their great Creator vanishing. "Gone? No...no no he...he can't be gone. He is the Creator. He took the duty upon himself to watch out for us...to ensure that our world is held together and there is order. Why would he just disappear?" asked Thova more to herself, shaking as her stomach lurched to the thought of all of the tremors and quakes that occurred deep within Ghal Basob. They were minor but still...they were very rare. And they, those who were brought to the room, were deemed the ones to put the crumbling world back together.


By the eight...why? Why did it have to be them?


The noble uman caught Thova's attention, breaking her from her trance as she heard the others starting to accept the duty to become a Guardian. Still overwhelmed with the fear of what would happen, Thova glanced up to the uman and touched his arm lightly, not wanting to scare him.


"Noble uman...I understand your wishes to not partake in such a quest. I am sure each of us have their own reasons to not do it...out of fear, anger, or otherwise. But...some of us...have nothing left to go back to. I do not know what was left behind in your life, sire, before we were brought here...but I have nothing to return to except an empty home and a fire in the hearth. If you do have someone, someone important...would you wish for them to die in the blazes of our crumbling Yorn?" asked Thova quietly, her face plagued from the shadows, showing lines and wrinkles on her face making her look older and drained of life.
 
"The First? Dire Task? Guardians? This is so confusing..." Teka thought to himself as he listened to the Mogrow answering the Uman's question. He thought to himself as he listened and when the Mogrow asked them if they will accept the mission, Teka sat up to the edge of his bed and nodded. "I will go." Although it's quite sudden for him and probably everyone else but the situation sounds pretty bad. This is the first time Teka has heard these things but he believed in it. He also wondered what his skills and talents are but he thought his time along with his father hunting would be helping him now although: He. Hasn't. Even. Used. A. Bow. Or even at least not a weapon.
 

As he listened to the Dwarven maiden's plea, Kassiel sighed, closing his eyes for a bit, realising there was no way he could let all these other people get the best of him. After all, he was the heir of th great House Varkon, he couldn't possibly back down from a mission this important. After all, the information provided by the Morgow seemed accurate. Indeed, there have been more and more earthquakes, most of them pretty serious. If the Architect himself had left them, then it was up to them to right his wrong.


"Very well, being the man my family and title raised me to be, I cannot pass on the honor of taking the name of Guardian. You have my word, almighty Morgow, that I shall do my best to vanquish the threat that looms over Yorn and bring back the Father of All. Of that, I swear!" he spoke, a fire burning in his eyes as he took one step forward.


The Morgow glanced upon the heroes that now were nearing him, each devoting their lives and strength to the cause. He was surprised so many of them survived at first, and yet his stunning grew when he saw how willingly they all accepted, albeit without some doubts in their hearts!


"Very well," the voice thundered again, this time the God's actual lips moving "rise and be glorious, heroes, for henceforth, you shall be known as Guardians of the First!" he ended, waving his hand in a wide arc in front of him, his eyes gleaming for a moment, before a searing pain echoed on Kassiel's back. It was like a million hot cattle prods had laid on his back, burning his skin and clothes to ashes. The pain was enough for Kassiel to stagger on his feet. After all, the young Lord was used to extreme pain.


As he regained his senses, the fire in his back dwindling, he tried turning his head to better see what has happened to him. He could spot a marking of sort, and then remembered about the mark of the Guardians. The Holy Mark was now sitting gracefully on his body, small transparent traces of smoke lifting from where he was burnt.


"This mark you all have been branded with shows your new status. Never forget that pain, for it is the pain that each and everyone living being on Yorn shall feel if you fail your quest!"


The Morgow glanced again upon the room and saw the shapes of two bodies, horribly disfigured. One was supposed to be an Elf Royal Guard from Hordramas, the other, another Dwarf from Ghal Basob.They were both horribly disfigured, their bodies burnt from the trip towards Heaven's Rest. "It seems not all of the original chosen made it. Indeed, the teleportation ritual was dangerous, and there was a high chance none of you would make it. That serves to demonstrate how desperate we are. Now, if you shall follow me, I shall lead you towards the Forge. We cannot allow you to walk around without proper equipment! Come, follow me!" the lesser God said, as pathway spawned before them, leading them outside into a corrider.

