Fantasy Dark Eden: Epilogue | Soulbringers

[Xethyrion]

— primary roleplay —

MAIN STORYLINE

CHAPTER I. COMING SOON

— subsidiary narrative —

SOULBRINGERS

CHAPTER I. PROLOGUE

— subsidiary narrative —

REGALIAS

CHAPTER I. PROLOGUE

— sepherus athenaeum —

HISTORY

RECORD I. COMING SOON

DARK EDEN EPILOGUE

「remnants soulbringer」 the vibrant scherzo

the soulbringers: before the formation

After the Hero's betrayal and commitment of apostasy, the Heroes Guild became a part of history. With the Guild Master slain by the Hero during the Battle of Volcania, the world would soon learn of the Hero's treachery, forcing civilization into a panic along with the empyreal heavens that formerly blessed the Hero with powers beyond that of imaginable strength. As the Holy Kingdom of Volcania collapsed as a result of the Hero's battle against all nearly all of its forces, next to meet its fate was the Sartauron Empire, losing their King along with their greatest Astral Armament treasure vaults, eventually causing irreparable damage to the lands of both the nations.

Believed to have been annihilated by the Dark Hero, the revolting combatants that sought to stop the former's expedition across the terrain was saved by Yutera Kriemhild, and returned to Aeslengard in order to report their the Hero's betrayal to the Emperor, who was devastated by the news while the gods remained infuriated. Afraid and forced in a dilemma, Aeslengard closed their borders from refuges and imprisoned Sigurd Alcaeus' villagers, worsening the situation - despite Yutera's efforts in convincing her father that the choices he had made would conclude in their empire's downfall.

As predicted, the situation corroded when the Dark Hero formed a pact with the Demon God, the former simultaneously deceiving the latter by eternally incarcerated him below the frozen lake of Cocytus, right before extracting his vile essence to cast an authoritative god-tier magic on the world, ceasing the movement of time and objects for 200 years while the Dark Hero and his associates established a new savage hierarchy in Sitra Achra, later destroying Exelica along with the God of War, the strongest known celestial being that dominated led the forces of heaven with an iron fist. Shortly after his defeat, Eden was free from their cursed spell, introducing the Dark Age of Solitude.

The Vile Beasts returned from their prisons, ravaging across the world of Eden where the Divine Blessings were no more, ceasing all celestial barriers to deactivate near the equator zone. As the world began to crumble and survival remained the highest priority for most, the forming of the Sovereignty of Vragathia was able to reduce the death rate, all while Aeslengard remained to be the only surviving nation active excluding Vragathia.

The Remnants Soulbringer organization was formed as a response to the situation. Their primary objective remains clear. Put an end to the Regalias of Qliphoth's atrocities.

authorized characters index

「GM」 XETHYRION

◈ Gunther | The Knowledge Seeker

◈ Sirus Thorvein | The King of Astral Armaments

◈ Scarletta Knightsin | The Chevalier of Virtue

「GM」 NINETAILSIX

◈ Yutera Kriemhild | The Inheritor of the Hope Fragment

「PLAYER」 lunar_moth

◈ Endymion Aurelimere

「PLAYER」 Worthlessplebian

◈ Hákon Strickland

「PLAYER」 Reinhardt

◈ Sariavyn Atlazeur

「PLAYER」 Mqueserasera

◈ Siara Ashworth

「PLAYER」 Erode

◈ Zeviene Malda

 

[Xethyrion]

NinetaiIsIX ERode lunar_moth Worthlessplebian Reinhardt Mqueserasera​

Chapter I. Prologue

LOCATION: Cathedral of Yurtivel, Hyperion Sanctuary, Aeslengard Empire

The Hyperion Sanctuary, famously known as the Arcadian Haven by the people of Aeslengard.

A dazzling sky island that flies just above the western region of Aeslengard, held in the atmosphere by lost magic from thousands of years ago. It existed for the sole purpose as Aeslengard's symbol, embodying the empire's benevolence.

In the past, the island was used as a haven for civilians during natural disasters. Due to its magical ability to hide from plain sight, it was one of Aeslengard's key terrain during Man's conflict.

The Sanctuary is now used by the Remnants Soulbringer, as their base of operations.

「08: 10 am, aeslengard standard time」​

Yutera's health was slowly growing worse. The treatment provided by Aeslengard's greatest mages couldn't break through the curse, although her life force remained unaffected. It was a strange case for certain, Gunther thought. Her health was showing signs of declining, yet, her life expectancy was unreasonably high, due to her organs functioning properly as they should.

Few experts that visited the princess had said that the curse was implanted in both her heart and the brain, forcing Yutera to hallucinate her illness while her body was also under an illusion. It didn't make much sense for anyone that heard their possible explanations. Amongst them was Gunther, who was furiously looking for possible cures for his commandant's sickness.

"Thank you for your help as always, Doc. I'll make sure to compensate for your troubles in the future."

Gunther shook hands with the doctor who had recently examined Yutera's health, whom the latter had to slouch to accept the marsupial's hand.

"I wouldn't dare to ask for compensation for something that I couldn't even help with, Gunther. The Princess is doing more than I ever could in this damned era, so I don't have any room to complain. If I find any clues that could aid with the curse, I'll make sure to contact you right away."

It was a short reunion between the two. They haven't seen each other since the days of the Heroes Guild's prominence, when Gunther traveled the world to recruit the most promising individuals from every culture, hoping to strengthen the guild to reach their goal of defeating the Demon God, Astaroth.

But now, those days were long gone. Their objective was ultimately achieved - but at the cost of the Hero betraying the entirety of humanity for the sake of their unknown ambitions. His heart ached in melancholy every moment he daydreamed about the days of the past when life was fulfilling and purposeful.

Now, whenever Gunther left the Hyperion Sanctuary to gather supplies and information, he was met with faces of despair and misery.

A man had recently lost his brave son to a vile beast, and could only receive a severed hand as a memorial by the Aeslengard military. A woman had recently lost his husband due to a similar fate, except the perpetrator was that of a Vragathian mad man. And a child was starving on the streets, after losing his parents to a desperate burglar.

Needless to say, it also infuriated Gunther, who couldn't understand his former master.

