Fantasy (Closed) Retough IC

[Viper Actual]

"We must find shelter or a mount to flee, immediately! There will be no surviving this onslaught, the gods assure me."

Maldorn was still intently waiting for a response from the young woman that had quite literally bumped into him when a man wearing impractical religious robes managed to cause a whole bunch of halabaloo all on his lonesome. Surprised the old hermit raised an eyebrow and offered the scribe beside him a brief glance just as the panicked man of faith started to talk. Despite the man's emotional state Maldorn didn't feel very disheartened or afraid.

No, on the contrary, he was beginning to feel a tinge of excitement! Maldorn's expression softened a bit as the current situation was escalating well beyond anything he'd been through the recent twenty or so years. He looked to his companion who was deep in thought and recognized it as the struggle of a scholar that was being torn away from their work.

Ah, a true academic. They're hard to come by and even harder to keep alive when they feel a bit too inspired.

"Do either of you," Dal continued after a nearly imperceptible moment of hesitation, "have any means of defending yourselves if you are confronted by an assailant?"

Maldorn laughed out loud. It was the deep and hearty laughter of a warm old man, like that of a grandfather sitting at the tavern. He smiled and shook his head before nodding towards the scribe. "Fear not young miss, for even the finest cavalry on the continent will struggle to crack open this here skull."

As to really sell that statement Maldorn winked before turning towards the priest. Reaching into his leather satchel Maldorn produced a dirty and worn cape- most likely used to repel rain- and offered it to the man. "Here," Maldorn nodded and extended his hand further. "Take this- it'll serve you well in evading the enemy forces. As of right now you look like a big, golden target."

Maldorn grinned. "Very tempting to run down."

As he finished speaking Maldorn felt a sudden breeze upon his chest. It was in fact no breeze but the pendant worn around his neck. She was speaking.

Scribe. Scribe. Scribe.

Her voice echoed throughout his mind and the breeze faded, leaving a faint cold touch in its place. Maldorn's grin faded and he turned back towards the scribe. "If it's all the same to you I'd rather be in the company of someone in their best years." He shrugged. "My hearing and sight isn't what it once was- even if I'm a hardy bastard."

Mentioned: kaito9049 Solar Daddy

 

[0stinato]

With a hiss, Sohrab attempted a swing at the armoured adversaries, though it was clear a glancing blow wouldn’t make it through the layers of protection. He used his momentum to step back, letting Daniel’s shield take his place. Pressed against the wall, and shoulder-to-shoulder with the girl who smelled like sap, Sohrab slipped his other arm-blade out from the large pocket on his front, swiftly donning it and tightening the leather with his teeth. The soldiers were going to have the honour of being introduced to honed, hungry Grimm Mountains steel. Within a few seconds, he was back up with Danny, though the tight space would prevent his more drastic measures. Still, due to his height and preference for short blades, Sohrab didn’t need much space. His additional, invisible ally was experience: he had not only scuffled with a Ykrum soldier-scout while pillaging a Praetum-Ykrum battlefield at twilight a few months ago, but he had got very intimate with the armour both sides wore while extracting valuables from the corpses strewn there. And with both arm-blades on, all he had to do was aim a punch, and the blood would begin flowing.

So that is what Sohrab did.

The trunk of their body was protected by a scale-like pattern of plates, shimmering with the blood of others, and Sohrab’s piercing weapons wouldn’t be at optimal damage capability if he aimed there. No, the legs, it was always the legs. Knock ‘em down in the alley, create a blockade with their own men’s injured bodies, then flee in the mere second of headstart he would have. Using both Danny’s height and shield to his advantage, Sohrab ducked diagonally out of their eyeline, aiming for the soldiers’ legs. The front two wouldn’t have muscles left when Sohrab was done. Adrenaline saw his jaw clenched in a grin, and his enjoyment of that sizzling rush of strength only lent him speed.

He was undisciplined; he was experienced; he was unpolished. He was mad and stinking and feral.

Right fist swung round in a sharp arc, followed by the left, the blades slicing up the textile and leather protecting the front two soldiers legs until Sohrab’s arms were set in a cross position, at which point he pushed them out and around, giving the blades the blood-forging they were ravenous for as they bit into the thighs of the soldiers. The momentum brought him up again, but instead of running as had been his original plan, he found himself playing the reckless hand. His fists were both ready from his previous manoeuvre and, with all the grace of a cornered Amkaorian lynx, he swiped at anything he could reach on the two injured soldiers, the flurry speckling the walls with Ykrum blood until finally, as he lost the last of his breath, he skittered backwards, twisting his body beyond Danny’s large frame, and fled back a few metres, passing Winnie as he did, blades pointed downwards to prevent nicking a civilian. As he backed off, he took the skull mask out from under his cloak and put it on, then wiped the flat of his left blade over his lips, spreading the blood over his skin and beard as impromptu war-paint. A smidge more head protection never did anyone any harm... though it might be unwelcome if one of the mask’s horns poked someone in the eye.

‘Slowed ‘em down for ya,’ Sohrab yelled, his voice still breathless from the exertion, ‘now take your own advice big guy! See ‘em off and move!’

He had wanted to just sprint away, ducking and leaping between the fleeing civilians, but he wagered his odds were better allied with Daniel. The guy was tall, strong, and had a defensive manoeuvre he could stick with, all of which would benefit Sohrab’s fighting style and his survival. Still, he didn’t want to be too close: if Danny decided to stay and fight, Sohrab wanted enough distance that he’d have that headstart. As for the girl... well, if his estimation was correct, she and Daniel might stick together, given their discussion outside the alley. Whether he would rely on her in a martial moment would have to be decided after he saw proof of her abilities.

As it was, Sohrab paused his backing off, but kept his body ready to burst from its location if the Ykrum soldiers approached.

--
Interactions: Dragongal Aeris

 

[Solar Daddy]

Port Hemmis - Bay Market District, Northwest end of the city

Bishop Retten continuously looked over his shoulder at the smallest of sounds or the gentlest of winds. It was clear he wasn't experienced in such events personally, but even so he attempted to keep a level head. His two saviors seemed willing enough to help, and while he wasn't sure of their martial abilities, they must have been better than his own. Should they encounter any soldiers with the intent to harm, the Bishop would look to them for protection. They were all he had at the moment and it was far better than nothing at all. When offered the robe, Bishop Retten accepted it gratefully. "May the gods shine upon you," He commented in a stately manner as he threw on the cloak. While it didn't cover his almost royal robes entirely, it was far better than running around with the entirety of his garb visible. This decision alone would probably contribute heavily to Retten not losing his head if he were to survive this day.

"I've not wielded weapons against another before, but if there is no other choice, I'll do what I can. I'm not equipped with any myself though. I'll scavenge what I can from the bodies of any invaders we pass. I pray there are many." With a few indiscernible passages spoken under his breath, the Bishop motioned to the Northeast. "The closest stables I know of are that way, a few hundred meters down. If we hope to reach Castle Wicker before they close it off, mounts will be the only way to reach it in time. Though I know this city like the back of my hand, I implore one of you to lead. I fear becoming paralyzed at the sight of a charging cavalryman." Before they set off, the Bishop stopped each of his unlikely companions and gave a quick prayer complete with a handful of odd gestures. "May Teurana watch you." He said to each of them, one after the other.

Viper Actual kaito9049

Port Hemmis - City Square, Central City

Lera and Nyota made their way from alley to alley, passing by streets as little as possible to avoid the occasional passing of Ykrumic war parties. Lera led, trying to keep them from engaging more forces as much as possible. In their travels through the city to find the recluse bishop, they couldn't avoid skirmishes with a few foot soldiers, though they weren't nearly as well armored or skilled as the leader they fought together earlier that day. As Lera dwelled on it, she became increasingly convinced he was a higher rank than the others. The lamellar he wore was of a higher grade and was all around more plentiful than the rest of these soldiers they encountered. That's not to say the following fights were easy. Lera and Nyota had to use cunning and tricks to make their way as far as they did with as little hindrance as possible. Luckily it seemed the Ykrum soldiers were more focused on haphazard raids than an organized assault. While lucky for them, it played out as havoc for Port Hemmis' population. They seemed more focused on cutting down whoever they could rather than assault the castle head on. Lera was working with imperfect information, and she'd only get more of the picture when she had some distance from the conflict.

Lera was hoping to encounter more survivors in their travels. Every corner they turned, it was a scene of horror and pain. The longer this raid went on, the less resistance the invaders would find. Soldiers, outmatched by the enormous invading fleet, were cut down and their numbers dwindled. Civilians learned after a few encounters that it was either hide, run, or die. By now, the city had become much quieter than before. Screams were more dispersed and were replaced increasingly by the clattering of hoofs patrolling mostly captured territory in the city. How much time had passed? A half hour, maybe a bit longer? This was one of the fastest and effective assaults Lera had seen. Of course, they hadn't begun sieging Castle Wicker yet, so that must be where the difference is. They seemed more interested in spreading terror than taking the strategic points just yet. Were they that confident in their ability to take the keep?

"This way." Lera motioned to Nyota as once more the duo passed by slumps of dead bodies to take cover in the safety of buildings. As they progressed, the sound of clashing metal and war cries became clear. While she could admit it was a fool's hope to think it could be Bishop Retten, Lera had to take the chance anyway. "Come on, there's fighting up ahead!" Lera picked up her speed and the two weaved between smoldering houses and collapsed stone heaps that were once buildings. They found themselves on a wide street, one of the main roads in the city. The fighting was just meters away now, all it took was for them to scan the nearby passages.

Along with a handful of civilians that Lera had no choice but to let run past her in an attempt to search for Retten, a man sprinted out of the alley, with blades protruding from his wrists and a skull adorning his head. Lera instinctively raised her shield in a protective stance, sword arm held out to ensure if he planned to attack, he'd need to both find a way around her kite shield as well as the point of her blade. However, it was clear from a moment of acquisition that he was no soldier, nor did he seem keen on attacking Lera. Though she didn't lower her shield, she identified him as a friendly until he proved otherwise. She peeked down the alley to see what he was running from, and caught a glimpse of a man and woman still caught in the cramped space with Ykrumic foot soldiers harassing them. She wanted nothing more than to run in and help, but Lera figured her presence would only slow them down should they be attempting to escape such as the bladed man.

"Come to us!" Lera called out, with a wave of her sword behind her. She scanned both ends of the street to make sure no more soldiers were coming to stab her in the back as she awaited their arrival. They could all group together and fight off the attackers as a unit, on the street, rather than scrambling for life in the alleys.

Dragongal Aeris 0stinato

 

[queendilettante]

There wasn’t time for Hazm to be stunned at stumbling into Odette, the girl he took in years ago. A single frozen second and a flaming arrow shot past his head, slamming into an already damaged wall behind him. The tidal wave below continued to yank at him them, beckoning both into the bay. He continued to stare, albeit briefly. One more second, in case it was his last.

“We need to move, girl,” he finally shouted over the sound of the chaos in the crumbling city. Without waiting for her to leave him again, Hazm grabbed her forearm firmly and sprinted in the opposite direction of the water, dodging the supposed Ykrumian soldiers toward the city line.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

It was all a blur to Odette – the arrows filling first the air and then the streets, the flames, the screams. As Hazm dragged her through the city, she struggled still to get her wits about her.

Nothing made sense. The ships that appeared in the bay were identical to the ones she had dreamt of, the wave as well. Then why was it Hazm, of all people, tugging on her arm and shouting for her to move faster? The man is dangerous. A strange fear rose in her throat. Then why have the stars led me straight into his path?

The pair cut through alleys and dodged the panicked and dying around them, gradually leaving the water behind them, but it seemed the chaos had no end. No matter how fast she ran, Odette couldn’t shake an all two familiar dread that had been festering all along – had she misread her dream? It wouldn’t be the first time she got it wrong, that the Stars sent her a message only for her to recklessly discard it. The only one who might know better, she realized with a stifled sardonic laugh, was Hazm.

She pushed those thoughts down, now was hardly the time for them.

“Where the fuck are you taking me, skank?”