​
 
Teka cried out in pain as his hands felt burnt like they had touched a hot furnace, wanting to hold it like a fist but can't. The feeling somehow burnt his black leather fingerless gloves into ash. His body was shaking because of the pain he had never felt before as he slowly raised his hand up and looked at them. There are marks looking exactly as each other on top of his hand with transparent smoke coming of it. After having some control of his shaking hands, Teka stood up, still wobbling because of the pain and followed The Morgow out of the room and into the corridor...
 
Kvothe's eyes went wide when his entire back felt like it was burning. It was not a new sensation to him, the burning of flesh, but this was very different. Kvothe kept tight lipped and squeezed his fists so hard it drew blood.


Kvothe hurriedly took his shirt off to see what it was but all he saw was a burning and smoke coming from his back. He ground his teeth together in pain as his entire back seared unto the bone. He was bent over standing, openly gritting his teeth together. Etched onto his face was the pain of the burn and the trauma of his past.


Then the pain abruptly stopped and he fell to his knees, breathing heavily. He had the Holy Mark as shown in the books marked across his back like wings. Was this the Gods way of mocking him?


Kvothe sensed a sudden upsurge in the power of his flame, like it just had been multiplied in volume by 100x. Kvothe breathed slowly, trying to keep it under control. Now was not the time to let it loose.


Kvothe put his shirt back on and followed the Morgrow towards where he would lead them. He put his impassive face back on and walked with care. His flame was at a ridiculous level like he never felt before and he really didn't want to push it.
 
Delany listened the the uman, now self-proclaimed as the heir to House Varkon, make his impassioned affirmation of the quest. How arrogant, she thought. If we have to follow him, I'm not sure how successful this will turn out. He bears a close watch and short leash.


Before she could consider further the others in the room, the morgow's booming voice echoed through the large hall as he accepted their varied oaths. It waved its hand and a sudden, burning pain lanced into her left forearm as a sigil was seared into her skin. The pain brought Delany to her knees as she clutched at her arm. Tears eeked out of her eyes as she clenched them and her teeth against the pain.


After a moment, the pain subsided to a more tolerable ache. She glanced around the room and realized that the others suffered a similar experience with the exception of an elf and a dwarf. Their charred remains proved the evidence of the powerful magics that brought them all to Heaven's Rest.


At the morgow's order, Delany followed close behind the others as the demi-god led them from the hall into an outer corridor.


What have I committed myself to now? she thought with trepidation.
 
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Rusar was only mildly surprised when the uman decided to reconsider his initial answer and join the cause. She focused her attention to all the other who agreed to be guardians before returning her gaze their hosts as they began to speak once more. The searing pain which followed a simple wave of a hand was nearly crippling causing her to take a knee to keep from falling over. A cry of pain was caught in her throat as she gasped as the pain engulfed her left shoulder radiating down the rest of her back and arm. She shut her eyes tightly breathing in shaking breaths from between cleaned teeth. Rusar was no stranger to pain or burns due to the years of studying magic. It was common for spells to back fire on the first time using a few times she'd given her self fairly nasty burns along her hands and arms, how ever this pain was of a whole other level far beyond anything ever felt before. She grabbed at the cloth in front of her shoulder to keep from possibly burning her hands as well, her shirt come loose slightly no doubt from the burn upon her shoulder. When the pain finally faded to a dull throb Rusars body relaxed as she panted softly. she gingerly reached for her shoulder still able to feel the heat from the mark as she traced the raised skin. She saw the markings that were no doubt the same as hers.


Rusar looked up when the booming voice spoke again warning them of the weight of their quest. Rusar took a few deep breaths before pushing her self back to her feet, feeling a tad light headed. She didn't want to think of what would happen if they failed their quest, how the chaotic world would fall even deeper into despair and destruction. She took a moment to recenter her self and mentally block out the ache on her shoulder before spying the corridor that they were expected to follow. She fized her shirt slightly so it wasn't falling before venturing forth down the corridor slightly hesitant given the painful branding they had just been "blessed" with.
 