"I was never a hero. You all had expected much more than what I had sought since the day of my origin's reincarnation. And today, you will witness the results of your prolonged mistakes—the wrath of Hercules and my own."​

Sigurd's final words to the Heroes Guild during the battle in the Volcanian throne were permanently scarred within Gunther's head, the dark tone of his voice embodying those words like a curse on itself. It happened to also be accompanied by his brutal tactics used to defeat his former companions, who had trusted in him before—and still did despite the odds, expecting him to return home after speaking with Yutera.

But it was clear that fate had already been decided the moment Sigurd summoned the Herculean Blade, using its powers to utterly shatter the confidence of the Heroes Guild and its allies.

Truly, he was a despicable man from the start, especially after hearing the tales of Sigurd's first manslaughter from the Knights Grandmaster of Aeslengard.

But it wasn't the time to relive the past, as Yutera's health was too important. If he could give his life to save her's, he would've done it in a heartbeat—as his loyalty to the princess could never be severed no matter the situation.

After guiding his acquaintance to the sky dock, Gunther made his way to Yutera's bedroom, where she would be laying on her bed, unable to use her legs no more after last night. The curse that was imbued within her heart had gone through an evolutionary phase, starting to affect her nerve system—immobilizing her legs as its first victim.

"Thanks for watching over her, Hákon. Just what would I do without your help, courtesy."

Gunther hopped onto the nearest wooden stool, taking a seat next to Yutera's bed, where the occupant was barely awake due to the curse's efforts of draining her mana onto the surface. Thankfully, a crystal-powered machine was able to collect these mana particles and distribute them back into Yutera, enabling her consciousness and ability to talk.

The marsupial then spoke to the commandant.

"As per your request, I announced your order for all active Soulbringers to gather in your bedroom for the group's next assessment. They weren't informed about the details of the directive, just like you asked."

 

[NinetaiIsIX]

yutera kriemhild

— inheritor of the hope fragment —

The bedridden woman’s eye trailed over to the marsupial, turning her head to face him as he perched onto the stool beside her, and meekly reached out to clasp her hands around his paws. She gave a faint smile as her brows creased upwards slightly. “I can only give you my utmost thanks, Gunther. I wish I could return all that you have done for me, but at my current state, I fear I am only providing you more trouble. As if I hadn’t done enough already,” she begins to chuckle before interrupting herself with an abrupt cough. Her pink orb scanned the room for looks of amusement, but instead she was met with a still silence and two pairs of eyes that held contact with each other before locking onto her own with deep concern.

The princess awkwardly stared back at the ceiling, mentally tracing the patterns that lay above her as a way to distract herself from the dull aching pains in her body while she contemplated what to say next. “Well, anyway, feel free to do as you wish until the others arrive. There will be no use in keeping watch of my body, as it would just be a waste of your time. In the meantime, I think I may try to rest.”

Yutera began to shut her eye, but it fluttered open again, as if she had remembered something. She struggled for a moment to turn her body over to face Hákon, and once again flashed a weak smile, this time towards the guardian of the forest. “Hákon, you need not say anything, but I would like to thank you too for your kind heart and your allyship. I cannot be any more grateful for your assistance— I don’t know what I would do without any of you.”

. . .​

The thoughts of betrayal began to plague Yutera’s mind, daring to invade her dreams as she attempted to put herself to sleep for the second time. She knew it was unlikely for her comrades to fall to the darkness, yet these thoughts continued to latch onto her and feed on her dread. She knew had to trust her companions in order to have a greater fighting chance against the clutches of evil, and so she did her best to give them all the benefit of the doubt. Thus, with a heavy sigh and a pained grimace, she allowed the realm of sleep to take over her.

Xethyrion ERode lunar_moth Worthlessplebian Reinhardt Mqueserasera

 

[Worthlessplebian]

hákon strickland

— the coille custodian —

In the chambers of Yutera Kriemhild, there reside two living beings. One, a woman who inherited the fragment of hope now bedridden, and her current watcher, Hákon Strickland The Coille Custodian. He kneels there, on the ground with his arboreous spear. Honed into a meditative trance. His mind, a receptacle for the noise of nature. The strange sounds—roaring, twisting, whining—reverberated tenfold. Sometimes, this noise would even penetrate his waking state. Quite grating. Not as vexatious as being frozen for 200 years while petulance wrapped with egotism shunned the false Gods away from the world, who now tries to meddle with the forces of Nature. Yet moving away from the irritating predicament, even Hákon could see the funny coincidence of telling the protector of Nature to look over a woman who had a flower sprouting.

The door to the chambers began to yawn open. Hákon's blue eyes shot open as his human hand grasped the arboreous spear and rose to meet whoever wished to enter.

It was Gunther Kraulis, a scholar amongst the soulbringers. His small stature makes Hákon tilt his head forward to see him better. Immediately, the marsupial expressed his gratitude to Hákon for guarding Yutera. Hákon remained stoic, not even flinching. His fellow soulbringers assume that Hákon is involved out of selfless heroism. However, this is simply a duty to Nature, not to them.

He relayed the news of the others receiving her orders and that they would arrive at her bedroom. Hákon folded his arms with his spear in-between. Then Yutera called to him, her weak voice managing to thank Hákon for having a kind heart. A small nod of his wooden helmet was the reply. The guardian unfolded his arms and walked to the door. "I will return."

And return, he will. For now, the guardian walked the halls of this cathedral. Occasionally earning glances from people, directed primarily to his dendroidal arm. He had arrived at the garden area, gazing upon what had remained of the greenery. A solemn sigh escaped the guardian, a difficult battle awaits him.

Xethyrion NinetaiIsIX ERode lunar_moth Reinhardt Mqueserasera

 

[ERode]

She was fine without details, but to be denied even a basic idea of what the meeting was about? That pissed Zeviene off, far more than anything else that she had witnessed over the last few days. Gunther was a decent fellow though, so she had reined in her disgust and settled for making her presence through the halls of the Cathedral of Yurtivel as loud and obnoxious as possible. Her boots slapped against marbled stone as she stomped past the garden, past a vaguely familiar face. The woman paused, frowning as she tried to place a name onto that masked forest-dweller, then promptly gave up. The man was an oath-keeper, trustworthy and stalwart, but that must’ve been all there was to him. She would’ve remembered his name if he mattered. Descriptors would do if he didn’t.