“Skank?” Hazm recoiled and stopped in his tracks, looking back to the girl he helped raise in the middle of the burning city, though his iron grip didn’t loosen. “I wasn’t aware the Stars had made a decree about sexual activity, sweet child. Is this a new insight of yours with which you intend to shame me?”

Odette took the opportunity to wrench her arm away from him, rubbing at the spot he had squeezed so firmly, but something kept her from fleeing. With the city burning around them, the prospect of being alone was a bit more terrifying than the killer that stood before her.

“That’s not the point.” She couldn’t help but roll her eyes at him, an old habit. “And you didn’t answer my question.”

Hazm couldn't help but chuckle at the intensity of the girl’s self-righteous indignation - a sight he had forgotten in the few years since she had disappeared. “How in-character to make a burning city the location of a tantrum, girl.” He shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. “On the off chance that you’ve been distracted by the voices, the city is collapsing. Need we have a fit about our direction at the moment?” It was common with Odette, in truth; now was as apt a time as ever to put her foot down. For the years they spent together, circumstances be damned, if Odette took offense, it needed to be heard immediately.

Hazm reached out for her arm in an attempt to reassert his lost hold of her. “We need to leave,” he scoffed. “I’m not exactly well acquainted with the area, if you believe it sweet dear-” he was cut off by another volley of arrows that nearly hit them. A cowering woman, spitting distance from the pair, wasn't so lucky. She whimpered once then faded as the arrows tore through her. Hazm sighed. “Shall we continue this debate once we’re no longer under imminent threat of death, girl?”

“And how do I know you’re not leading me towards worse?” Despite her protest, Odette moved to let him take hold of her arm once more. At least for now, her safest bet was with the devil she knew.

“If you deem survival worse than being trampled by foreign soldiers, do take care on the way back toward the bay, child,” Hazm shot back. He knew that he too had fallen immediately into his own forgotten bad habits. He was endlessly frustrated with the girl’s dramatics, but couldn’t help but try to keep her safe in spite of them. She left him for dead and he couldn't help but keep her safe in spite of that too. How droll.

Hazm yanked hard on Odette’s arm and continued to run through the fallen city, though they had hardly moved more than a few hundred more feet before stumbling upon a suspiciously large group of - at least mostly - non-Ykrumians in the street. “Shit,” Hazm cursed, hopefully not loud enough to be noticed by the group as he ducked into an alley with Odette. The buildings around the alley seemed, at least thus far, in a comparably better state than those closer to the bay, though with the state of things, it was anyone’s guess how long that’d last. “It appears this path is blocked by armed individuals, yet I do not find myself pining to return whence we ran here.”

Odette couldn’t quite tell what was going on in the street ahead of them, but the commotion of people looked fairly deadly.

“Shall we wait for them to sort it out amongst themselves?”

With a final glance at the group, Hazm retreated a few steps deeper into the alley. The undamaged slums around them felt like palace grounds in the midst of the chaos. “Yes, let’s give them a minute.”

 

[Aeris]

There were a lot of things Eilonwyn liked to do.

For instance. She liked talking to the trees when she was having a bad day, playing in the streams on warm summer afternoons. There were so many things she liked to do and not a whole lot she didn't like. Except now. Now, Winnie could add being cornered in an alley with two strangers- one of whom may or may not be part fish- by soldiers who she was positive did not want to sit and chat, to a list of things she did not like to do.

Eilonwyn raised the weapon higher above her head. She squeezed her eyes shut as the crowbar came down, clashing with a soldier. The impact had seemed to stun the soldier, though he quickly regained his bearings. Crowbar now clutched to her chest, Winnie retreated behind Danny until her back was pressed against the wall. She had tried and failed to be useful to the two men, but it was clear her weapon was offered for defense and nothing else. And with them being in the middle of the city, the young fey was at a disadvantage.

Winnie watched as Sohrab pulled a blade from his pockets before moving to stand next to Danny once again. She continued watching as he ducked below the shield to slice the soldiers legs. For a brief moment, Winnie wanted to get away from him- from all of them. People who could kill so easily should not be trusted. She didn't know who these two men were. Eilonwyn needed to run as far away from everyone as she could. She needed to run until her lungs burned and her legs felt as if they would fall off.

Except she didn't. Even after Sohrab retreated, Winnie remained firmly glued to the wall. It wasn't until she heard a woman's voice call out to them that she even took her eyes off the soldiers.

Run.

The urge had never been so strong before. Winnie didn't look behind her as she retreated, though she hoped the man with the shield had also heard the voice.

"I don't think we should stick around." Eilonwyn said the moment she approached the woman and her friend. Though everyone around her looked more than capable to fight, Winnie didn't want to take any chances. They needed to get somewhere safe and contemplate what to do next.

Solar Daddy 0stinato Pipsqueak Dragongal

 

[Dragongal]

Right fist swung round in a sharp arc, followed by the left, the blades slicing up the textile and leather protecting the front two soldiers legs until Sohrab’s arms were set in a cross position, at which point he pushed them out and around, giving the blades the blood-forging they were ravenous for as they bit into the thighs of the soldiers. The momentum brought him up again, but instead of running as had been his original plan, he found himself playing the reckless hand. His fists were both ready from his previous manoeuvre and, with all the grace of a cornered Amkaorian lynx, he swiped at anything he could reach on the two injured soldiers, the flurry speckling the walls with Ykrum blood until finally, as he lost the last of his breath, he skittered backwards, twisting his body beyond Danny’s large frame, and fled back a few metres, passing Winnie as he did, blades pointed downwards to prevent nicking a civilian.

The soldiers did indeed collapse as rivers of blood sprang from their legs thanks to Sohrab's attacks, however one of them did not go down without a fight. As he had turned to try to attack the feral man with arm blades already tearing through flesh, the soldier brought the pommel of his sword down on Sohrab's back just before his legs gave out under him and he fell to the grimy cobblestones knowing full well he'd never get up again. Sohrab would probably be able to hear the faint crack sound, sharper than a twig snapping but quieter than the crackle of a fire, as one of his ribs was fractured.

~

Reckless. How dare both Winne and Sohrab act the same way Daniel would. He could see the irony in the situation, of course, he's definitely annoyed more than one travelling companion with his absolute lack of self preservation. But these were other people! As frustrating as it was that Sohrab did not run but rather took swipes at the incoming enemies, Daniel could admit that he had a point. By collapsing those two soldiers in the street, the other incoming enemies were tripping over their screaming comrades. Still, he took a risk and from what Daniel could see, he didn't escape unscathed. He would credit Sohrab that it had been a calculated risk, surely, and Daniel could only hope it would pay off, but they would have to see... if they survived that long.

Winnie was frozen. Daniel could see out of the corner of his eye, she was frozen. Panic could do that to people, he knew all too well, but this was the worst moment. If he lowered his shield to carry her, they could both get killed if he didn't have a head start. Who knew if she'd even hear him if he told her to run? She was stuck there... so that would mean Danny just had to be stuck where he was, too. If he couldn't get her out by carrying her or yelling at her, he'd just have to stay there and hold off the soldiers as long as he could give her time to come back to reality. By the time he was about to try to call out to her, someone else had, and he breathed a sigh of relief that she listened. If he fell she might still be safe.

With Sohrab bobbing and weaving around him before running off and even Winnie - the one who clearly didn't deserve to be in this mess at all - taking a swipe at the enemies then hiding before disappearing, it was more like Danny was a wall than a person, just something for the others to duck behind between slash attacks before moving to cover while he held the line.

Truthfully, that was just fine by him. After all, walls don't move, because walls don't care.

The soldiers were stumbling over their crippled companions as one would stumble over an inconvenient (and screaming) log. He didn't know them, they didn't know him, they were following orders, but they didn't have to. That much Daniel knew. They didn't have to be covered in blood and attacking innocents as there was always another choice. Even if the other choice was death, they didn't have to be attacking innocents. So he didn't care. He'd have to take a line out of Sohrab's book and focus on using their numbers against them so brutality was out of the question. As the first approached, Danny slashed his axe in a wide horizontal swipe to force the incoming soldier back. This time the crack was audible to most people nearby as metal clashed and the force of the slash against the lamellar cracked multiple ribs, potentially the sternum. The hook at the bottom of the axe had even caught some of the armor, slowing his strike a bit. This, with the wide arc of the swing, of course left Daniel open for an attack but that was why he had the shield raised over his chest already, for protection! That and to bash it into the shattered chest of the soldier, effectively throwing the man back onto his ass and into the soldier following him, providing just enough time for Danny to turn to catch up to the others and their apparent new friends. No time to be showy or vengeful, just time to catch up with his allies.

Damn, he made for a good wall.

He barely noticed Sohrab had a helmet now - a bone one at that - and it just barely pulled at a memory. Something... neutral. Not good or bad, not yet anyway. Either way there was no time to ponder that now. He looked Winnie over. "That was a bold move, but good swing," he commented as he looked her over to make sure she wasn't hurt. She seemed more scared than anything, honestly, which was almost just as bad. Still, it meant she didn't need immediate healing and at this point that would have to be sufficient.

He looked Sohrab over quickly as well. He was standing, that was good. No coughing up blood from what Daniel could see, even better. The blood on his face wasn't his at least, though even Daniel would admit smearing someone else's blood on your face was... an interesting tactic. Not that he'd judge for that. Daniel said a quick, "You okay? Saw you take that hit," to the masked feral man he'd met moments ago.

To the new group, Daniel smiled and said, "Welcome to the party, glad you could make it," and with a glance at Lera, the one with the very official armor, "you got a plan?" Sure he had no reason to trust her, but he had no reason to not trust her either and in the situation they were in, he'd go on the assumption that this woman knew more than he did about this battle. After all, she was a proper soldier or knight... they were strategists, right?

As he scanned the members of the new group he saw a familiar face, and a familiar feathered friend. It took him a moment. Ginger... ginger and cooking oil and stitches, that was right, "Nyota!" Oh, she shouldn't be here.... He knew her, just a little, but she shouldn't be here, none of them should. Seeing her here just added to the stress to be honest... if she got hurt that would be absolutely unacceptable. Daniel actively tried not to think about it.

Not that that was easy as she began crying and threw her arms around him. He made sure to be careful of the axe so she didn't accidentally hurt herself as he returned the hug. This was an understandably overwhelming situation after all, she had a right to sob and panic. The only problem was that this wasn't a safe place for that. Processing those kind of emotions would take time they didn't have right now. "It's okay, you're doing great Ota. You've made it this far, now just stay behind me and we'll get you out of here. When we're safe I'll heal you and Nona if I can, but for now just hang on."

He let her pull away and step behind him as he had asked he adjusted his grip on his axe again. Tighter this time, more focused, no surprises and no slip-ups. "Stay behind me, okay?" Daniel turned to face toward the soldiers coming from the alley and brought up his shield and axe while calling over his shoulder, "Someone just tell me what the plan is and I'll follow it."

Spoiler: Nyota and Danny

Now how did we get here? The wooden floor beneath his head didn’t offer as much of an answer as it should. His question was answered, rather, by the sharp shattering of glass nearby. Right. Barfight. Daniel scrambled to his feet just in time to avoid a handle of liquor being thrown where his head was a moment before. He pivoted to face the man who was already grabbing another bottle, this one a particularly fine ale. “Okay okay, you can throw a bottle, ya’ve made your point. No need ta trash all the barkeep’s inventory.”
He ducked below the next bottle and popped right back up. “Fine. Then I’ll escort you out.”
Under a minute later, Daniel carried the unconscious man through the front door and laid him on a bench beside his friend, who was concerningly still unconscious. Daniel grumbled the words for the only healing spell he knew to heal the man just enough to make sure he wouldn’t have any severe brain or spine damage then headed inside to take his seat by the bar. The bartender gave him a rag for the blood seeping from the new cut above his right eyebrow, not that it’d do much to help the bruising along that whole side of his face. Danny smiled and thanked him, adding on a, “Another beer, please.”
~
The day was pleasant and completely out of place during such an ordeal. The sun beat down harshly on the weathered path, but the wind balanced the heat to a near perfect degree. A particular breeze tickled Nyota’s cheeks as Nona, her loyal Great Horned owl, rode the wind lazily above her. Their task had been completed- a heartfelt letter from a distressed lover to her other currently fighting bravely in the ongoing war. Nyota stayed uncharacteristically silent as the two made their way around, unable to rest after the horrors she had witnessed just yesterday. It wasn’t as though she was ignorant to what battlefields looked like, but she could never seem to stomach the sight.