Thova softened to the uman taking her words into consideration, smiling towards him taking a moment's pause to consider his options and who he would be fighting for if he were to take on such a responsibility as becoming a Guardian. She watched the uman as well as the others pledge their loyalty to the cause before turning to the Morgow and nodded her head as well. "I shall take the oath to become a Guardian for Yorn and to help restore balance to all that was lost with the Father's absence," she vowed, standing a little more upright to show her devotion to the cause. Part of her taking the vow, she guessed, was her dwarven pride...but the other half was certainly that she had nothing to return to at home...there was no way she could have shown up here and gone back home with nothing...


The wave of the God's hand threw off Thova for a moment, frowning in curiosity to why his eyes glowed before her eyes grew wide to a searing pain in her neck. A cry of surprise escaped her lips as she fell with shaking knees to the ground, her hand covering her neck as she felt a searing pain, hotter than the heat of any forge she ever used on her bare skin. She could feel the hot pain crawl along her skin in distinct lines, her hand trembling to try and control herself as she breathed deeply to bare through it before a heavy sigh of relief escaped her lips to the burning ending. Her head hung for a moment while she tried to catch her breath, pushing herself onto her feet once more. What...what happened to them? Thova looked around to see all of the others squirming in agonizing pain before she thought of something. Hurrying to the golden statue of Thoran, Thova removed her hand and gasped to see a mark on her skin, not like her brandings on her face but a new mark...an elaborate design embroidered into her skin seamlessly. "Ancestors..." she gasped to herself, touching her neck carefully.


Still a little distracted from the new mark on her flesh, Thova looked behind her towards the Morgow and the other ancient god, frowning at the site of the disfigured bodies before her ears perked at the sound of a Forge. "Forge..." she repeated, starting to walk to follow behind the Morgow, sticking close to the uman.
 
His whole right arm was burning from the mark of the guardian of his entire right arm. The pain was so much that he started to swear a mile a minute until the pain died away. He could see the mark on his whole arm along with some of the other people's mark. I can't believe I was given a chance to help keep the world at peace. This is the greatest thing that has happened to me since I was brought into the Shankara 200 years ago. I feel like I have a place now and we have to keep our world safe.





Val still didn't like the other people in the room but he had some respect for the other dragon guardian here and would try to gain his respect. Val was happy that there was one more of his kind that was chosen. He was ready for anything that Morgow would ask him to do and would do it until he died. This was a great amount of weight put on his shoulders.
 
A searing pain erupted across Nymira's left wrist, and she again wondered if this all was indeed a trap. Her knees wobbled and threatened to give out as she squeezed her right hand over her wrist in a vain attempt to dull the pain. She took a half-step back and leaned against a nearby bed for support. Her mouth twisted in a scowl as she gritted her teeth, refusing to make a sound as she suffered the blinding pain. She had before felt immense pain, but this experience was something new. It felt as if there was a phoenix egg inside her arm, burning at her skin from the inside in an attempt to get out.


Not for the first time, Nymira searched for some sort of weapon. She craved for something to defend herself with. However, as her eye found the charred remains of those that did not make the journey and the pain in her wrist subsided, she realized that if the god had wanted to kill her, she would already be dead.


Taking a deep breath, Nymira's eyes moved to her wrist and she silently examined the brand on her skin. This was both confusing and overwhelming, but if a god had appointed her to protect the world, who was she to deny him?


Slowly, Nymira straightened her shoulders and resigned herself to her newly appointed title as guardian. She dropped her arms to her side, ignoring the residual pain from her wrist, and stepped forward to follow the rest of those that had been chosen.
 
Tamur listened as the Morgow gave his speech, listened to the Uman as he responded, listened to everyone who spoke. He remained silent through it all, seeing no real need to speak. When he felt the pain in his chest, in his mind he thought he was dying, but his heart held him firm, and he did not flinch in the slightest, only tightened his fists at his sides. He looked at the mark on his chest, and at each of the others. They were what the Morgow called Guardians. Protectors of their world, they had to find the Architect. Not too hard.


Tamur made his way over to the other dragon and walked beside him after the god that was leading them to the forge. Apparently they were going to recieve equipment of some form. Likely weapons, maybe armour, and who knew what else. Tamur still remained silent, not wanting to voice his thoughts until he needed to.
 