Zeviene pulled in her emotions further as she neared the door to Yutera’s chambers, clenching and unclenching her fists to squeeze out the last bits of malcontent brewing within. No point in blowing up on Yutera either. Considering how the woman was asleep 90% of the time, she really couldn’t be expected to be aware of anyone else’s schedules, after all. Couldn’t even be trusted to schedule meetings ahead of time. She drew in a deep breath, counted prime numbers to 21, forced her brain to accept that there was no point in getting mad at anyone in the room for things that they weren’t able to control, and stepped in.

Literally no one else was there.

She could’ve stayed in her lab for a whole five minutes longer, then made the trip, and probably wouldn’t even be the last to arrive! And considering the time of day, no, even without considering the time of day, there was a fair chance that Endymion was passed out from sleep deprivation. Should’ve paid him a visit before marching off. Hell, should’ve tracked down Siara while she was at it. With Aeslengard’s populace becoming bigger and bigger sadsacks by the day, the priestess would probably be doing her self-sacrificial bullshit, fuck.

And if they weren’t, if Zeviene’s predictions were off, then she may just miss them entirely if she walked out of the Cathedral in search of them. What a time-wasting conundrum. If only Yutera sent them a handout to read, instead of necessitating this in-person meeting.

…oh well.

The brunette pulled open a pouch hanging from her belt and removed a couple slices of preserved meat and fruit. Passing it to Gunther, Zeviene leaned against the wall beside the mascot and said, “Saw the doctor’s carriage on the way here. Eat up; if Yutera can chew, I’ve got more for her too.” As if to demonstrate the depths of her reserves, she popped open another pouch and retrieved some hardtack and cheese, taking them for herself.

If she had to wait, at least she could eat. Which brought up a question as her mind began to wander.

Could the treeman grow fresh fruit from his arm?

Xethyrion NinetaiIsIX lunar_moth Reinhardt Mqueserasera Worthlessplebian

 

[lunar_moth]

Endymion blinks the remnants of sleep out of the corners of his eyes as he weaves near-silent through the halls of the cathedral. His robes rustle a bit with the movement, but his feet are quiet on the marble tiling, clad in his softer-leather slippers he saves for indoors. Becoming unnoticeable -- it's something he's had much practice in, since his youth.

He holds a book under one arm. It's a ragged thing, leather binding clearly done by an amateur (sue him, bookbinding isn't his specialty), and the front cover is hastily embroidered in the corner with silver thread: initials, E.A., and a small crescent moon. It's a collection of Aeslengardian folktales, some rewritten from memory, others from fragments he'd been able to track down from various sources. Quite a few stories are incomplete -- well, most are, actually. But his favourite -- the one about the moon princess and her human lover -- is nearly without flaw. It's perhaps a childish side project he's taken, especially for someone of his profession. But he still doesn't know the reason for his summons today; perhaps he can keep Yutera company again, regale her while she rests with something other than a book on anti-matter theory this time. Most people don't care to hear his rambling on the subject. That's alright -- all the more reason for him to compose his own response paper on the subject. Gods know he won't turn down the opportunity, even if his opinions might never leave his room.

When Endymion approaches the chambers where Yutera rests, he slows his steps a bit; a voice floats from beyond the door, though he can't quite make out the words. He pauses. Shifts his arms more snugly around the book. Then he pushes open the heavy door and steps through the threshold in time with its creak on its hinges. Inside is Yutera, of course, as well Gunther and Zeviene. Perhaps he didn't know all of them as well as he should have, but when it came to the Soulbringers, Endymion hoarded their names and faces like precious data. He gives a small smile and a nod of acknowledgement to the other two Soulbringers.

"Princess," he addresses the still-sleeping Yutera, falling into something of a bow. It's shallow though as he hurries to straighten and rush closer to her side. An old custom, left behind from the days Before. Endymion knows it's not necessary, at this point; they're so far beyond old formalities and social niceties. But sometimes it's comforting to hold onto old routines, especially in a world that's become beyond anything quantifiable.

His gaze wanders back up to the other two.

"Fancy meeting you here," he jests with a lazy salute. "I don't suppose either of you happen to know the reason for our summons?"

...
Xethyrion NinetaiIsIX ERode Reinhardt Mqueserasera Worthlessplebian

 

[Reinhardt]

Sariavyn Deanne Atlazeur​

Location: Hyperion Sanctuary​

A loud thud came as a resident fell to the ground on his back, a bruise marked upon his side. With irritation rather evident on his face, he turned to the figure that bumped onto him - which was continually speeding to some destination. "Hey! Watch where you're going!", the man angrily shouted as he stood.

In the ever-growing distance between them, the person paid no attention. She kept rushing onward, ignoring whatever etiquette there was for traveling in the sanctuary - shoving and tackling any obstacle in her way, regardless of who or what they were. On her left hand was a chunk of well-roasted meat skewered by a stick, with numerous bite marks that would quite easily reveal her previous activity.

Numerous aggravated people later, she finally arrived at her destination.

With not even a single ounce of hesitation, she pushed open the doors, creaking and slamming noise be dammed. This room may be where the renowned Yutera rested, but such a thing barely mattered to her. She was summoned, and she arrived on time - that is what is important, to her at least.

Not even bothering to close the now ajar doors of the room, she soundly marched inside and made her presence known with a rather loud greeting - if one could call it that.

"I'm here! I didn't miss anything right?", she said as her eyes quickly scanned the room. Witnessing two, no, three people in the area, not including the talking mascot that was Gunther - to which she turned her gaze.

"Oi, rabbit! Why is she still sleeping?", she gestured to the reclined Yutera using her free hand.

She raised the skewered meat and took a hefty bite at it. Mouth still full and in the midst of chewing her meal, she added. "Aren't we going to talk or something?"