A small chirp managed to slightly pull Priestly out of her thoughts. She glanced over to find Nona had settled herself on her typical perch on the shoulder.

“Problem?” Her voice sounded far away, but the usual snark came naturally. She wasn’t ready to be in the real world just yet. She needed time to work her thoughts out. Nona, of course, was not patient. Instead a longer chirp sounded, reminding Nyota that they had been headed towards the pub that sat just on the outskirts of a small town. Sure enough as she snapped her head up, the outline of the building could be seen in the distance.

With a small thanks to the universe the pair set their pace just a bit quicker, their stomach’s growling in anticipation. Unfortunately entering the bar was not as enthusiastic as their trek had been. Two men lay just outside, seemingly unconscious and completely covered in bruises and various other wounds. With no hesitation, Nyota stooped down to pat the closest one on the cheek.

“Sir? You can hear me? Are you dead?” She peered around at his face. It was rough, an older gentleman, but no response was given. A quick pulse check to the both of them relieved her nerves just a bit, but her step was still hesitant. If a fight was still going on, she certainly didn’t want to be in the middle of it. With a hurried dip of cooking oil on her index finger and an outline on the doorframe, Priestly took a small breath and stepped inside. As expected, the place was trashed- but more of a concern was the lone patron who had situated himself at the back of the pub, holding a rag delicately to his brow.

Nyota and Nona worked their way around flipped tables and smashed bottles, careful not to step her bare feet on a shard, and scurried up to the man.

“You did not start all this, no?”
~
That was a common question. Daniel looked up from his beer and turned to the girl behind him, flashing a soft smile. “Not exactly. More… finishing it. I rather decided that theft was… inappropriate and that those two outside needed to be reminded,” he laughed at his own nonchalance, “Don’t worry, I healed them a little, they’ll be fine eventually and I’ll deal with the broken glass and furniture.”
The girl in front of him was certainly… interesting. Daniel looked her over and paused. “You don’t look like someone who I’d.. expect to run into here, if I may say.”
~
“Mm.” Nyota hummed to herself and went to take a seat beside the large man, taking the liberty to grab one of the fallen chairs that were not already being used. She had assessed him as she walked in- He had no weapons that were visible, a bloody wound he was currently trying to tend to, and what smelled like a beer. She tapped her index finger on the table, ordering Nona to sit there while she worked.

“You seem like a person who I see quite frequently in bars.” Now, meeting his gaze, she returned the smile.

“I am glad you did not start the fighting. And to think I tried to pulse check them for life.” She clicked her tongue, disappointed, before reaching in her bag. Her fingers danced along the small med kit before finding what she was really after- the small vial of ginger root. The smell was strong, but she dumped one onto her hand and placed it on the man’s head before taking another and placing it on her own.

“You do not get to keep that.” She told him seriously before turning her attention to his wound.

“You call me Nyota, and she,” She pointed to the owl without even sparing the glance, “Is Nona, my owl. Erm…” Priestly placed a gentle hand on his own, drawing it away from his head before quickly fetching the thread and needle.

“You look very tough. It is only a pinch, so do not scream, yes?” It took just a quick minute to thread the needle, and she began her work.

“What do we call you?”
~
Honestly Daniel was initially distracted by the fact that the owl actually listened to the woman beside him. Maybe a mage's familiar? She certainly had a magical air about her, even the way she spoke was out of the usual. Similar to the owl, it was not at all unpleasant, but another oddity, like her equipment and apparent lack of shoes. Either way, that was a big bird sitting on the bar.
"I healed any major wounds they had," he assured her, though the fact she apparently thought it was a waste that she had pulse-checked them was a little concerning. They were thieves and bullies, which by his books didn't usually equate a death sentence, just a reality check. So clearly this girl was at least a little dangerous. Which was partly why when she put ginger root on his head he didn't question it. Besides, she seemed to think it would genuinely help him, and he was great at holding still, just smiling slightly the whole time. He wouldn't turn down generosity even if it was misguided.
The needle was a little more worrying. Yes he had been given stitches before. Many times, in fact. No, he did not like it. But she was already about to get started and he didn't even know her qualifications, so he might as well literally grin and bear it lest she decide to be less kind. He continued holding still and said with a hint of a laugh, "Daniel. I promise I won't scream ma'am."
~
Nyota nodded before sticking the needle through his skin unceremoniously. It wasn’t pretty work, but it would get the job done at least.

“You do not need to be so formal,” she snickered as the tip of the wound pulled together, “You call me Nyota. Or Ota. Many like to make the long names so small, they say it is easier? I do not mind either.” She hoped that was reassuring enough. “Ma’am” was reserved typically for women with a higher status in her mind. The word made her uneasy.

“Do you always fight in pubs? I have noticed your hands are quite rou-”

“‘Scuse me miss, are you plannin’ on buyin’ somethin’?” She turned at the sound of the gruff voice, unsurprised to see the bartender standing with an expectant look.

“I am.” There was a long pause.

“Right? Well… what’ll it be then?” Priestly turned her gaze to Nona, who was busy pecking the scratched surface of the table.

“You will find a list of the items in the pouch on her right leg. Do be gentle, she snips.” With an unsure hand, she watched him reach for the paper tied neatly with a little piece of rope. Nona did not seem to like the unexpected touch, and quickly turned to face the man.

“You are not good with birds I presume?” She was joking, of course, but he did not find it nearly as funny. With her free hand she retrieved the list herself and handed it over.

“Two of each item, if you would?” A grunt was the only reply she got before he returned to the back of the building.

“He is grumpy, yes? From the fighting that you did not cause,” Another stitch secured, “I do not blame him. Personally I do not wish to spend my days in a place such as this. Are you from here?”
~
Daniel was appreciative of the distraction. Yes he fought in bars a lot but that wasn't why his hands were so rough… mostly. The moment that he processed what the bartender said he tipped his head to tell the man to mind his manners, but was luckily stopped by the thread still in his skin. Nyota and Nona could take care of themselves and Nona seemed extremely willing to, from what Daniel could tell of the owl. Daniel hissed softly and settled back into place for her to continue her work.
"Well I don't imagine he's happy about the broken furniture and glass… which, you should probably be worried about, you don't have shoes. But no, I'm not from around here. Not from much of anyplace lately. Yourself?" He continues holding still, mulling something over before adding, "Your list you had… are you a supply runner?"
~
Priestly wiggled her toes and laughed.

“No no, I put the oil from the kitchens on the doorframe,” She pointed towards the entrance reassuringly, “It will protect us from harm. I shall make you a vial at the later.” The offer was given as her bright gaze traveled once again over his wounds.

“Forgive me. I do not mean to be rough, but the thread is not the best. Almost finished!” The second to last stitch was pulled tightly. Daniel’s voice was somehow calming, almost trance-like. Although, she was sure that at this point she could sleep through a raging battlefield. Pulling the last thread in, Nyota snipped the piece in half with her teeth and sat back to admire her work.

“Five stitches. That was not so bad, yes?” With that completed, she collected the ginger roots and medicine kit and put them back in her satchel before blowing out a relieved sigh.

“No, you have given me too much credit. My job is to deliver the messages sent from some to others. I travel all around the world! Some are envious, but I do not agree. War is not a sight to be envious of.” She fell silent then, shifting her position to look out across the trashed bar. The thoughts that had plagued her all night were suddenly at the forefront of her mind again, sounds of guns and sights of bloodied men and women mixed oddly with the smell of whisky and the image of toppled chairs and tables.

These memories had blanketed her attention, and it was once again Nona who brought her back to the present with a small headbutt to her arm.

“Oh! I do apologize. You had asked something before, yes?”
~
Danny could only hope that the oil was something to do with a spell, but he doubted it. Still, her confidence seemed complete, and often that was half the battle. He'd just make sure to try to steer her clear of the worst of the glass.
He brought a hand up to very tentatively trace over the new stitches. They were, to his surprise, very well done. And while yes it hurt, it wasn't the worst stitch job he'd had. "This is very well done, thank you, Nyota."
From what he could gather, she was a messenger. And one that had been at war at that. If it wasn't obvious from what she said, it was obvious from the look on her face, the vacancy as she looked past the wooden walls of the bar and at something far uglier. He'd seen too many people with that expression and hated to think that this sweet, if odd, girl was plagued too. But that was war.
He was glad Nona brought her back to the present so he didn't have to. He flashed her a reassuring smile and said, "Don't worry about it, I just asked where you were from."
~
“Yes, that was it! Apologies,” Nyota tipped her head guiltily before continuing, “I am from the big city of Keafield, of Launce? You have heard?” She side eyed him curiously. Most had been there themselves, but Daniel was a bit of a mystery. He did not seem so willing to talk about himself, and she felt bad that she had not ended the conversation there. Many people across the land were much like the man beside her, harboring thoughts and secrets that they weren’t particular on sharing. Or perhaps it was simply the post weariness of a fight.

Still, she couldn’t help herself. Daniel was interesting, and very nice. Truthfully, that was the biggest mystery about him so far. Unlike the people she ran into during her journeys, Daniel was nice. He did not beg her for anything, did not threaten her with knives, and did not even talk condescendingly to her once he had learned her job. He just seemed… curious. And that in itself was also curious.

“You are an odd man. That is the most wonderful thing from you, did you know?” Nyota wasn’t sure how to voice her approval of him, so she settled for that.

“This work little lady?” A loud thunk from a sack of assorted items hit the table, startling Nona who squawked in disapproval. Nyota broke her gaze from Danny back over to the grumpy bartender. Without a word, she silently slid the bag over, peered inside, and gave the man a nod.

“Yes sir, this “works”, as you say. Here, for you!” In exchange, she picked out a little bag of coins and handed it to him. He huffed- what she took as a “thank you”- and walked away.

“I put a small corn in there as well,” Priestly whispered over to Daniel, “to make him better. He is nice, just angry, yes?”
~
"Yes, I've been to Keafield, it's a nice place," Daniel said initially. He had traveled through most major cities and a lot of the minor ones too. He had planned on saying that the city had lovely people and etcetera, nothing untrue but everything maybe… painted in kinder colors. But then she said something else. He wasn’t expecting her to compliment him like that. It made him actually pause for a moment to process what she said, especially since he also jumped at the bartender putting the bag on the bar.
Danny decided that the best choice was to smile and say, quite honestly, “Thank you. I think you are a wonderfully odd woman as well.” His point was only reinforced when she confided in him that she had put corn in the payment to make the bartender feel better, especially after how he had treated her. Daniel nodded, “I think he’s nice. Just frustrated, you’re right.”
Speaking of gifts… this girl had been nothing but kind and generous since she had met him. He had best return the favor. “Here. You gave me stitches, let me give you something.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out what he had been working on before he had had to interrupt the thieves. It was a pendant carved from pale birch wood, depicting a lily flower. He hadn’t gotten the chain for it yet, he was going to so he could sell it in a market, but hopefully she wouldn’t mind. “A kindness for a kindness.”
~
Nyota beamed at him, wide eyed.

“You mean this? I can have your trinket?” She let him drop it into her hands, too scared to take it herself in fear of breaking it. Placing her elbows on the table she admired the delicate flower with almost obsessive interest.

“This is the wood made of britches, yes? I have seen the massive trees of this kind on my journeys! They are light and create the good living spaces for the little animals! What animals do you suppose once lived in this little flower?” With a closer look, the little notches where the knife had dipped and straightened out became much more apparent. Each knick, curve and intentional detail made her heart lighten.

“You are too kind! I very much appreciate this gift! I shall keep it safe at all times!” She went to place it in her bag, but took pause. It was too messy. Too many things to potentially harm the lily flower. Instead, she dropped it carefully in an empty pocket. There was an awkward silence then, embarrassment flushing her cheeks.

“I do not mean to be so childish. You see, nature is quite a hobby of mine. I learn many things from Nona, and I learn other things from the creatures I see on my travels. I read things in books as well, but those are not as fun.” Nyota clicked her tongue thoughtfully, then met Daniel’s gaze with an inquisitive stare.