As the Morgow left the room, Kassiel followed from behind him, still wary of his surroundings. No little was his surprise when he saw the door from which they came into the hallway, close behind. Before he could say anything, the Morgow's voice rung throughout the corridor. "Heaven's Rest is unlike any other place you have been before. It is not a physical place, its rooms are shaped by our will. If we want a room to appear, then it shall appear and cease to exist whenever we want it to. The room you've just been into never existed before we summoned you, and now it has fulfilled its purpose and we no longer need it. There is but one hall in this entire dimension that cannot be erased, and has been there since the creation of Heaven's Rest, The Hall of Stars, where the First themselves reside now, doing their best to keep your world from falling to pieces.". As they strolled down it, they eventually reached a door apparently made from silver. "Here we are!" he demigod cooed before entering it. Inside was dark, though not as dark as the first room they've been in, a sound of a hammer hitting an anvil resonating. "Guardians, I present to thee the best smith among the Dorak, Mhulnjr the Forgekiller." As the Morgow presented him, another demigod approached them. This one was nowhere near as slim and graceful as the his brother, but rather bulky, muscular and apparently rough. "So, these are the new Guardians eh? Don't look like much to me. Well, since you are already here, that means you've been branded with the mark, and need to get going. Well I shan't keep you long, just tell me what weapon do you like using the most, and I shall craft it for you!" the Dorak spoke.


Kassiel listened as the others told the mighty demigod their preferences, waiting for his turn. When the others finally finished telling the Dorak their wishes, he stated as well. "I usually use two swords for combat and I would be grateful shall you decide to craft them for me.". His tone was humble, gentle as when adressing a superior. Afterall , these were gods nonetheless, even though lesser ones. "Very well Guardians, I shall get to work, but don't wait on me. I'm sure my brother still has more to tell you about your quest. You shall have your weapons within the hour." the Dorak spoke again, turning his back and approaching the forge behind him. The Morgow remained silent so far, but when the Dorak started turning away, he waved his hand towards the exit to signal the Guardians to follow him outside. Once in the corridor again, the graceful being took a right and hastened the pace until they've reached an enourmous gate that was superbly painted in so many fascinating colors, showing what appeared to be the entire genesis of Yorn itself. The Morgow glanced at the magnicicent door once and then back at the Guardians before speaking. "This is the door that leads into the Hall Of Stars, the sanctum of the First. Inside it lie the First, concentrating their entire power to maintain Yorn in its actual state. Such has it been ever since the Architect left and now we, the Morgows and Doraks, make sure you, the last hope of this world are prepared to face the challenges that await you ahead. The doors have been shut and locked, with no possibility of opening, and believe me, we've tried everything. The only thing we can do now, is locate the Architect and try and convince him to come back to his children. The only way to do that, however, is to locate the most ancient artifacts of Yorn, the Khalladrim Scrolls, the Scrolls that have been written by the Almighty Father himself, depicting his reasons for creating Yorn and personal thoughts. Maybe there is something in there that can help you locate his whereabouts!".


Right in the middle of the conversations between the Guardians and the Morgow, sounds were heard from behind them. The Dorak from before, the smith, was heading towards them, carrying somethign wrapped in cloth in his arms. As he neared them, he gently placed the clothed object down, opening the knot on the wrapping material to reveal weapons shining bright as a full moon in the darkest night. Swords, spears, daggers and what not, made out of Valentium Steel, strong yet agile and most importantly, indestructable. "Here, the Guardians should have reliable weapons, don't you think?" the Dorak said with a warm smile. After the others picked their assigned weapons from the pile, Kassiel also approached and grabbed the remaining two swords. It was amazing how much they resembled his blade, Fang, from his home back in Eagle's Crest. "Astounding." he exclaimed, before placing them at his belt, in their fine leather sheaths. "So, what now?" he young Lord inquired. "Now you shall be transported as near as we can to the location of one of the Khalladrim Scrolls. We do not know its exact location, but we have found out it is somewhere near a Uman village to the far South of the city you call Eagle's Crest. The name of the village is Silvond and it is a mining village. The Scrolls are known for their magic properties, so asking the villagers about any strange activity that has been occuring nearby would be a good first step. Good luck, Guardians, and may the First guide you in your path!" the Morgow spoke, waving his hand again. Kassiel started feeling the same headache from before, more milder this time, feeling himself being pulled back by something, his vision darkening once more.