Tags: Gunther ( Xethyrion ), Yutera ( NinetaiIsIX ), Hákon ( Worthlessplebian ), Zeviene ( ERode ), Endymion ( lunar_moth ), Siara ( Mqueserasera )

 

[Mqueserasera]

SIARA ASHWORTH
Mentions: Xethyrion NinetaiIsIX Worthlessplebian ERode lunar_moth Reinhardt


When Hákon arrived at the infirmary, Siara’s greeting betrayed a slight hint of fatigue. Hours of labouring had begun to take their toll. Since an hour ago, she had thought to retreat to her chamber for a short rest, but the lonesome room had discouraged her. At three she had been startled awake by a strange nightmare and a sudden assault of helplessness, then off she’d gone and, to ease her heart from the foul dream, wandered into the medical wing. Being a frequent guest to the place, she’d soon found herself wending her ways among the sick beds, dressing and bandaging wounds, tending to minor and chronic illness alike. The night shift’s healers and physicians left Siara to her own devices – they knew her well and had not in them the bother to tell her off. Plain truth remained that her station was not there but out on the battlefield, and yet people knew where to find her most of the time. For that, she was not at all surprised when found by Harkon, but more by the fact that she had been sent for so suddenly by the Commander.

“Why? Has her condition worsened…” she knitted her brows, failing to conceal a grave expression in time, “no, stay your words, I believe the Commander may yet recover, but that is for fate to tell… Please let her know that I will be there right away.”

But she stayed for a little more to finish changing the bandage on a man’s shoulder, while reigning in the urge to heal the wound away with magic. These days, there was no shortage of patrols or scouting parties sent back to the Sanctuary after being mauled to a sorry state by vile beasts, which deplete their few healers’ mana for less than serious wounds. Already she had expended a large amount of mana on a soldier’s amputated hand since early morning, it would be unwise to spend anymore. What If there comes a raid and she has not the least mana to defend the Sanctuary? She shuddered to think of the consequences. The sight of pain-ridden patients wavered her self-control many a time, but reign it in she did. Patiently she finished the bandaging and readied to depart.

Just then, the door barged open, in came an injured man and then another.

“Only light bruises,… and a concussion,” declared the head physician.

But the victims’ report was bizarre: they spoke of a fast-moving, humanoid creature traversing through the city at an alarming speed.

“Could it be a vile beast?” A look of deep concern passed her face. Right here roaming the street of their Sanctuary? But quickly she dismissed the thought - there should be an uproar by now if that were the case. For caution's sake, though, she decided to stop by a sentinel post to report the incident.

And that was the reason the diligent Siara arrived at Yureta unfashionably late, as per usual, dragged down by many a task on the way. As expected, everyone else was already there. Gunther, Hákon, Sariavyn, Zeviene, Edymon, and then there was Yureta, whom she looked upon the last. Nowadays the poor girl slept more than awake, weakened by the day, and at times conjured in Siara an image of transparency, as if she was dissolving away into the air. And it wrenched her heart, no less than for any dying stranger, but all the more for she had known the princess for a long time. Her gaze held long upon the flower on Yureta’s eye, no doubt was the cause of her sickness, and also a grim reminder. Here they were, deep in Aeslengard, in its last citadel - one of the few safe havens remained - and yet for all their might, their experience, and their courage, they could not protect their beloved commander from him.

Even here in Arcadia, he haunted them.

But she hastily cast those thoughts from her visage, raised her slumped shoulders, and put on a serviceable smile.

“The commander has gone back to sleep already? My apologies, I should have come earlier."

 

[Xethyrion]

GUNTHER KRAULIS

It was unusual for the Soulbringers to gather like they have. Without reason, no one had much reason to work with one another, as everyone was capable of performing their duties without the aid of others. However, as the situation worsened over the course of few weeks around the borders of Aeslengard, the Soulbringer's commandant, Yutera Kriemhild, was beginning to fear the possibility of an all out war.

The Sovereignty of Vragathia was a nation built on the remnants of other kingdoms around the ruined fields of Eden. As such, no soldier had passion to slaughter their former allies, as Eden was once a united realm before the Hero's shadow controlled the fear of the people. But there was no choice to be had for those who were drafted into the Vragathian military.

But today, the Soulbringers will take their first step in stopping the skirmishes from becoming another global conflict.

"Zeviene, Hákon, Endymion, Sariavyn, and of course, Siara."

Gunther mentioned with a brief hint of joy, rest assuring himself after seeing that they were still themselves. Certainly, for the marsupial to be this paranoid about his own comrades... Gunther felt sorrow for himself.

The contract familiar took a quick glance at Yutera, who couldn't control her sleep and eventually fell into a deep slumber. Knowing that this was merely a common occurrence, Gunther took it upon himself to explain the situation to the group, as he was the only one aware of Yutera's next orders for the Soulbringers.

"On our commandant's behalf, I'll apologize for abruptly summoning you all here without formal notice. As you all may already know, our efforts currently have not been showing drastic results in calming the tension between the two active countries on Eden. As much as I would hate to admit it, we're starting to fall behind the Integrity Knights."

The Integrity Knights were quickly obtaining reputation as Aeslengard's greatest enemies, trained by an "unknown" group of Vragathian elites surrounded by legends and folktales. The Knights were solely responsible for the skirmishes around the Aeslengard borders, forcing Yutera to respond with the Soulbringer's own might.

But the Knights simply outnumbered the Soulbringers. This was certainly going to be a difficult battle to win, even for Soulbringer standards.

"Ahem. Our first objective is clear."

Gunther began reciting his commandant's orders after clearing his throat.

"A few weeks ago, one of our contractors was sent by the commandant to assist the Aeslengardian forces from fending off against the Vragathian soldiers that were attempting a raid. Amongst them were multiple Integrity Knights, and so, Sirus Thorvein was deployed to terminate the problem. Knowing the King of the now collapsed Sartauron Empire, the commandant was certain that he would get the job done... But as you might have guessed, we have not received any reports from our fellow Soulbringer."

The marsupial helped himself off the stool and walked across the room, reaching for the table that was on the center of the room and placed a map that visualized the entire region of Eden's northern nations, where Aeslengard was located.

Gunther pointed at the southern borders, using an inked pen to mark the area of their objective's location.