“Am I correct to assume you are traveling today?”
~
Honestly Danny was just happy that Nyota liked the gift. It was a pendant without a chain, but she still enjoyed it. It rather reminded him why he picked up woodworking in the first place. “It’s windfallen birch, yeah. And don’t worry, you’re not being childish. It’s good to have things to get excited about. I’m sure Nona is a great teacher for you.”
He sits up straighter in his chair and nods. “Yeah, I’ll probably get back on the road today… I’ve taken all the bounties in this town already.”
~
“Bounties? For the despicable, yes? You kill them?” Once again her green eyes traveled to the scars on his hands. This was the first time in their short meeting that he had openly discussed something about himself. She leaned her elbow on the table, completely absorbed in this new addition. She wanted to ask him about his story and all the people who needed their due punishments. What warranted a bounty? How did he find the jobs? What was his scariest story? Before any interest could be discussed further, unfortunately, Nyota felt soft feathers brush against her skin.

Nona, who had fallen quiet after her scare, looked incredibly worn out. Her eyes drooped along with her body, and it became clear she was about to fall asleep.

“Oh my… Poor Nona…” Priestly’s voice was soft as she scooped the owl from the table into her arms.

“I suspect she is tired from our trek. I do admit, I kept her up all night. Nona has adopted my sleeping schedule, very unfortunate for an owl, yes?” She smiled sadly. It was too bad the conversation had to end here.

“I wish you all the best on your next journey Daniel. If we are to meet again, I shall make the kitchen oil vial for you! And I will keep your britch flower protected, so do not worry!” Gathering her belongings, Nyota got wearily up from her seat and nearly toppled over in the process. She was much more tired than she had originally thought.

“It is time I sleep too, I think. No more fighting in the bar, yes? You are surely to kill the bartender with a heart attack. Until next time!” Giving the bounty hunter a courteous nod, she slipped back between the broken glass carefully and made her way back outside. The sun was still blistering, but the grogginess clouding the pair’s minds seemed to protect them from even noticing. The inn was close, thankfully. For now, they would have to rest before their next journey.

 

[Pipsqueak]

Though Nyota had been content to let the Praetian woman lead her through body ridden streets at first, annoyance at Lera's brash attitude began to surface into the occasional aggressive comments of her own. Perhaps it was simply the stress from their current situation, or because her stubborn nature didn't let her be so easily commanded, but her tongue seemed to have a mind of its own for the duration of the journey. It started with a few hushed orders from the soldier woman as they wove through the back streets, then to the surpressed exasperation at Nyota's insistence that they stop to check the bodies they passed. In retrospect, it didn't make much sense to do so. It would slow them down, and most were probably dead anyways. Still, it was difficult to stop the habit of helpfulness in situations like this. The screams of fleeing townspeople dwindled, but the smell of blood and the terror that filled Nyota's whole body was a painful reminder of the past. Every sight brought images of lingering nightmares to the forefront of her mind, every smell reminding her of the many people she failed to save on her deliveries. It hadn't been her job to check on everybody, and it certainly wasn't now, but the resistance Lera was putting between her and the people made her angry.

It was Nona who kept the girl from spiraling into her own thoughts. The great horned owl cooed softly in her ear, brushing a comforting head against her cheek to insist she keep sight of what the real goal was. Every skirmish the trio ran into was quite helpful in its own way. Priestly was becoming more and more clever with her tactics, taking her mind off of the horror in her head and in reality for just a few moments. She came out of each fight with varying degrees of bruises and gashes, and if Nona hadn't been hurt before she certainly was now. Bald spots were speckled through the otherwise thick mass of feathers, some of them bleeding and staining Nona's soft plume. Tempted as Nyota was to tell Lera to just leave them behind, that perhaps they weren't necessarily the fastest of companions, the imagined sight of the Wicker made her rethink. They had to get there, for Nona's sake if anything.

"We are almost to your Wicker miss Lera, yes?" It was the first question she had asked in a while, but it was only met with a hushed whisper and the warning of another fight up ahead. Priestly felt the ache of tiredness, but awkwardly prepped her sword and shield once more in a readied stance. She couldn't make anything out through the smoke, but the sound of clinking weapons and grunts of pain were apparent. Then, to Nyota's horror, the Praetian woman shouted at the strangers to come their way.

"We are asking to fight now?" For just a moment she began to believe Lera might've lost her mind somewhere in the last alleyway, but with closer inspection the person she was yelling for was a young woman. The brunette girl rushed towards them, fear incredibly apparent in her eyes. Even from a distance Nyota could tell she was fey. She dropped the heavy armor immediately, laying a gentle hand on the girl as she stopped beside them. Nyota wanted to ask her name, but right behind her was another person, one she nearly mistook as an enemy. Covered from head to toe in sweat and blood, the most shocking thing about his appearance was his mask.

"Is the mysterious man a bother, miss?" Nyota's tone wasn't one of malice, but of curiosity. Lera and Nyota could both take him if need be.... maybe. But of course there was another person, one bigger than these two and seemingly more concerned about these two strangers than anything. As he flitted between his friends, Nyota thought for a moment he looked very familiar. It wasn't until he had decided whatever wounds sustained could be dealt with later, their eyes locked and she was finally able to put a name to the face.

"Daniel?" The man she had met nearly a year ago. Their interaction had been brief, but the sight of a familiar face in the otherwise swarm of the unknown hit like a ton of bricks. Tears stung in her eyes as she moved passed Lera and swung her arms around him.

"Though I would... say it is a... a pleasure to see you once more, the situation does not seem right." Nyota managed her words through hiccups of sobs. It was unbecoming, and really the two didn't know each other so well for this kind of thing, but in the moment she didn't know how else to greet him. Her emotions were a confusing mix of fear, relief, and concern for Danny and his new friends.

"I am... so very... apol- ap-..." It had been some time since Nyota had messed up the Praetian language, but in her state the word did not come to her. It was only when scuffles and angry shouts from the alley ahead sounded that Nyota gave up on thinking of the word. She backed up slightly behind Danny, ready to jump to the aid whenever was necessary.

"Lera has told of... of her Wicker. The h- hev... It is safe. We must go there." Danny wanted direction, and that was the best she could offer. Of the three strangers the fey girl seemed the most unprotected, and Nyota decided she would stick close to her.

Dragongal Aeris Solar Daddy

 

[Viper Actual]

"May the gods shine upon you..."

Maldorn bowed his head but remained silent. Fear not, for I need only one.

Before his thoughts began to drift the Bishop continued speaking. Fate and the divine powers that be had once again revealed the irony of life itself, leading a man so knowledgeable directly into Maldorn's arms. When the Bishop spoke of fighting Maldorn thought briefly of his own abilities- physical and otherwise- but felt content that he could at the very least save the young woman from any imminent danger.

Though I wouldn't be surprised if she was more than capable of handling herself, considering her apparent lineage.

After being so generously blessed by the Bishop the old hermit bowed once more before looking at the scribe next to him. "A quick adventure to Castle Wicker sounds like a wonderful idea, does it not?" Maldorn smiled and gestured with his staff. "Perhaps you will find more to write down into that book of yours?"

Chuckling, Maldorn reached into his satchel and produced an apple that was as golden as the sun itself. In fact, it looked strangely fresh considering the season of the year. Offering it to the scribe Maldorn nodded. "I just now realized that I never introduced myself. I'm Maldorn, though some call me Maldorn the Mystical, Maldorn the Loyal or just Mal."

He smiled. "Personally I never cared for all those titles- they do little good during amphibious invasions."

kaito9049

 

[0stinato]

•••
Prehlaami Constancy Ritual
You must set boars-wax candles all in a line, one after the other after the other after the other. The rich use thirty; the poor use three. On day one, you light the first for an hour. On day two, you light the first, and the second for an hour. On day three, you light the first, the second and the third for an hour. On day four...
•••​

‘Yeah, did get hit didn’t I, don’t worry, I don’t feel a thing,’ Sohrab spoke truth in two breaths: although he’d heard his body become injured with that thump and muffled crack, he couldn’t feel anything other than his extremities. The Ykrum blood he’d smeared over his lips was the only fluid moistening his mouth, and he couldn’t recall the last time he’d blinked. His limbs were the commanders of his entire form, and his eyes were the scouts. Whatever was broken was deep in his torso, but the potential pain was absorbed by the red-hot energy which invaded every crevice in his body and made his muscles twitch while stationary.
But stationary he didn’t stay for long. A woman – no, two women – shouted into the street. Sohrab spun, his body ignoring the pain and his brain trying to gauge the threat: neither were particularly tall, and while one was hooded, the other was dressed in the garb of a Port Hemmis fort guard.

And what, oh what, should an accosted man do when his countenance and facial décor is known to lawmen, bounty hunters and poster scribes of the very city he’s standing in? Castle guardswoman, armed for the invasion, and subject to the situation. Well, certainly not blindly attack, oh no, only a barbarian would do that, and Sohrab certainly wasn’t tall enough to be one of them.

But he was already running their way, and to be cornered in an alley between potential lawmen and invading soldiers was not a position he wanted to be in. She raised her shield; he slipped past. Defensive was a good sign. Reasonable people defended first.

‘I’m defending your stinkin’ city!’ he snarled to Lera, jabbing his left hand forward in an accusatory point at the guardswoman while swiping his right to the side, sending a light smattering of blood onto the street’s cobbles in a crude illustration of his pro-Praetum violence. ‘And I’ll keep it up!’ his face brightened immediately, the Ykrum blood now staining his front teeth. Then his features dropped into cold severity through the mask. ‘But I’ve no loyalty to Praetum. One move to arrest me and I’ll show you that. If I fight for the Port, I want a pardon!’

He backed away from her, needing space to stay alert, but all he saw was an intermingling of pleasantries and demonstrations of affection. Few were raising their weapons, turning to move or taking up a perceptive role. Sohrab began panting a second into noticing it, needing the constant bodily jolts from the breathing technique to maintain his adrenaline until finally--

"Lera has told of... of her Wicker. The h- hev... It is safe. We must go there."

‘Castle Wicker won’t just be our target,’ Sohrab growled. Where else would the enemy swarm but the city's cultural barricade? But there it was: a destination, a direction, a safehouse for the good citizens and a potential dungeon for him. Better than out here. Safety. And from the mouth of, supposedly, the guardswoman herself. Lera.

‘More of the bastards!’ he hissed, hearing the eventual arrival of the Ykrum forces from down the alley. No more standing around. He launched himself into an agile spin, flinging both blades out and slashing the air in a whirlwind of steel. He was unable to contain his energy at the guarantee of further fighting. Halfway through, finally that bite of pain from his fractured rib made itself known, flashing in his back and causing him to gasp as he landed. He bit the pain down, suppressed behind his tongue, his teeth, his throat, and got into position behind Lera; just as before with Danny, he would use her cover then spring forwards, giving his hungry metal knives what they wanted. He was invincible. Pain was for the living and men at war fought to find out whether they’d live to feel their pain or not.

--
Interactions: Dragongal Solar Daddy
Mentions: Pipsqueak Aeris

 

[Solar Daddy]

Port Hemmis - Bay Market District, Northwest end of the city

The Bishop, now assured in their ability to survive the coming onslaught, sets out with his two companions towards the nearest stables. A few hundred meters north didn't seem like a terrible trek, but this wasn't an ordinary day. The streets were patrolled by occasional bands of rider cavalry, swords equipped to cut down any they passed. It was a treacherous journey to make even for those well equipped, but even more so for someone as inexperienced in such events as a bishop. He was rather slow, his robes and... stately size made him slower than they would've been apt to travel at, but they made time as they could. Hiding from troops, avoiding collapsing buildings, stopping to give last rites to those unable to escape the massacre. Even as risky as it was, Bishop Retten would not let bodies lay in the streets, dead and dying, without the comfort of religion by their side. It nearly cost them their cover had it not been for Maldorn and Dahlia keeping vigilant watch as he performed his duties.