​
 
Kvothe was quiet for most of the walk, observing his surroundings. He was admittedly impressed at how rooms could disappear at his will. He sure didn't want to be in one when it is destroyed at their will.


When they walked through the armoury, he was in thought as some gave immediate requests. He then spoke: "Very light but fire resistant armour. Oh, and some gloves that could help my fire casting. No weapons otherwise though. I fight only with my fire."


To be fair, he could use the fire to punch things hard among other things. Fire was good for more than just destruction as most people see it as.


While listening to the demigod speak, he also noticed the sound of the smithy behind them. He put on the armour, it fit perfectly and was as light as air. The gloves were odd, almost scaly. But not like a dragon. It was like an eel or snake. In any case he helped his now suddenly amplified fire magic, he could feel it burning inside him ever since that ridiculous boost he got from it from that mark.


Suddenly, his head hurt again. It was not as bad as before, but still not pleasant. He simply awaited for them to be transported to the village.


Tapatalk is for scrubs. I use Tapatalk. Why are you talking to this scrub?
 
Delany followed along with the other guardians. She still hadn't fully comprehended what she was doing, but there was really no option now other than to move forward. The door closed behind them and they walked along a magnificent hallway to where the forge-smith would craft the weapons that they would need in their quest.


When asked, Delany sheepishly requested a short sword and a dagger, having lost hers in the moments prior to awakening at Heaven's Rest. She felt awkward asking a demigod for something so simple – as if he didn't have better things to do with his time?


The group was escorted out so that Mhulnjr, the smith, could do his work. Their guide showed them the elaborate door that led to the Hall of Stars. Delany had never seen its like in all of her travels.


Before she could marvel at it more, the smith arrived with their weapons. Bashfully, Delany took her simple sword and dagger which were beautifully crafted, but not so fancy as some of the other weapons that were provided. It will be enough, she thought as she was never one for flashy things.


With a short preamble, their guide spoke of some scrolls that they were to find and then he waved his hand. Delany dropped into unconsciousness.
 
Tamur nodded his head in respectful greeting to the smith. When asked his prefered weapon, he gave it a moment of thought.


"Just a simple spear will do. Throwable or stabbable, it make no difference. Thank you for taking the time to craft us such fine gear."


He followed after the others in silence after that, remaining next to his dragon bretheren. When they came to the door of the Hall of Stars, the Morgow gave another long speech about the First and such. Then the smith came in and distributed the weapons. He gave Tamur a beautiful but simple and well-balanced spear, as well as a sheath to place it un on his back. There was room for more than the one, which made him question what would happen in the future. He thanked the smith for the spear as he listened to the other god speak about some scrolls and some town, before finally Tamur faded into unconsciousness.
 
"A bladed bow with very light but resistant armor. Those would be fine for me. Thank you." Teka said respectfully to the Forgekiller before following the others to the massive gate. Soon, right in the middle of listening to the Mogrow, the Forgekiller arrived. Teka took his armor almost last. It's a bladed bow like he wanted along with his armor. Somehow the Forgekiller knew he preferred stealth other than fighting head-on as the armor was light but very resistant as Teka asked and it's also camouflaged, allowing him to hide very easily. The quiver is full of arrows and he also picked it up, wearing them before wearing the bow over his torso.


A while later, The Mogrow talked about a scroll of some sort before Teka's vision started to go black... Seems that he had passed out again...
 
I would like two single handed swords made for me that are light but strong. He followed the rest of the group to two large gates that were very ornate. He continued to listen to the god but had that at the back of his mind and he wanted to just get his supplies and get out of here. The Forgekiller came up to him and handed him to single handed swords and walked off. Thanks a lot, I need to try these thing before we go. Val did some quick sword flicks with both swords equipped to get used to the new swords before leaving this place. He caught up with the rest of the group and heard about the scrolls and town until he was overwhelmed with a darkness and collapsed unconscious
 
Rusar followed along in silent awe of the world around her interested in how a place could exist and function. Each new turn and room just proved as a reminder as to how much weight their task carried that such powerful celestial being were asking mere mortals for help, granted they had been gifted with boons however they were still mortal. When her turn came to ask for a weapon she found her voice caught for a moment before respectfully requesting a sturdy long bow in which to cast her magic through with arrows and light armor. She’d never trained much to wear amour but figured any protection would be useful for what they were going to be facing.