"I'll be able to transport you all to the destination without delay. Exterminate the Integrity Knights that is terrorizing the region and find Sirus. We'll also need him for... Questioning, of if be ever retaliates, I ask that you attempt to capture him alive."

 

[Worthlessplebian]

hákon strickland

— the coille custodian —

After returning from his brief respite in the gardens, Hákon stood shoulder to shoulder with his peers. His arms crossed as they prepared to hear the commandant's relayed orders. The quick-witted researcher, Zeviene Malda was the first to arrive, barring Hákon's guardianship of Yutera. Her dedication to research mirrored Hákon's devoted stewardship of Nature. Respectable. Indagation shall be her death. He doesn't believe she knows his name. The mystical weaver, Siara Ashworth, the method of her healing is unorthodox to Hákon yet appreciated. She mistakes morality for superiority. The jungle's cunning could illuminate her dim naïvete. Endymion Aurelimere, fancy name. Another mage, fascinated with his own projects.

Before he could continue his silent judgement, the call of his name snatched his attention. The former Sartaurian ruler was dispatched to end this raid. The emperor failed to contact or refused, forcing Yutera's hand to send this assembly and finish what had been started. Curious, the guardian thought as he approached the table. The sharp fingers of his tree-like hand touched the area. Memorizing the details. To him, it seemed like a trap. An obvious one, by the looks of it.

"A possible trap. What do you think?"

Turning his head towards them before looking at Gunther.

"Transport us behind the enemy if possible."

A highly dangerous manoeuvre in Hákon's eyes but the enemy would not expect the rapid response of five soulbringers, four with armaments. It posed a significant risk but rewarding one too if they could also communicate with the Aeslengardian forces present, they could collapse on them like a wolf pack.

Xethyrion NinetaiIsIX ERode lunar_moth Reinhardt Mqueserasera

 

[ERode]

Endymion looked well enough, at least. He always looked well after sleeping though; it was a matter of when he slept that was always a cause for concern. Siara, on the other hand? Zeviene rolled her eyes at the battle healer’s arrival. Her eyes were as heavily bagged as ever, deep shadows giving her the hollow gaze of the people she treated. Didn’t even look like the woman had time to put on makeup to mask it. Never had to consider how it looked to be treated by a loopy insomniac, huh? At least someone else had the sense to eat. She couldn’t approve much of the dark-skinned troublemaker, but her eating habits should’ve been emulated by the others. Especially today. Especially before a mission of such urgency as rescuing an Armanent-less former king from his own suicidal pride.

Zeviene tensed the muscles in her body, feeling the energy that flowed through her blood, the warmth that spread through her core. Nothing hurt, and her tendons were loose. Only superficial marks remained from her extermination mission a couple days back. Her condition was good. In five minutes and twenty-four seconds, her condition will be great.

Once the meeting shifted from debrief to discussion, she nodded along with the tree man’s suggestion. “Kings like to pretend that the world revolves around them, after all. Nice for getting shit done, but makes them good at forgetting the shit others have done for them.” A burnt-out forest, and ruined villages. Nothing to obstruct their view, but no vantage points either. And it was going to be a mass of bodies, from which they’d have to pick out a mere handful who were actual threats. “I say bring us in from above. Only gonna need a couple seconds to pick out who to headhunt, but we can’t do that if we’ve got a hundred footsoldiers blocking our view.”

No point of an ambush if they ended up killing the wrong people.

“Unless you’ve already got info on where the Knights’ll be, Gunther? And hell, what’s the priority here? Recovering that bankrupt sadsack? Or burying Vragathia’s punks?”
Xethyrion NinetaiIsIX lunar_moth Reinhardt Mqueserasera Worthlessplebian

 

[lunar_moth]

All the (relevant) Soulbringers gathered in one room, Endymion lets his eyes rove over each of their faces for a moment -- mostly just fine, if not tired, but who isn't these days? He flashes a small smile at the ones who came in after him -- Sariavyn, Siara, (who, for once, he does not mix up name-wise in his head, nice) and nods a little more exaggeratedly in greeting at Hákon. Endymion keeps meaning to ask how good his peripheral vision actually is in that clunky mask, but he keeps missing his chance. Better safe than sorry for now, he thinks as he clears his throat to speak, after mulling over the others' words in his head.

"I have to agree with Zeviene," he starts, inclining his head in her general direction. He's not really looking, instead moving from his spot hugging the wall and beginning to probe through whatever Yutera's got in her chambers. A small bookshelf; nothing interesting, Endymion tilts the books out one-by-one with a finger to the top of their spine, then nudges them back in place while he says, "The Integrity Knights are a pain in our asses, but they're not stupid. They'll be expecting us, especially if they know we're coming for our King." He puntuates that last word with a gesture of the empty inkwell he'd now been examining in his hands. Damn, that would've looked a lot cooler with a king chess piece or something. Shame chess sets aren't in high production these days. He taps a short fingernail absent-mindedly against the side of the glass bottle.

"No point in even trying for an ambush. We'd be better off trying to get in and get out before they even hit the ground," Endymion finishes, now standing facing the others with one arm crossed over his front and a finger on his chin. The ink bottle has mysteriously disappeared, probably not into a pocket in his robes. (What? It's not like Yutera will be needing it.)

"...Besides. We really don't know when the Regalias will decide they're tired of playing this game of back and forth. Best we're not too distracted, if we have a choice." He flicks his gaze over to silently-sleeping Yutera. "Which does make me worry about what will happen if we can't find Sirus, or if he decides to cause us problems."

Xethyrion NinetaiIsIX ERode Reinhardt Mqueserasera Worthlessplebian

 

[Reinhardt]

Sariavyn Deanne Atlazeur​

Location: Hyperion Sanctuary​

Sariavyn listened well to Gunther as he explained the situation and briefed them on their tasks - as well as she can, that is. While the words of the tiny demi-human seeped their way into Sariavyn's ear, and eventually into her mind, she was vigorously feasting on the meal that she had brought with her. Each bite tearing off chunks of cooked flesh from the bone, the meaty juices lusciously flowing from every fiber to her tongue. There were bits of saliva that may have dripped to the floor, but that may also be the oil from the meat that had oozed out as she chewed.