They reached the stables much later than originally thought, though it wasn't much of a problem. The stable doors were shut tight, barricaded and unscathed by fire or ruin. Even under heavy occupation, some buildings just happened to have luck on their side. However, despite the luck of a pristine destination, it seemed to be a hotspot for invading forces. It was quite clear what the building was, and therefore the heavily cavalry-oriented force wished to take such assets for themselves. Outside the building, a few tens of meters away, were six Ykrumic soldiers pulling away the rubble and manmade barricades set up to keep invaders out. Among them, a chiefly leader with heavy lamellar and intimidating red-drenched banners flanking his position. Whatever their use, it seemed they had been purposefully imbedded with blood. They stuck out of the ground on thin frames, waving lightly in the wind. Alongside them, two small pyres were situated beneath them. This leader was performing some kind of ceremony between the small site, which looked clearly religious in nature. The way she held up the severed arm of - presumably - a victim of the invasion, slowly and with extreme care, seemed to denote some level of spirituality or sacrificial offering. Unfortunately for them, this leader was practicing their craft only a few steps away from the handful of grunts working their way into the stables. The only thing working for them was the fact that no one seemed to be looking out for their surroundings; all were occupied with their specific task, either breaking in to the stables or delivering a bloody pact with the gods.

Bishop Retten, snugly hidden into the alcove of a small dilapidated shop, breathed in deeply. "Perhaps we can use a distraction, or maybe a surprise attack to turn this in our favor. Do you both think you can handle so many of them at once?" It was clear the Bishop had worry for their well being. Little good would it do to have his only protectors get themselves killed in a vain attempt to enter the stables. They would have to perform at their best, or find some way to sneak past so many soldiers at once. Just off to the left, across the street and bordering the edge of the building of interest, lay a cellar door equipped with big pillars to load and unload hay and other materials without letting open the large main doors to the building. If they could just find a way to make it there without being spotted, they might not even need to fight at all. However, it seemed a far cry to think it could work, crossing an empty street in front of so many.

Viper Actual , kaito9049

Port Hemmis - City Square, Central City

Lera was beginning to get overwhelmed with the amount of people being flung at her, and none of them enemy combatants. No, they all seemed to be different levels of competent in martial ability, ranging from completely harmless to experienced warfighter. Lera felt confident in her ability to dispatch any one by herself, assuming no one was hiding hidden talents; after all, she had no idea if this invasion was a full, front assault, or maybe there were conspirators within the walls of Port Hemmis looking to bring about its doom. So many different civilian fighters, and yet still the invaders were battering them with only a fraction of their unit. Once everyone had mostly banded together, Lera examined their surroundings. She seemed to be the only officially backed patron of this makeshift gaggle of fighters, not seeing any colors or banners directly tied to warlords or the Primarchy itself. Not great, but it also meant they all were probably willing to follow her orders.

Then the skull man yelled at Lera, to which she nearly readied her stance against him. The hell was he trying to do? Who the hell did he think he w - oh. The skull finally made its way into a connection in her mind. The crypt robber, a known fiend around these parts and probably abroad. Still, she needed every damn fighter she could get on her side. She would happily lie and offer a pardon to get another sword swinging at her enemies. She wasn't able to give pardons, so it was no guarantee, but she could put in a good word for him, if they both survived. "Calm down, convict. Help me win this day and you'll find yourself on the right side of the law again." Seeing Sohrab not immediately flee or attack her, she assumed they had come to an understanding. "We move to Castle Wicker when my primary objective is complete. We must find the Bishop before he is captured or killed. I don't care your allegiances in regards to faith; he is a prime target of this invasion and we must deny them every advantage we can. I will need all of you to return him safely, I'm sure of it." Lera did not care if her objective reached to the others; she provided their ticket into the fort without question, and they had the best chance of survival alongside a trained veteran such as herself.

A battle cry form the alley they had all arrived from sent Lera into a new form of thinking. "Shields front, weapons mid, civilians behind!" Lera called when she saw the surge of soldiers rushing towards them from the alley. her call was decisive and swift, bringing the kite shield up alongside Daniel to block an easy escape from the confined place the Ykrum foot soldiers resided in. Despite the push of their bodies colliding with their shields, Lera and Danny held, using the protection to stop blows from connecting with their precious flesh. She had no idea if the others had followed her orders, but she needed someone like Sohrab or Nyota to begin prodding at the enemy over her shoulder. All of her might was currently being put into stopping their advance, and swinging a sword in addition to that would mean failure to contain the threat. The war cries coming from the other side of her shield would've frightened Lera had she not been accustomed to the angered roars of engaging forces before. She just hoped the others didn't lose their zeal at the intimidating forces before them.

Dragongal , Aeris , 0stinato , Pipsqueak

 

[kaito9049]

Dal wrinkled her nose at the man's — Maldorn's — gift, the fruit practically glistening in the sunlight. It was an odd present, and though Dal wasn't hungry it seemed rude to refuse. Still, she took a moment to glance at her notes before accepting the apple and tucking it into one of the many pockets hidden in her robes.

"Maldorn," Dal repeated. "Pleased to meet you. And that's spelled M-A-L-D-O-R-N? Any surname?"

Likely not one that he's likely to share, if he possesses a title, she thought. She didn't recognize the moniker. Self-given, or assigned? Warrants further investigation, if circumstances permit. Tertiary priority, at most.

The distant sound of a war cry interrupted her line of questioning. She wished she had one of her assistants with her to count the minutes. How long had the invaders been on the assault? In any case, it would be unwise to dally now that they had their course.

"Forgive me," Dal said to her companions with a warm smile she'd spent countless hours in front of a mirror refining. "I am Dahlia Verne, scribe. Supposing we survive this, I'd be honored to hear more of yourselves, if you would not object. Particularly you, Holiness. The words of a man of faith would be of great comfort in such a difficult time."

"But there I go again," she added quickly, looking down as if she felt abashed by her eagerness. "Shall we be on our way? I would like very much to avoid being another tally mark in the death toll."

Rough estimate likely unavailable for days or weeks, depending on length and success of invasion, a voice at the back of her mind told her, as if dictating a letter that had already been written. Mass graves and/or destruction of human remains not uncommon and could complicate casualty counts.

Despite her earlier reluctance to go with the men, once they had their heading Dal couldn't help but feel a bit impatient at their slow progress. But she kept silent while the priest they escorted prayed for the casualties, pressing herself against the alley wall as she stood sentry with Maldorn. She peaked over every corner, half-expecting to see a band of Ykrumic soldiers charging at them.

The deep sighs she let out every half minute were the only external sign of her restlessness. Who was she to deny a man of the cloth his duty, Dal thought as she — with a pang of guilt — looked away from the face of an older woman on the ground with a deep slash along her back stretching from her hip to her shoulder.

Invader calvary likely using slashing weapons. More commonly seen on open battlefields but acceptable in an urban environment, especially when opponents are...have few defenses.

As the robed man gave his rites to the fallen, Dahlia found herself murmuring a prayer to the Moon. She wasn't any more religious than the average Ykrumic researcher, who often attended chapel services less often than their countrymen. But scribes, especially of Dal's ilk, were sometimes a strange group. They rolled their eyes at their culture's own superstitions but practically trampled each other in their rush to record folk tales from other nations. And the more veteran among the academics, who'd been close enough to war to know the best way to wash blood from their boots — most of them knew a few more liturgies than they'd like to admit.

So Dal said nothing until her group reached neared the stables. What she saw brought back the nausea she'd felt at the invasion's start, though she managed to keep it down enough to jot down a quick description of the bloody scene. How could her own army commit such an atrocity? She'd need to send this report back to her advisor as soon as possible. Perhaps her department could recommend a full-fledged investigation, or—

Later, Dal reminded herself. First she had to get herself and her companions clear of danger. She unclasped her staff from her back and tucked her notebook into her pouch, feeling the familiar texture of the wood against her palms. A small, but present, part of her wanted to put an icicle through each of the invaders' temples. But even if she had the combat experience to dispatch their foes with such efficiency, the thought of adding yet another set of bodies to the count made her discard the thought immediately.

"I have some magical ability," she whispered lowly. "Specializing in Frost magic. Perhaps we could try to sneak past, and if that fails" — Dal tried not to glance at the priest — "I could immobilize the group long enough for the two of you to run past.

"I confess," she added after a moment, her voice shaking slightly. "it has been some time since I have resorted to combat while in the field. If either of you has any ideas to avoid that course of action, I would be happy to pursue it."

 

[Viper Actual]

"Maldorn," Dal repeated. "Pleased to meet you. And that's spelled M-A-L-D-O-R-N? Any surname?"

Nodding, Maldorn smiled. "Correct! And no, I hold no surname for I swear allegiance to my goddess and her alone. In fact, I don't even remember my own family name."

"Though all of that is perhaps a story for another time," finished Maldorn, winking.

As the scribe introduced herself Maldorn bowed his head. "A pleasure to meet you Dahlia. You hold a good name- a strong name."
He gestured with his staff. "I once knew a Dahlia a very, very long time ago."

The hermit looked puzzled and deep in thought before he continued. "In fact, I don't remember if we were friends or if she tried to kill me." Maldorn shrugged. "I suppose that is the cost of a long life."

When it was time to move Maldorn made sure to keep even spacing between himself, Retten and Dahlia. The bishop's efforts to prepare the casualties of war for the final rest was admirable but risky and while he personally would have preferred to stay on the move Maldorn did not have the heart to stop a man of faith from carrying out his duties.

Once the trio had reached the stables Maldorn visibly frowned upon witnessing the scene: Few things in the world were as vile as necromancy and other assorted death magic but blood sacrifice, sorcery and related spells came awfully close.

Has the world truly fallen this low? There was a time when acts such as this would have called for entire armies to cleanse and purify those responsible. Are we truly that desperate to seek out powers that we cannot control?

Maldorm shook his head lightly and used his free hand to reach for the pendant around his neck. Even when concealed by layers of cloth Maldorn could feel the tinge of warmth beneath.

There was something else as well. A faint rumbling. As his fingertips caressed the smooth surface of the pendant Maldorn heard her, whispering.

Heresy. Heresy. Heresy.

Glancing towards Dahlia and Retten, Maldorn knew what he would have to do. Pillaging soldiers be damned this blood ritual is an affront to life itself. I must stop it- one way or the other.

"I may be able to distract the soldiers themselves, though it would be in our best interest to stop the ritual as well- lest we want to find ourselves fighting more than just light cavalry."

Solar Daddy kaito9049

 

[Aeris]

Three things seemed to happen at the same time.

One, Winnie heard the armored woman refer to Sohrab as a convict.

Two, Instead of insisting they leave, the woman ordered the group of strangers toward the castle.

And three, since they had been talking instead of running, the soldiers from the alley were currently charging toward them.

"Why are we running towards a fight!" She shouted at Lera over the chaos. Sure, the majority of them seemed equipped to be fighting, but that did not mean it was what they should be doing. They all needed to get somewhere safe where she could properly look them over for wounds- she'd be very surprised if anyone wasn't nursing some kind of injury right now. "You can't fight injured! And you can't save someone if you're dead." She continued, repeating what Danny had said to her when they met.

Besides the obvious, Winnie was now apprehensive about tagging along with this group at all. She risked a glance at Sohrab- who she just now realized was wearing a skull- before sweeping her gaze across the others. If there was one supposed criminal here, who's to say the others weren't either. She could risk everything right now to run as fast as her legs would carry her. Her body was significantly weaker being in the middle of a city, she needed to get back to the woods and think over her choices.

Realistically, however, Eilonwyn knew she wouldn't survive five seconds on her own. As much as she hated admitting it, she needed the protection this group provided. Winnie looked over the group once more, deciding if she were to trust anyone right now, it would be Danny and the other young woman, who had an owl friend. The two also appeared to know each other, which eased Winnie's worries ever so slightly.

"Shields front, weapons mid, civilians behind!"

Realizing she might be the only civilian in the lot, Winnie chose to stick close to Nyota.

"If we must fight, I have the supplies to heal all of you." It was a rule that the fey never tell lies. Unlucky for this group, Eilonwyn didn't believe in following rules. She did not have the supplies, if anything, she had a handful of balms and medicines left at most. Should someone get severely injured, Winnie wasn't sure she'd be able to do anything.