She listened carefully to all that was being said as they walked through the halls and came do a great door. Rusar admired the paintings upon the door remember bits from texts she had read during her studies. The painting its self was gorgeous with all of its detail. She made mental notes on scrolls they were searching for and hoped that they were at least in safe locations, though part of her doubt it. The soft clinks of metal dew her attention as the smith arrived with the weapons requested. All were impressive and beautiful in their own way. Rusar picked up the non-bladed bow examining the craftsmanship put into the weapon and the intricate runes that had been carved into the bow.


As the other geared up she realized that time was not really on their said to be awe struck and donned the armor that was provided along with a quiver of arrows. She slipped her bow over her shoulder as the Morgow spoke up mentioning the village they would be searching first. She’s never ventured much across Yorn so she hoped one of the others knew of the location which they were headed, most likely one of the Umands. As the Morgow waved his hands Rusar tensed on reflex, sing as the last time he did so was needed with near blinding pain. Instead she felt the familiar pull of darkness and the headache onces more and figured they were being teleported instead. As the world faded to black she silently hoped that the trip to Silvond was as successful as the trip to Haven’s rest.
 
Faeliel was walking home from a busy day. Teaching children the ways of combat was something she loved. It was her normal everyday routine, wake up, get ready go teach the children, then come back home and rest, and she loved it. Although a splitting headache was her downfall today, as she couldn't give her full attention to the young ones, which she thought of them as family.


Reaching her home, she entered her bedroom, a cozy two room cottage is what she lived in. It wasn't the biggest of places, but it was home. She made her way to her bed, not bothering to remove any piece of her clothing of, the splitting headache worsened each passing second. She layed down on her bed, her eyes beginning to fall, the sound of the wind lulling her to sleep.


She awoke sometime late into the night. Noticing her surroundings were not one of her own, she quickly got out of the plush bed. Everything around her was darkness, and not the kind she was fond of. From fear of anything terrible to happen, she stayed fixated in her place.


"WELCOME,GUARDIAN," a voice thundered "TO HEAVEN'S REST, HOME OF THE GODS OF YORN!" Faeliel turned and the room was instantly lit by torches from either side of room, giving her a view of how big it really was. Infront of her stood a Morgow, a child of the First, tall and proud, looking down on her.


"Do not fear, for I shan't harm you. On the contrary, we need your help desperately." He told Fae, his lips not moving. She was taken aback by this. "M-my help?" She asked meekly, afraid to insult the Morgow. "W- why me?" She added.


"You will be fully informed on what you must do and where you must go, should you accept the honor of becoming a Guardian. Being picked by the First for your skills and talents is one matter, but following their orders is another. Fear not, for you will be fully equipped and prepared for the journey ahead of you, that I can promise! Reach deep down into your souls to see whether you are ready for this or not, as the perils that lie ahead are not for those faint of heart! So, chosen one, shall you accept the burden of saving your homeworld? " he asked her. She thought hard about it, she couldn't bare the thought of the familis and children in Hordramas, being dragged into danger just because of her petty selfishness. "I accept." She said with courage.


"Very well," the voice thundered again, this time the God's actual lips moving "rise and be glorious, hero, for henceforth, you shall be known as a Guardian of the First!" he ended, waving his hand in a wide arc in front of him, his eyes gleaming for a moment. Then, a pain coming from Faeliel's left thigh caused her to fall on her knees, grabbing hold of it. She chose to hold a cry that was about to come out. A few minutes passed and the pain had disappeared, the Holy Mark in its place. "This mark you have been branded with shows your new status. Never forget that pain, for it is the pain that each and every living being on Yorn shall feel if you fail your quest! Now, if you shall follow me, I shall lead you towards the Forge. We cannot allow you to walk around without proper equipment! Come, follow me!" the lesser God said, as a pathway spawned before him, leading them outside into a corrider.