It didn't take long for her to finish her meal and casually toss away the fleshless bone somewhere around the area. The sleeping girl certainly shouldn't notice it, but in case she did, there would most likely be some folks who would be honored to clean up her room - not that it needed cleaning anyway.

When the rest of the Soulbringers decided to voice their thoughts on the discussed matter, Sariavyn did not shy away to follow suit.

Knuckles cracked.
A confident, yet imposing smile.
And a rather evident sense of eagerness.

"That's all we gotta do? Just beat 'em up and get this Seeroos guy?", Sariavyn audaciously interjected. "Then what's all this left-right back-front talk about? Let's just go!"

"Come on rabbit, send us there!", she added.

Tags: Gunther ( Xethyrion ), Yutera ( NinetaiIsIX ), Hákon ( Worthlessplebian ), Zeviene ( ERode ), Endymion ( lunar_moth ), Siara ( Mqueserasera )

 

[Mqueserasera]

SIARA ASHWORTH
Mentions: Xethyrion NinetaiIsIX Worthlessplebian ERode lunar_moth Reinhardt


Sirius, a difficult man was Siara’s impression of him from their few encounters. She’d attempted to get acquainted with him, of course, to offer a helping hand, words of advice or other services could be expected from a battle healer bringing the words of hope, useless as they may seem to a king. But such were her troubles, as she treated everyone equally, from the worst scoundrels to proudest kings, and nearly as soon as she’d heard of his tale – the great downfall from grace – she’d rushed to his side, full of pity. For all the hope she'd offered, all the talk of a bright future in which all the had been lost would be returned unto him, rightfully so with the help of the Soulbringers. He'd rewarded her with scorn and hostility, chased her away like a beggar at his doorstep, truly she'd felt like one, yet couldn’t stop her from keeping on trying, fruitless an endeavour as it had been.

But the discussion went on. She frowned a bit at Hákon’s suggestion, then even more at Zeviene’s. The lively Sariavyn’s words almost got her riled up and voice her objection openly, but she held it in and waited for the dark-skinned girl to finish.

“Certainly,” she said when it was her turn to speak, “we should prioritize the King’s safety above all else. I don’t have anything to offer tactic-wise, but I do agree with Endymion, we should make stealthy our approach instead of inviting pointless violence, first search the vicinity for any sign of the King. If indeed he’s captured or in hiding, he may have left some pointers for the rescue party…”

Or perhaps not, a sudden thought crossed her mind. The man was prideful even for a king, so much so that he might refuse to call for help even if his life were at risk. A man full of pride like that would not trade his honour for a helping hand. But… honour and pride, aren’t those things simply one's selfishness? How else could one call the tendency to endanger others and themselves, to protect nothing but their own selfish conviction? Would it not be better to live on and make the world a better place? To take that life they are so willing to thoughtlessly throw away and instead use it for others less fortunate than them? Selfish, thoughtless, apathetic, caring only for himself but none other. A man like that… a man like that is so…

Siara jerked awake from her thoughts. Startled by her own malice, her eye twitched, and after a second, she cleared her throat awkwardly.

“Pardon me. I mean, given the chance, he certainly would have left some pointers. He’s expecting us to come for him, I think. And this talk about dealing with his retaliations is nonsense. Is he not our comrade? As comrades sharing a common goal, how can we place so little trust in each other like that?” those last words she spoke a tad quieter, and her gaze again directed to where their commandant lay, peacefully asleep.

 

[NinetaiIsIX]

yutera kriemhild

— inheritor of the hope fragment —

As the Soulbringers began to discuss strategy, Yutera woke from her soft slumber, slightly discomforted by the chatter and even more so by the aching that continued to course upward from her lower body. Attempting to ignore the pain as best she could, the commandant remained laying in bed as she stifled her winces and grimaced expressions while waiting for each member to have their say in the matter. Until everyone was finished speaking, she would pretend to be asleep, for she did not want anyone to come rushing towards her during the middle of an important discussion.

"Siara's right," Yutera finally chimed in, blinking her left eye open while the petaled armament stayed dormant in her right socket. She turned her head so that her face would face their backs. Although the last line that Siara uttered was quieter than the rest, Yutera was able to hear each word, and while she already felt multiple pains in her being, this one hurt the most. It stung her in the core of her heart, and for that, she felt utterly guilty for thinking the way that she did. "We should all have faith in each other," said she, a hypocrite of her own word, as if trying to convince herself as well.

The ill-bearing woman slowly hoisted herself up from the bed to maintain a better level of height to which she could speak with her comrades, and cleared her throat.

"Our main priority at hand, like Siara suggested, is to make sure that we bring the King back to Aeslengard safe and sound. Indeed, he may seem rather reckless and selfish to the common eye, as if tending to his own needs, but I assure you, he is still on our side. Sirus is... not much a man of many words, or rather, his communication skills are poor, but his actions speak well for himself.

"While Sirus does not directly involve himself with us at times, he has always made sure to look after and protect not only us, but the Hyperion Sanctuary as well. He has also attempted to improve the civilization of the Sartauron Empire so the civilians are," she paused, glancing at Sariavyn while being discreet with her words, "less violent, and more courteous towards each other. He has proven himself to be useful over numerous occasions, which is why I ask of you not to harm him, and instead return him to us safely, as soon as possible. Sirus is one of us, so he shall be treated no differently than we do each other, do you understand?"

As Yutera spoke, her gaze drifted between the Remnants to make sure she had their attention, and began to mentally assess each one: Hákon, a stoic, reserved individual who would not hesitate to protect those in danger; Zeviene, a rather moody yet tactical researcher, who, although she would hate to admit it, deeply cares for the wellbeing of others; Endymion, a laid-back, mischievous mage with a few childish mannerisms and a friendly disposition, who is rather competent at what he does; Sariavyn, an obnoxious yet brave character who is never afraid to speak her mind and sticks strongly to her values; Siara, possibly— no, most definitely— one of the kindest beings Yutera had ever met, with a compassionate soul who thinks of others much before she thinks of herself; and who could forget Gunther, the loyal, scholarly, and very lovable 3' intellectual, whose words more than make up for his lack of height?

After taking a closer look at the Soulbringers, the commandant put herself at ease and began to wonder why she had doubted them in the first place.