But no one had to know that. Once they got out of this mess, Winnie would tend to those who needed her and would be on her way.

Dragongal Solar Daddy Pipsqueak 0stinato

 

[Solar Daddy]

Port Hemmis - Bay Market District, Northwest end of the city

"I confess," she added after a moment, her voice shaking slightly. "it has been some time since I have resorted to combat while in the field. If either of you has any ideas to avoid that course of action, I would be happy to pursue it."

The Bishop was hoping to hear better confidence from one of his defenders, but he was in no place to hold it against Dahlia. No one had expected a fight this day, and Retten sure had no intention of holding a fight against others. "No worries child, we'll find a way past them one way or another. We're not terribly well outfitted for an engagement, but I trust you both with my life no matter what course we take."

"I may be able to distract the soldiers themselves, though it would be in our best interest to stop the ritual as well- lest we want to find ourselves fighting more than just light cavalry."

Retten looked at Maldorn in a puzzled way. Ritual? The Bishop turned to peek out from their spot, this time leaning further to take in the view of the lamellar-clad warrior holding up the severed arm. The Bishop balled his fists. What work was this? Savages, defiling victims for their savage religious practices? What kind of soldiers were these? "Great Raue, cast these heathens back into the sea." Retten looked back, noticing a similar expression of disdain on Maldorn's face. It seemed he was just as offended by the religious sacrilege being performed just a few meters away. "We cannot allow this to continue. In the name of the gods, I revoke these soldier's rites and cast their souls to the world of the damned once their due justice comes for them. Not one warrior of their ranks will see the light of the Higher gods. By my mantle, I swear it." Retten spoke partially in a chant, somewhere stuck between personal insult and delivering divine justice.

"Let us end this disgrace before they bring about the wrath of the gods. I fear you may need to dust off your magic, Historian. As a member of the Higher Order, I cannot in good faith allow this ritual to continue. Ready yourselves. I will do what I can to support you with incantations and blessings."

kaito9049 , Viper Actual

 

[kaito9049]

Dal glanced at Maldorn, hesitating. Just moments earlier she'd been fighting the urge to charge the invaders, but the vitriol in the holy man's voice gave her pause. This was shaky territory for a scribe. Defending herself was one thing; eliminating a group, however hostile, on the orders of a foreign leader was another.

And then there was the other issue, the hollow feeling in Dal's gut that gnawed at her like a long-unaddressed hunger. She readjusted her grip on her staff, wiping her palms on her cloak.

Subject exhibiting signs of intense anxiety, similar to reported symptoms of pre-skirmish nerves among Ykrumic infantry. Dal's own voice droned in the back of her head unbidden, as if describing the weather. Potential causes include warzone stress, exposure to battle shock, and poor quality of the morning meal.

"Shut up," Dal snapped under her breath, shaking her head sharply to interrupt herself. No, despite the pounding of her heart in her chest, they had to keep moving. If that meant knocking over some pathetic wastes of life, then so be it.

"I can move first," she volunteered to Mal. "Perhaps I can catch them off-guard, make them easier targets for you." She gave the two men a wide smile — an expression, she realized immediately, probably looked disturbing considering the circumstances. But it was all she could think to do to keep the nervousness from showing.

With a deep sigh, Dahlia prepared to round the corner, feeling a familiar chill rush across her chest, up her arm, and along her fingers. Casting frost magic felt like all the warmth in her body was being drawn out, leaving her a chilly husk. Indeed, as the mana within her coalesced, her digits took on a bluish shade, and the thinnest layer of ice crystals began to spread along the back of her hand. Dal inhaled, feeling the power of her yet-uncast spell rage within her like a blizzard, the twisted wood of her staff pulsating with an azure glow. Acting more on instinct than conscious memory, she turned her left hand away from herself, ring finger pointed inward, as she whispered the incantation under her breath, now visible in the air. It almost hurt to hold in the spell, as if she'd gone too long without inhaling. Accursed magic. What would she do without it?

Then, with a start, Dahlia pushed herself from her crouch and stepped into the road, in full view of the invaders. Now that she was closer to them, something seemed ... wrong about them. Strangely unfamiliar. And it wasn't simply the fact that their leader was waving around a dismembered limb.

But there was no time to process the thought, as one of the soldiers noticed her approach and whirled around, surprise momentarily keeping a cry from reaching his lips. Unfortunate.

The chill in her veins causing her arms to ache with the movement, Dahlia swept her staff in a low horizontal swing toward the group. Immediately, a curved line of jagged icicles sprouted from the ground, encasing four of the soldiers' feet in ice. One of those four fared even worse, a scream forced from his throat as the wickedly sharp points of the icicles dug into his leg. The others shouted in alarm, a couple of them thinking quickly enough to draw their weapons and begin hacking at the ice.

Dal winced, then cursed herself and resumed a defensive stance as she prepared another burst of mana from within her. She was clearly out of practice. A more capable magician would have been able to immobilize all six of her enemies. And the energy of her attack had run out before the line could reach the group's leader.

Hopefully, her companion could make up for her shortcomings. Or else the priest would be giving a couple more final rites before the day was up.

 

[Viper Actual]

"We cannot allow this to continue. In the name of the gods, I revoke these soldier's rites and cast their souls to the world of the damned once their due justice comes for them. Not one warrior of their ranks will see the light of the Higher gods. By my mantle, I swear it."

Maldorn blinked slowly but remained fairly neutral in his expression before speaking; "Their souls are not for us to judge, nor do we know what has prompted a ritual such as this. As servants of life however we are bound to stop the sinister ritual itself- for such a duty has been bestowed upon all living beings that walk the earth with fair intent."

As Dahlia spoke up the hermit turned towards her.

"I can move first," she volunteered to Mal. "Perhaps I can catch them off-guard, make them easier targets for you."

Nodding, Maldorn smiled briefly. "Fear not child, for I will be right behind you." He cracked his neck and tightened the grip around his staff before following the scribe out onto the street.

With Dahlia engaging the enemy head-on Maldorn walked out into the open in a stroll-like fashion as opposed to rushing into combat. Once his companion had delivered a first strike Maldorn gently waved his free hand next to his staff while humming lowly to himself. Unknown to everyone present Dahlia was now encased in a light barrier that would shield her from one or two physical strikes. Aside from empowering Dahlia's defenses Maldorn also attempted to lend some of his own power, hoping that the scribe would be able to cast additional spells within a shorter amount of time.

A faint vibration from his pendant made Maldorn break his focus and instinctively take a step back. Two Ykrumic scouts- soldiers that had been loitering nearby- rounded a corner and upon spotting Maldorn the two soldiers charged at him. The first one let out a hearty war-cry as he raised a shortsword. Side-stepping to the right Maldorn delivered a series of quick blows using his staff before the scout could even react.

Two strikes to the back made the scout fumble and trip as he attempted to re-acquire his target only to get a jab into the side of his knee, dislocating the entire joint. Crying out in pain the scout collapsed onto the ground with his friend nervously attempting to repeat a near-identical maneuver.

Out of nowhere a piece of rubble struck the man on his thigh which was followed by an actual brick flying right at the soldier, knocking the air out of him as it impacted him dead-center. With both combatants out of order Maldorn re-oriented himself and turned to face the leader of the enemy combatants.

He slammed the butt of his staff into cobblestone street and felt his pendant grow increasingly warmer. At the same time both of his eyes seemed to glow with a faint golden tint.
"[Enough!]" Yelled Maldorn, now speaking Dhosi. "[Cease this madness at once!]"

kaito9049 Solar Daddy

 

[Solar Daddy]

As the sounds of the Ykrum soldiers grew closer from the alley, Nyota couldn’t seem to get her mind working. It was different having to worry only about herself and Nona, but with a whole group of people she wasn’t sure how to play it out. Three of them were fighters- Danny, Lera and the masked man. That should be enough, right?

Peering around Danny’s large frame, the two alleyway soldiers were now locked onto the five of them, shields and swords at the ready. Holding her breath, Nyota lightly took the fey girl by the arm and backed her up. They’d win- They had to. With the tense atmosphere becoming increasingly thick, Nona had broken out of her curiosity of the fey woman and turned to glare at the soldiers as well, as if waiting for a perfect moment to attack.

“Nona, do not.” With how awkward everyone’s position was, Nona could easily get herself hurt. The others could handle this. That’s what she thought, at least, before finally the crack of metal against metal split the silence, weary breaths drawn out as they all fought for power.

“Neither can make a move…” Nyota whispered in horror to the fey. Seconds ticked by and still nobody was able to swing their swords around without dropping defense. It certainly was only a matter of time before their side would be broken. She knew Danny was right, that now was not the moment for emotion, but panic filled her chest and froze her to the spot. Was this really how she would die? And with an undelivered message at that? Oh if only she had the kitchen oil…

Danny and Lera were locked in an absolute stalemate. The alley meant that the soldiers couldn't move left or right, but they wouldn't retreat lest they be cut down and unfortunately Danny and Lera were in a similar spot. If they eased up, the soldiers could push past and potentially harm someone. And with the men's shields being rather large as well, it wasn't like Danny or Lera could just hit them in the head. They would need a third party to intervene in the stalemate.

Daniel looked over his shoulder to survey their companions. Sohrab's weapons seemed relatively short ranged, so not ideal, and the rest were varying levels of unarmed. Then he spotted Nyota's sword. That was the worst thing, he thought, that it had to be Nyota. He didn't want to ask her to kill, but it would have to be her or Sohrab and Sohrab's reach was limited with his weapons. It would be too complicated for someone to get the greataxe off of Daniel's back too, at least until their enemy was preoccupied.

Danny continued to lean his weight into the shields even as he called out,
"Nyota! Hit them! You have the sword! You can reach them!"

Lera, being the smallest of the shieldbearers by far, had to use every ounce of her weight to keep from getting toppled. Luckily Danny was there to help even out the force, but still, Lera was alone in her endeavor to keep the right flank from falling. Danny seemed to be holding well enough on the left. Eventually Lera called out alongside Danny to Nyota. “Aim right between the shields, try to land hits at the neck, go under the lamellar coif!”

Then, Lera shouted out her next orders. “Criminal!” She said, then was forced to brace for a bash from the Ykrimic warband. “I need the same from you. Grab my sword if you need the reach, jab at them!”

A restrained situation was never welcomed by Sohrab. Without the space to break into a run, he felt the dark core of frustration begin to surface within him. This was an invasion, which had devolved from trading blows in city streets to a blockage at the mouth of an alley. But the soldier was right, and he needed the reach. Not saying a word about her address of him - he had essentially declared himself below the law's keen eye already, so whatever the effect of her words, she wasn't going to damage his less-than-pristine image - Sohrab grunted an agreement and took the sword Lera wasn't using in her current defensive stance. He slipped off his left arm-blade, dropping it to the cobbles for now, deciding it would probably injure Daniel or Lera if he kept it on. He aimed the sword as she indicated. Find the place to pierce. Unfortunately, soldiers in this stance were not as easy to flip over as a panicked tortoise on the Ykrum sands, so he would have to be precise.

Precise and unforgiving.

He held Lera's sword in a reversed position, aiming it between the shields of Daniel and Lera, then shoved his right hand against the pommel, driving the blade forwards in a vicious jab. Feeling the metal bite, he pushed further, stable in his position, holding his trunk steady to avoid the hiss of pain from his rib. But his rib made itself known as he pulled the blade back, repositioning and preparing for another fast stab. He craved the vision of blood: if he saw it, it meant he was winning.

Lera tried her best to keep the soldiers at bay alongside Daniel, but her stature was making it a losing battle. Had it not been for Sohrab coming up and assisting in the phalanx, she was sure to have been knocked to the ground by now. The criminal’s jabs kept the Ykrumic scout reticent from pushing too hard, lest the blade guide itself into his throat by his own actions.

Danny noticed Lea beginning to struggle under the pressure. To be fair to her, these enemies were pushing hard. At the approach of Sohrab, Danny shifted his balance slightly to make sure Sohrab had space to stab the enemies without injuring allies.