A few minutes into the walk they made way to silver door. "Here we are!" he demigod cooed before entering it. Inside was dark, though not as dark as the first room they've been in, a sound of a hammer hitting an anvil resonating. "Guardian, I present to thee the best smith among the Dorak, Mhulnjr the Forgekiller." As the Morgow presented him, another demigod approached them. This one was nowhere near as slim and graceful as the his brother, but rather bulky, muscular and apparently rough. "So, there's another one eh? Don't look like much to me. Well, since you are already here, that means you've been branded with the mark, and need to get going. Well I shan't keep you long, just tell me what weapon do you like using the most, and I shall craft it for you!" He told her. She gave it some thought. She knew just what she wanted. "Dual hadhafangs have been my companion from day one sir." She told him, a noticable shine in her eyes. "Very well Guardian, I shall get to work, but don't wait on me. I'm sure my brother still has more to tell you about your quest. You shall have your weapons within the hour."


The Morgow waved his hand towards the exit, signalling Fae to follow him. When out opin the corridor, the Morgow made a right and quickened his pace until they reached a large, colorful gate which awed Fae. "This is the door that leads into the Hall Of Stars, the sanctum of the First. Inside it lie the First, concentrating their entire power to maintain Yorn in its actual state. Such has it been ever since the Architect left and now we, the Morgows and Doraks, make sure you, the last hope of this world are prepared to face the challenges that await you ahead. The doors have been shut and locked, with no possibility of opening, and believe me, we've tried everything. The only thing we can do now, is locate the Architect and try and convince him to come back to his children. The only way to do that, however, is to locate the most ancient artifacts of Yorn, the Khalladrim Scrolls, the Scrolls that have been written by the Almighty Father himself, depicting his reasons for creating Yorn and personal thoughts. Maybe there is something in there that can help you locate his whereabouts!" The Morgow stated. A few minutes later, the Dorak emerged, dual hadhafangs in hand. "Here, a durable hand-crafted set of dual hadhafangs." He said with a smile. She picked it up and eyed it, beautiful craftsmanship, and lightweight. "Now what?" Fae asked, turning back to the Morgow.


"Now you shall be transported as near as we can to the location of one of the Khalladrim Scrolls. We do not know its exact location, but we have found out it is somewhere near a Uman village to the far South of the city you call Eagle's Crest. The name of the village is Silvond and it is a mining village. The Scrolls are known for their magic properties, so asking the villagers about any strange activity that has been occuring nearby would be a good first step. I have sent the others ahead of you. I do hope you find them. Good luck, Guardian, and may the First guide you in your path!" He said with a wave of then hand, the terrible headache Fae had awhile ago, returning once again, yet not as strong and her vision turning back to darkness yet again.
 

The sound of crickets singing their ballads was the one Kassiel awoke to, laid back on the ground with his face upwards as he was. The sky was dark, Mistress Night having lowered her veil upon Yorn, condemning almost all creatures to sleep. He raised up, his head heavy from processing all the events that had occured to him before, wondering if it all was just a dream. But no, it couldn't be, as he had his leather armor put on, his two Valentium swords he received from the Dorak at his belt, sitting in their sheaths. Also, he could swear he did not go to sleep on a field in the middle of nowhere, with so many other companions lying around him, still asleep. His main concern was whether they were alive or not, seeing as the first time there were casualties as well. "This is so not how the stories are told!" he spoke for himself, shaking off the strange feel of dizziness that had overcome him. He looked around and walked along the group of slumbering people, analizing their perimeter. On the horizon, a small village could be spotted. "So that is Silvond, eh? Doesn't look like much...I doubt we will find any relevant information about ancient scrolls written about gods here!" he spoke, sighting. At any rate, they had their quest cut out for them and they had to make haste, if they were to save their homeworld. Kassiel was riddled with doubts, as there were many unknown factors that could bring about their downfall and total failure. The relations between the seven races were always a bit shaby and with a war going on, they could expect a lot of stares from people who were not aware of the reason behind them travelling together. It was going to be hard, but then again, no one said it would be easy.