She cleared her throat once more. "Take whichever route you think is best, whether as a group or individually, but please make sure to be careful and take good care of yourselves and each other. Gunther," she commanded, "prepare to see them off. As for the rest, good luck. Let me know if you need anything."

Xethyrion ERode lunar_moth Worthlessplebian Reinhardt Mqueserasera

 

[Worthlessplebian]

hákon strickland

— the coille custodian —

Inanimate like a tree, Hákon stood whilst absorbing all the opinions and decisions of his compatriots. Their points had merit but ultimately, it was not for them alone to decide. Despite the arguments presented, the Guardian's favoured plan did not suffer many alterations. A dismissive grunt came out of the Guardian, signalling the warrior's distaste for prolonging the inevitable. The waiting did not bother Hákon, the lack of decisiveness was the root cause.

Before he could utter a word, Yutera had taken their attention. Not unlike a firefly against the starless night sky. Her word had perhaps stowed the preconceptions about the former monarch in the others but an ardent policy that Hákon has: is to suffer no treachery. A saying would best encapsulate his feelings on the matter. "Look like the innocent flower, but be the serpent under it."

"As you wish." He bowed to the floral commandant then the arborous claw on his left hand coiled around his signature spear. As always he vacates the premises and chooses to wait for the others at their departure.

Xethyrion NinetaiIsIX ERode lunar_moth Reinhardt Mqueserasera

 

[Arkangel]

gunther

— the knowledge seeker —

The first words to leave Gunther's lips upon seeing his master's awakening was their very own name without honorifics, followed by his ridiculous amount of worry for her declining health. He had wished that she would've remained rested until the objective was over and bring Sirus for questions, but this would do for now.

Gunther then responded to Zeviene, Endymion, and Siara's concerns first, "Our greatest priority... and I say this with great shame, is to rescue Sirus Thorvein and make sure that his safety is absolute. We fight for the people, but our objective is to end the reign of the Dark Hero and to do that, we need every valuable asset we can gather. The King of Sartauron is too important of an individual to disregard for the safety of the people. The King is certainly our primary target, but we cannot leave the borders unattended. The soldiers are fighting bravely to defend their lasting empire, and to let it dry of their blood would bring great shame to us. Which is why we'll split our groups in two, which I shall explain the purpose of during our way to the sky docks."

After assuring that he was going to take the lead from here on out throughout the mission, the marsupial led the soulbringers towards the exit of the commandant's chamber, realizing that time was not in their favor as the battle was fast concluding in the southern borders, according to his magical clones that laid their eyes and ears near the primary battlefield.

"I managed to prepare the wyverns in advance, so we'll use them to reposition ourselves at the skies of the main battle, as you all have suggested. I apologize for not allowing preparations, but I'm afraid that the strife in the southern borders is not leaning towards Aeslengard's favor as we speak. I'm certain that you won't have any issues with diving straight into the enemy's frontlines, Sariavyn?" Gunther chuckled, indicating that he wanted Sariavyn to toss herself into the frontline and serve her purpose.

Gunther continued to issue orders in advance as the group sprinted towards the sky docks. "Zeviene, you'll be the tank that'll assist the Aeslengardian forces to push out the Integrity Knights from further advancing into the borders. Zeviene, Sariavyn, and Siara will work together as our primary vanguard force. You three will have one objective—pave the way for the rest of us to find and locate Sirus through stealth, and retrieve him for the greater good."

Upon leading the group to the docks, Gunther used a common spell to lure the wyverns towards his height, casting an order into the wyvern's consciousness. Through this particular magic, Gunther was able to command the wyverns without needing to waste any more time than they had.

Each wyvern could support up to three individuals, and so they divided the dragons equally to minimize presence in the air. After a quick preparation, the wyverns would adjust themselves into the air and dash into the atmosphere, trusting its riders to hold onto their equipment firmly for the sake of their own safety, as the wind was not kind to those that lacked concerns for their life.

The first wyvern occupied Gunther, Endymion, and Hákon.

The second wyvern would have the company of Zeviene, Sariavyn, and Siara.

"We'll be able to view the battlefield within 10 minutes! Zeviene and her squad will drop first to assist the Aeslengardian forces, and Endymion and Hákon will follow through with our plans to stealth through the forests. Siara and I will keep our squads updated by connecting our mana path, which will allow us to stay communicate without having to resort to physical contact."

Khocolatte ERode lunar_moth Worthlessplebian Reinhardt Mqueserasera

 

[ERode]

Well, a useful sadsack was still a sadsack in the end, and though Yutera was right in pointing out Sirus’s efforts to help his own people integrate better with society in Aeslengard, it didn’t change the fact that he was doing so only out of necessity. Also didn’t change the fact that he was part of the problem of Sartauron culture to begin with. Fucking kings and their bullshit. Could respect their propensity for aggressive action but their motivations sucked donkey balls.

Clarity was good though, and with clarity came purpose. Find and retrieve Mr. No-Longer-King-Sirus above all else, and leave the men down below to keep slaving away afterwards. Zeviene crunched on a handful of nuts, grinding them into a paste between her molars, and grimaced. Gunther, that furry bastard, thankfully was astute enough to put her on the vanguard and put her far away from the task of actually retrieving Sirus. She nodded along his assimilation of everyone’s individual thoughts. Endymion and tree man were in fact ideal for something stealthy, especially with the former’s unique set of skills, while angry-slayer-woman was probably raring for some action anyhow. And for all of Siara’s concerns over the life of the king, a bleeding heart such as herself would probably end up half-killing herself over healing all the run-of-the-mill infantry in the battlefield anyhow. Almost a pain, really.

But that woman’s persistence turned idiocy into sainthood. Fuckers who say that you can’t save everyone were the same fuckers who said you can’t change the fabric of reality, after all. Fuck em all.

And with those thoughts in her heart, Zeviene found herself far above the battlefield, watching a mass of blue and orange push and pull against each other like two competing amoebae. She drew in a breath of the thin air, frost lacing her dark brown hair, and felt the energy within her body warm up. Good. The food was doing its job. She clenched her hands, calculated wind speed, direction, and all the other factors influencing her drop down, and nodded.