Nyota’s hands tightened into fists as both Daniel and Lera barked orders at her. She watched the little masked man defiantly, his laser focused killing making her nauseous. Just briefly she debated running. Go find Mr. Tebbit, give him his stupid letter and get out. But no, she wouldn’t leave Danny like that. With a huff she ordered Nona to get her stolen sword. Both struggled to hold it comfortably, and through tears she made her way behind Danny, peaking out at the enemy soldiers. She’d never been so unsure about something in her life, and the feeling hurt. Give up her morals or leave her friends to die? Wouldn’t both be damning? She’d feel guilty either way.

The pointed edge of the sword bared threateningly at one of the soldiers necks. The thin break in their armor was occasionally blocked by their shields as the power struggle continued. It was all about timing and strength.

“Mother nature, do forgive me for this spilled blood. It is for the greater good, yes?” Her whispered plea was broken with hitched sobs, the sword wavering terribly. How was she to hit him with no precision?

“I cannot do this!” Nyota looked desperately to the masked man for help, but he was still busy with Lera’s soldiers. She looked to Lera, who’s weight seemed to finally be lifting as her side was thinned out. Danny, on the other hand, was still struggling, barely able to inch away to give the masked man room. The desperation in his eyes was enough to drive Nyota to do what she thought to be the impossible.

The feeling of the blade cutting cleanly into the soldier’s skin was sickening.

“I am very sorry!” She shouted at the man, who was already lying crumpled on the ground. Nyota bit back anguished cries as each jab was delivered. This went against everything she was supposed to be known for. Is this what her father had done? Would her parents be appalled to know she had just become a killer? Each thought was put swiftly out of her mind as the sight of blood covered her vision. She’d not be forgiven for this.

 

[Aeris]

She was useless. Completely useless.

There was absolutely nothing the young fey could do except stand there and watch the tense stand-off ensue. Her body was weak and she was so, so exhausted, and the sooner they finished whatever they needed the better. With how things were going, however, Eilonwyn feared she'd collapse before they even reached the castle.

Winnie listened as orders were barked, none of which were being directed at her. Though she knew there was nothing she could do to help the situation, as she only had a crowbar, Winnie still felt her cheeks redden in frustration. She wanted to help, she really did. But what could she possibly do with a crowbar?

Then it hit her. While Sohrab and Nyota were trying their best to take out the enemies, Winnie crouched down. She used the crowbar to swipe at the enemy's legs. Though she wasn't strong enough to knock them off their feet, she hoped she was providing enough of a distraction for the others to attack. As far as she could tell, the idea appeared to be working.

"Mother Nature will forgive you, love!" Winnie momentarily looked up to Nyota, "She would not wish to see us injured. All life will eventually go back to her, we are simply speeding the process up." The words were, perhaps more blunt than comforting, but now wasn't the time to be specific.

 

[Solar Daddy]

As his defenders sallied out to engage the enemy, Bishop Retten pressed himself firmly against the residence and began chanting Thulidean speech quietly. As he spoke, the Bishop's fingers glistened with a vibrant light, and soon the holy man was waving his hands in various, seemingly random movements. One would think of him as a madman had his motions not conjured up such a light, one which blinded Retten for the duration of his casting. He'd be here, hoping to remain hidden, in order to assist his comrades. Neither of his companions would know or feel what the Bishop was giving them, but it was boon of unknown importance. Important enough, in the Bishop's eyes, to be worth potentially being discovered for.

The first of the soldiers to break free from Dahlia's ice storm decided to help free one of his closest comrades, and soon the two of them together charged at the magic-wielding sorceress. Meanwhile, the leader barked ordered in a strange language as she attempted to free the others. It even seemed as though she was screaming at the two eager scouts to return to formation, their fervor drowning out her harsh tone. With scimitars raised above their heads, it was clear the two warriors were simply hoping Dahlia didn't have enough time to cast another spell before their steel collided with her flesh.

(Soldier's roll: 9/10)

With the two soldiers sprinting at Dahlia, one slightly behind the other, it was clear there was murderous intent in their eyes. Dahlia would not have had the time to finish casting her second spell, even with the assistance of Maldorn, a feat in speed accomplished by such an ordinary soldier. Were they all so aptly windlike? The scimitar came down upon Dahlia, but with the combined magical protection of both Maldorn and the Bishop, the soldier's weapon was abruptly stopped, mere inches from Dahlia's person. The spells, strong as they may be, seemed to falter after the impact. It took a moment for the soldier to recover, but soon he was back in position and preparing to swing at Dahlia. The second soldier, now only a few meters away, prepared for a blow as well.

(Bishop's roll: 10/10)

Before either of them could land a hit though, faster than the eye could make out, the first soldier seemed to abruptly lose all zeal in the moment, his sword dropping from his hand. Upon closer inspection, a golden arrow was seen lodged directly in his heart, an impossible angle only capable from the gods themselves. It pierced his shoulder and directly down into his chest, rendering the soldier deceased in seconds. The second soldier, clearly not expecting assistance from the gods, stumbled back and the charge he was preparing for was now halted. After such an act, he'd surely wait for the assistance of his other soldiers, who were now almost all free from the trap.

With Maldorn's impactful yell, most of the soldiers turned their attention to him, including the leader. Despite his perfect pronunciation and syntax, none of the soldiers spoke back in Dhosi to Maldorn. Instead, a string of strange syllables, not recognizable by the aging wizard nor the Ykrumic historian, escaped a few of their mouths.

"Aie amuir t'enga, tre tir?" Said one.

"Brumm tan, eer'a t'um tre!" Said another.

With five combatants left for them to face, one of them wounded thanks to Dahlia's ice flurry, the trio would need to end the conflict swiftly in the event reinforcements arrive. Luckily for them, the two soldiers killed by Maldorn and the one dead by simply approaching Dahlia seemed to have all the enemy's morale low, some holding their shields up in defense without any of their attackers doing anything to provoke such a stance.

Viper Actual , kaito9049

 

[Dragongal]

The soldiers were pretty good at holding a shield line. And they had an advantage: even if Danny could push forward it ran the risk of a soldier slipping past and attacking the others. In all truth, Danny had never done this before. The whole organized shield line lock thing. It kinda didn't make sense in a one-on-one situation, after all, and he didn't tend to fight like a soldier in any way shape or form. He did find it a bit... amusing that Lera called an armed man whose help she needed a criminal but Danny was too focused on not dying to laugh. He did manage a flicker of a smirk before the soldier pushed at the shield, trying to get him off balance. And once again, Danny pushed back.

Hearing Nyota's concern broke Danny's heart. He never wanted to ask her to do that. If there had been any other practical choice, he wouldn't have asked her. But especially with Sohrab fighting the other soldier with little success, Nyota was the only choice, and for all he knew more soldiers could be showing up at any second. He didn't even know what Winnie would be capable of, though her help with attacking the men's legs was also very helpful. It meant that they couldn't put too much pressure on Danny and Lera.

He almost told Nyota that she didn't have to kill the soldier. He almost did. But it wasn't just his life on the line and in that moment they needed her help.

But Nyota's help gave Danny the space he needed to move forward, though. As the pressure on his shield eased, he growled and pushed forward, toppling the dying man onto his back as his blood hemorrhaged onto the cobblestones. "Move back!" he warned Winnie ( Aeris ) and Nyota ( Pipsqueak ) , lest Winnie be tripped over or inadvertently hit or Nyota be attacked by a soldier if he slipped past Danny. He could almost feel the shifting of Sohrab next to him, getting ready to spring, so he had confidence that the soldier would not escape.

Danny stepped forward, pivoting his shield to push the living soldier to the side, more toward the wall of the alley. When Daniel stepped forward and pulled his shield away, he knew he left the soldier shocked and completely open for Sohrab ( 0stinato ).

He looked over the soldier on the ground - there was no way this man was still alive, and if he was, it would only be for a few seconds. The bloodloss was far, far too rapid, and far too bright red. He winced to himself, a small shiver tracing down his spine. She must have hit an artery, which was merciful in its own way. "Nyota - " he's not dead, Danny almost says.

He almost says it.

It would be so easy. To use the axe and land a "killing" blow, to tell Nyota that she wasn't a killer, that she hadn't been the cause of someone's death. It would have been so easy. But that wasn't the point, was it? “Mother nature, do forgive me for this spilled blood." That was what she said. Not "do forgive me for killing a man." And in the middle of a war zone would it really even help? It seemed far better, really, to help her reconcile with that than to attempt to erase it. So instead, he nodded and turned to call back to Nyota, "Thank you."

Before he returned to the group, he knelt and checked any bags the soldier had, quickly finding what he expected. A rough scroll tied with ribbon. The words inside were absolutely indecipherable to him, but he bet they were some kind of orders. Maybe someone could help translate them and they could figure out what the actual fuck was going on.

Now they needed to get out of here. He turned to head back toward everyone else.

 

[0stinato]

•••
Prehlaami Fable
There is the story of the Man and the Sea. If the Man builds his abode on the shore, where the Sea will surely reach it, will the Sea let him find a wife, have his children and grow old before it destroys his house? No. The Sea will show the Man his error swiftly before he becomes comfortable in it.
•••​

“Mother nature, do forgive me for this spilled blood. It is for the greater good, yes?” Her whispered plea was broken with hitched sobs, the sword wavering terribly. How was she to hit him with no precision?

“I cannot do this!” Nyota looked desperately to the masked man for help, but he was still busy with Lera’s soldiers.

Those sentences were overheard in the back of Sohrab’s mind while he pushed forward, Lera’s blade in his right hand and arm-blade still protecting his left. There was only one thought, small and pointless – for now at least – bubbling up. Nyota had a very different idea of what nature was to Sohrab. What kind of nature did she surround herself with? Whatever kind it was, Sohrab knew he had never seen it. Where she might see beauty, he would see opportunity. And blood – what of blood? Blood of superiority and dominance on her side, and yet she feared its hue and its splash, and her apology that came undermined any authority she had in that moment. She didn’t want it. And she was telling him – him! – she couldn’t kill.

Well...

‘Aside, girl,’ Sohrab, because her height was about as diminutive of his own, had no problem pushing between her and his quarry. With Danny’s movement forward, and his own concerned speech over his shoulder, Sohrab had the room to manoeuvre, the room to do what Nyota couldn’t. But as he spoke, ordering her to the side and shoving her backwards with his shoulder, his voice wasn’t nearly as stern as he thought it would be. He was much sharper than Danny, but not as authoritative as Lera.

Whatever her view of nature was, of killing and blood, Sohrab knew it wasn’t cohesive to what she was needed for at the moment. What had her life been? Had she never seen war, bloodshed? Had she never had her hand wrist-deep in a dead soldier’s pocket?

Danny stepped forward, pivoting his shield to push the living soldier to the side, more toward the wall of the alley. When Daniel stepped forward and pulled his shield away, he knew he left the soldier shocked and completely open for Sohrab.

There was one more, no more time to stall or think or fantasize. One still on his feet rather than on the cobbles and bleeding out. He thrust forward towards the soldier Daniel had shocked. He let Lera’s blade go without a thought, hearing it clatter to the ground as he pushed in front of Daniel, darting downwards diagonally to confuse the soldier’s periphery. Using his now-free hand to grab the soldier’s armour, he came up beside the soldier and roughly pulled him. Sohrab didn’t waste his breath. Daniel had the soldier cornered one way, and he wasn’t going to let the soldier take another step. In a punching motion, his left arm-blade shot forward, aimed towards the armpit, coming at it from the back. The soldiers were scaled warriors, metal directed to glance a blade off harmlessly. But those movement points, they were Sohrab’s prey. There was no armour there.

The push-back of the soldier’s sweating skin; the break with the tip of his blade; the roughness of his perishable organs; the weakness of any breath at all in the soldier’s chest; the siphoning of meaning and the severing of life by Sohrab’s steel; pushing through and through and through, and promising blood.

And there it came as Sohrab ripped out the blade, pushing the soldier back. It was already on his wrist, chest and mask, saturating the fabrics and leathers he wore. The stink of it was that threshold Sohrab dreamed about sometimes. How someone who previously walked on two legs came to lie rotten in a tomb. How one’s teeth would outlast them.