So Kassiel sat down, waiting for the others to wake up from their dreams. He hoped it would be sooner rather than later, as the cover of night was a good one to explore the village a bit and make a general strategy for what their next step would be. The night looked still young, but who knew how much the Morgow's spell affected their minds. Involuntarily, Kassiel's hand reached towards his back, trying to feel if there was any difference from before he had the Mark and after, but could not feel nothing. He thought about the new "increased strenghts" they were supposed to have and tried to figure out how to possibly use them to his advantage in the future. The one thing that annoyed him was that he could do naught but wait and see how the future unfolds.

​
 
Kvothe awoke to the sound of Kassiel talking. He slowly rose and sat cross-legged and dusted himself off, looking with a straight face at all the other Chosen ones around them. He still wasn't really sure how to feel about the matter and so took the easy way, which was no to. It was what he had been doing for the past many years to clamp down his emotions.


For fire mages generally they had a sort of internal body temperature, which was linked to their physical one. The more the fire was used, the more the inner fire cooled. The more fire you had, the hotter the internal temperature was. It is through training as a mage that you learn to keep this heat to control so you don't completely burn yourself, which is why as an element it is one of the most self-destructive. Now Kvothe knew his 'internal flame' as it was called was always hot, it rivalled even the top mages. He was simply unrefined in it.


What he felt now though disconcerted him. The internal flame he had right now was like the world was set alight. It was of an extremely ridiculous level he never imagined possible. Most people would instantly combust and take out a city from this. What was stopping him from this himself? Then he felt it.


His large winged Mark on his back was empowering him. Linked to his internal flame, it created such power without burning him and the area completely up. It gave him strength and control. He created a small fireball that rotated at a fast speed to test it, like he had before being taken to the First.


It was an easy process, but the gloves specially made for him had made it even easier, like it naturally flowed with extreme ease. The fireball itself was intensely hot like he had never felt before. He then tried something different.


He let the fire wrap around his glove created for him. With it he had something like a flaming hand or fist of intense heat. This opened up so many possibilities when it came to fights. He preferred hand to hand combat as it is, but this just made it to a new level. He would punch a super heated level of punch if he could.


Kvothe then let the heat dissipate into the air and let himself sit again, waiting for the others to wake.
 
Val woke up from the spell that was fasted upon him by Morgrow. It felt like he had just took a long nap and forgot what happened when he woke up. He saw that Kassiel and Kvo were up. They were a little shocked about what happened to, but he didn't want to bother them and cause a ruckus. It was a clear night and he could see the stars run for miles above his head. He read a lot of stories of the ancestors before they lost their wings of flying into the sky and could touch the stars. He knew these were all false but they still gave him a good feeling whenever he read them. They gave him the feeling he was a little kid again.


Val just looked in the stars but then looked at the town. Looks like a peaceful place, but they probably don't know anything. I should practice my sword again so I don't stiffen up after that sleep of some sort. Val flung his swords for a little bit until the rest of the group woke up.
 
The sounds of crickets and voices broke through the silence of sleep as Rusar started to wake. She opened her eyes blinking a few times to clear her vision to the sight of a stary sky. I'm outside...? She thought as she sat up feeling stiff and a bit dizzy. She rubbed her temples lightly easing away what was left of her headache. She looked around at her surroundings realizing she was in a field there were several others of the guardians awake. "Ok... so that wasn't a dream..." She thought to herself noticing a town not to far off from them a uman town if she remembered correctly. Should be an interesting welcome to a group of different races some of them not to favored on this side of the Veil due to the war.
 
Faeliel woke up from the sounds of a presence moving about. She slowly opened her eyes and look up to the sight of a starry night sky overhead. "Beautiful.." She muttered under her breath, and it really was. The sight of the stars glistening in its dark backdrop made them even more beautiful and bright. She sat up to find other people awake, others asleep. The word surprised couldn't even begin to describe the look on Fae's face as she saw races of every kind around her. Uman, Elves, Orcs, Ogre, Fae, Dwarves and even a Dragon! She has never seen all of the races together in one place, seeing as a war was ensuing.


She just sat there, not making a sound or squeek. She looked onto the dual hadhafangs that lay next to her. Maybe I should practice swinging these around.. The weight could be different to what I'm used to.. And the grip is obviously not what I am accustomed to.. she thought as she stood, up grabbed both her weapons and walked a few feet away so as not to harm anyone around her, and started swinging her hadhafangs, waiting for the others to awake from their slumber.
 
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