His gaze rose to Daniel, a silent indication of their job done. He moved on though, towards the soldier on the ground, previously struck by Nyota. The body gargled. It sputtered. Still alive, but pointlessly. And its blood was getting very close to Lera’s sword.

Well...

He retrieved the sword, skirted around the body, and picked up his arm-blade. When his gaze eventually rose to Nyota and Winnie, he let his eyes rest upon them through the bloodied mask. ‘She,’ he nodded to Winnie, ‘is right. Your mother nature cannot judge you for prolonging your survival. Some of us are born brutal, and some of us are born beautiful. If you cannot undertake brutality again, I understand; I will do it for you.’

He raised his clean right hand to his chest as he said this, a physical gesture of his words, but winced. ‘And if either of you wish to balance yourselves... you can heal me when we are safe.’

--
Interactions: Aeris Pipsqueak Dragongal
Mentions: Solar Daddy

 

[Viper Actual]

"Aie amuir t'enga, tre tir?" Said one.

"Brumm tan, eer'a t'um tre!" Said another.

Confused, Maldorn wrinkled his face and narrowed his eyes. That language, what is that?

Glancing between the different soldiers as they spoke a thought began to gnaw at the back of Maldorn's mind. So many languages over the years... But which one?

The hermit stared at Dahlia in an attempt to see or gauge a reaction but as far as he could tell she was just as puzzled as he was. Unfortunately any possible studies into this strange dialect would have to wait as the enemy soldiers formed up and raised their shields.

Knowing that both Dahlia and Retten were there right with him Maldorn began to move his staff in an even circular motion practiced to near-perfection over the years.

The top of his staff assumed a dangerous and volatile-looking orange glow only for Maldorn to tilt his staff backwards with the bottom of the staff suddenly shooting a flat and wide fire projectile at the invaders which crept alongside the cobblestone ground.

kaito9049 Solar Daddy

 

[kaito9049]

Dahlia's glanced at Maldorn as she heard the soldiers' strange speech, searching for a hint of recognition she herself didn't possess. Who were these fighters? Some secret unit she'd never heard of? This situation felt more deeply wrong with every passing moment.

But she didn't have time to reach a conclusion now, nor transcribe the noises her opponents were making for later review. They'd recovered faster than she'd expected — was she really this out of practice? Dal stepped back into a defensive stance, inhaling sharply and began rotating her staff counterclockwise. The temperature around her dropped rapidly, causing goosebumps to appear across the surface of her forearms. Frost gathered along the length of the staff for a brief moment before blasting outward in a gust of frigid wind directed toward a cluster of soldiers.

Breath was crucial to controlling this spell. Dal tried to keep her breathing steady, even as her exhales turned to vapor. By the Moon, she was out of shape. But at least she remembered the motions and incantation, keeping the movement of her staff fluid enough to allow the gust to push against the soldiers, slowing their approach and limiting their ability to dodge Maldorn's approaching blast of fire as a thin layer of ice began to collect on their armor.

"Sir Maldorn!" Dahlia shouted over the din of fighting. "I don't suppose you have any other tricks up your sleeve!" The man was obviously much more skilled than he first appeared — and was that Dhosi he'd been speaking? She made a mental note to ask him about his background if — when — they survived.

 

[Solar Daddy]

Port Hemmis - City Square, Central City

With the deaths of the two Ykrumic soldiers threatening the safety of the group, Lera breathed in deep and finally lowered her shield. Her left arm ached terribly from having held against the force of the soldiers for so long. What she lacked in size was made up for in zeal, but unfortunately that put a wear on her body that often ended in exhaustion. Still, adrenaline rushed in her veins and despite all the fighting she had done that day, Lera felt ready to take on the rest of the invading fleet. Ykrum be damned, she'd burn down every last mast if it meant protecting the people of Praetum. After ensuring their surroundings seemed safe, Lera first approached Sohrab. "Good work, I appreciate the support. May I have my sword back?" She held her hand out expectedly, her eyes peering at the criminal through the slits in her helmet. Even with her relatively casual posture, she was ready to grab the knife off her belt should Sohrab attempt anything. He didn't seem the type to assist in a conflict and immediately start his own; but you never know. Lera was a member of the government and he was an outlaw, albeit for petty crimes. She never wished to trust strangers in such a capacity.

Despite their having fought together, Sohrab wouldn't trust the guard. In the space between them, she held all the power. She held the law. Despite her youth, her fighting ability was clear, and she would be destined for higher control. He wasn't too keen to make an enemy of her: or, rather, make himself more an enemy to her. Technically, he already was one.

But for now, he held her sword.

'You may,' he replied to her after a pause. 'I kept my side of the deal so far...'

He raised the sword, along with his arm-blade, slipping his thumb out of the way as he pressed the sharp steel of his blade longways against a strip of leather woven around the grip. His blade cut a three-centimetre shallow gash in the leather, soiled with a drop blood, curtesy of the soldier he'd dispatched. The cut wouldn't risk the leather coming loose: it was simply visual. With that done, he offered the grip to her, sword now complete with his version of a reminder.

'Hopefully... that will remind you to keep true to your end of our agreement.'

Lera knew once the criminal spoke, she held the cards, and he recognized it as well. Though not directly, he'd admitted it through his actions. Lera wasn't one to abuse power in every way she could, but Sohrab was a wanted man in wartime. Her, being a member of the guard under Grand Primarch Aunslas II, meant she had an entire country she represented. He needed that kind of person on his side. Even with the gash on her sword, Lera understood it as a gesture of promises. Lera never shied away from lying, but this man seemed helpful. Hell, he was the third most combat oriented person under he wing at the moment, just behind Daniel and herself. The others needed all the protection they could get, regardless of the morals behind the blades defending them. Lera took the sword so graciously offered by the Orc and sheathed it almost immediately.

"Consider it committed to memory." Lera gave a curt nod towards the skullbound man, before turning to her next order of business. "Nyota, and you," she pointed to the fey girl shyly standing towards the back. "Are you both alright?" It only took one glance at Daniel to know he was fine. Lera knew his type right away; strong solo man, too tough to feel pain. At least, that's what they'd tell you.

Though once high in the sky, the sun had begun to dip lower and lower over the course of the engagements and was now sitting idly above the waterfront, on the other side of the city. The red hues of sunset had just barely started casting on the crimson buildings, turning them blood red in what felt like a matter of moments. With the combination of this, the fires, the blood running in the streets; Port Hemmis was nothing but various hues of sanguine. As if the city itself was wounded, aching, dying. Off in the distance, Eastbound, Castle Wicker rose high above the many storied buildings around the group, a beacon of hope for them to still achieve. Unfortunately for the party, their retreat to safety was still prolonged. Until the Bishop was found, Lera would not cease her search. Despite the orders she herself gave to the men under her, Lera would refuse to let such an asset become a bargaining chip to barbarians such as this. Even if it meant her life; or those of the group she was with. As much as she cared to keep as many people alive as possible, Retten's livelihood directly impacted the war effort, which, if ended prematurely, could save countless lives. Their sacrifice, Lera assured herself, would not be in vain.

Port Hemmis - Bay Market District, Northwest end of the city

The remaining soldiers eyed Dahlia and Maldorn wearily. They'd both proven to be proficient at casting, even able to kill a soldier outright just for stepping close to the historian. When Maldorn began shifting his staff around in a circular fashion, most of them readied their shields again in anticipation, hoping another bout of deadly magic wasn't about to fly their way. The leader, standing between the others, barked orders, and the collective group moved up in a slow and steady fashion. Their targes were only covering their torsos as the size wasn't comparable to a kite shield, but the defense of the line was still sturdy and no doubt effective against their magic, at least to some degree. When the arc of flame shot out from Maldorn's staff at the approaching group, now only a few dozen meters away, the soldiers cowered behind their protection, praying they wouldn't be the next to fall against such incantations.

(Soldier's roll: 2/10)

Despite their best attempt at covering themselves from the heatwave, their thick hide layers and lamellar coats were susceptible to the flames. Two of the five soldiers caught alight immediately after the spell reached them, the soldiers both dropping their weapons and shields to pat themselves out. It took mere seconds for their entire cloak to catch, quickly immolating the soldiers. The metal scales they wore heated up with the flames, cooking the soldiers alive in their gear. As they fell to the ground writhing in pain, screams heard far and wide, one of the unburned soldiers attempted to help put one of his comrades out to no avail. His shifting soon ended, the smell of charred flesh filling the air. The other, far less lucky, began stripping off his armor in a vain hope to save himself from the immolation, but it was no use. His frantic actions did nothing to stop his painful death from reaching him moments after the first soldier. For the remaining three, they were relatively unsinged; two had to put out fires on their shields or cloaks, but otherwise remained fine and huddled together. Now though, it was clear a slow and steady pace would not win them the day, and instead the three - including the heavily armored leader - charged forward, attempting to close the distance as fast as possible.

Now with Dahlia chiming in with a new spell, the casting took effect almost instantly after Maldorn's was done. If only it had happened a moment sooner, the flayed soldiers may have found some respite before death. Unfortunately for them, Dahlia's torrent of frost pushed relentlessly against their raised targes, the wind slowing them down even without the frost effect along with it.

(Soldier's roll: 1/10)

Unfathomably so, Dahlia's rust seemed to have completely removed itself from her as the spell she cast decimated the soldiers. In a matter of seconds, the group found their boots stuck to the ground, their muscles unable to move from the ice forming in their veins, their breathing near stopped from the cold. Soon after the full duration of the spell was cast, the aftermath of Dahlia's effect was plain and clear; the three soldiers, frozen solid, stuck in a forward facing position as if stuck in time climbing the highest peak in the realm. While they were surely completely harmless in their state, who knew how long it would take the ice to melt on this early autumn day?

 

[queendilettante]

As Hazm and Odette waited out the invasion amongst the crumbling residences of Port Hemmis, it became evident that their once perfect hiding spot was not quite as secure as they had hoped. At the far end of the alley, a few loud bangs sounded along with the shuffling of a few footsteps. A scream shrouded the surrounding area, a feeble and pained cry that'd make anyone's blood freeze. Before they knew it, the duo was staring down the likely culprit reaping such a cry. A blood soaked Ykrumic soldier, flanked on either side by fellow warriors, wiped their blade off on the rags of a recently felled civilian. With some unintellegible words spoken between them, the three soldiers suddenly charged the duo on the other end of the alley. They were quickly closing the distance, with no escape but the road ahead of them.

Hazm jumped up from his seated position in the alley and pushed Odette behind him. "Stars above," he cursed, eyeing the rapidly approaching guards. Their heavy boots sunk into the muddy alley with every step, but slowed them down hardly at all.

Hazm took a step back, bumping into Odette. "Shit," he cursed stumbling. "Damn it, girl, try not to get us killed here." When he looked back to the soldiers, he noticed something... off about them. Sure, they looked Ykrumian at first glance, but Hazm had spent more time than he'd care to admit near Ykrumian soldiers. Something about their movement - the erratic, almost panicked nature of it all - it wasn't sitting right with him.

He steeled his gaze and planted his wrapped feet into the muddy ground as firmly as he could. "Girl," he called behind him, not taking his eyes off the encroaching forces. "How do things look behind us?"

“Better than in front”

It had taken Odette longer than she would’ve liked to get her bearings, what with Hazm shoving her about. Truth be told, she had begun to drift off while sitting in the alley, and the sounds of the soldiers approaching had startled her abruptly awake. Once she was back to her senses, however, Odette instinctually snapped to the defensive position she and Hazm had relied on many times over the years, with her back flush against his and her arms at the ready.

The fighting in the alley across the way seemed to have died down, though she couldn’t see very clearly from where they were standing. The people she could see didn’t look like the ones trying to kill them, at least, and that was good enough for Odette.

“Can you smooth talk us into making some allies if we retreat?” She called back to Hazm.

"You know me," Hazm remarked, slowly backing into the street with Odette still at his back. "No one quite makes friends like me."

Pushed to the edge of the alley and street - an estuary of trash and bodies - Hazm leered at the guards ready to descend upon him and the girl. He stuck one foot on the pavement of the street, one foot in the mud of the alley, and readied his staff for a fight.