“So like, anyways, I’ll clear the landing zone near the front for y’all.” She furrowed her brow in concentration, before just settling for looking pointedly in the direction of the dark-skinned Slayer. “It’s ten thousand percent easier to just break their lines by squishing the ints, so don’t waste time trynna rack up a kill count, yeah? And Siara, I’ll let you handle the tracking.”

Zeviene nodded one last time and then leaned off to one side until she naturally slipped off the wyvern’s saddle.

The world flew up to meet her, the atmosphere itself tearing against her deep purple robes. Beneath, war and carnage awaited, composed largely of people driven by tyranny and necessity. Conscripted soldiers, pushed into a war for survival that would’ve been better served if they united instead. Fools, the lot of them. Fools pushed to this brink by madmen and assholes, proving that even a godless apocalypse could not sear away the archaic oppression of feudal regimes. Her anger rose and crystallized as the temperature around her grew hotter and hotter, magic coursing through her veins to activate the fate-ordained class that stained her very soul.

Zeviene struck the ground between two Vragathian soldiers, having mapped out her descent so that there was no chance, regardless of the endless variables present in the sky and the battlefield, of her foot crushing anyone beneath.

All lives are sacred; she would only take what she must.

Twin shockwaves burst out from the epicenter of her landing, as energy that should have been directed back into her own body was redirected outwards, a double-impact that sounded like the echoes of thunder within a mountain’s cavern. Even if they could’ve braced themselves for it, none in the area could have withstood it, and the blast forcefully flung every Vragathian soldier out of a thirty-meter radius around Zeviene. Armored as they were, they would only be stunned from the event itself, but that too was her intent.

After all, this was just her rolling out the carpet.
Xethyrion NinetaiIsIX lunar_moth Reinhardt Mqueserasera Worthlessplebian

 

[lunar_moth]

Endymion watches Zeviene slip towards the ground from his own perch on the wyvern, and he feels rather than sees her hit the ground. Though she was far enough away that only the intended circle of Integrity Knights were affected by the blast (ever the strategist, ever the fighter, that one), Endymion can still feel the lingering shock-rattles of energy surge through his body. It's exhilarating, in a way.

Endymion twists himself around to make eye contact with the man seated behind him. The wind buffets his hair and nearly draws away his next words, but there's an almost-playful glimmer in his eyes when he says;

"Ready when you are, Strickland." And with that, he cants himself to the right of the wyvern's body and drops.

Wind rushes his ears. He only has a matter of seconds before the life-bare shapes of the forest meet his weight.

One. With his left hand, Endymion reaches out, out, past this current dimension and into the fibres of one just beyond; the Velificatio Selene finds its way into his grip, just like it always does, and in a single fluid motion he tosses it over his back and tightens it around his collar. Immediately, the dusky fabric begins to fade itself away, and Endymion is swallowed up by the reflection of the sky around him. The wind whips and catches its edges.

Two. Endymion tears his body upwards and twists his legs around to come something close to underneath him. His feet are staggered in the air, knees are bent in anticipation for what comes next.

Three. With the hand that isn't keeping the cloak clutched around his neck, the mage thrusts out a hand towards the earth and pulls. A crest of water follows the motion, and the wave reaches up as if to catch him. Endymion lands in its grip and the water moves with him; it rolls with him and brings him to a smooth descent, never letting him go till he's close enough and his feet first meet the ground. Endymion bends his knees and hips to absorb some of the momentum as he leans forward, catches the ground in his hands and falls into a rolling stop.

The wave disperses as quickly as it came when he surges to his feet. Any lingering droplets on his body freeze into flakes of ice; they crumble away and fall back to the dirt in an instant. The water leaves dark stains on the dirt where it lands, dried pale from its moisture being so rudely stolen away.

Endymion heaves a breath into his lungs. He gives himself half a moment, tugs his cloak's hood over his head, then he's off, plunging further into the depths of the old forest. Smooth sheets of ice form under the leather-grip of his shoes with every step -- his feet are nearly silent as he weaves through the tree trunks that surround all sides.

His gaze flits from side to side, searching for-- something, anything that may be a lead into Sirus's whereabouts. A shred of ripped cloak, snagged on the broken end of a branch. A notch from a dagger carved into the side of a trunk. Instead, his eyes lock onto a flash of orange approaching from the distance -- Vragathian soldiers, making a cowardly getaway through the forest, by the looks of it. There are two of them that he can see, and they don't appear to have noticed Endymion in their haste.

Endymion doesn't give them a chance to. He lunges closer to them, and hurls out a hand. This time, the water he calls comes from the canteen strapped close to his side, and it hurriedly curls around the soldiers' lower bodies, freezing them in place to the ground.

The moisture out of Endymion's hand stripped, he flexes his fingers, feeling the split and burn of dry skin across his knuckles.

"Hákon!" he calls back, without turning his head from where his gaze locks onto the stunned soldiers. He doesn't need to turn and check; merely trust that Hákon would be following, watching and ready to make the next move, like he always was.

...

Xethyrion NinetaiIsIX ERode Reinhardt Mqueserasera Worthlessplebian

 

[Mqueserasera]

SIARA ASHWORTH

Xethyrion Worthlessplebian ERode lunar_moth Reinhardt



Gradually the beats of the wyvern’s wings were drowned out by clashes of metal and cries of men – the smell, the sound, the very dreadful sensation that invades the deepest corner in one’s heart, and nurtures in there terror and thirst for blood. Siara cast down her gaze from atop the wyvern, from which the battlefield was on full display. She steeled her heart, as for years she had been conditioned to do at the approach of war. War, now that’s a place befitting death. Open wounds, severed limbs, trailing organs, and pools of blood seem at home in such a place. All the worst nightmares in the world are concentrated in this special hell, where brave men and women gather to keep this hell contained.

There is no salvation for men and women of war – they are the damned. Since long ago, Siara had forgone excuses and pretension. To kill is to sin, no matter for what noble purpose the murdering is done. But this sin she would shoulder, if only to save one more soul in Eden from the reach of war.

“Farewell now, wyvern. May fate be kind to you” to the beast she whispered, her voice swept away by the high gusts, her own fate uncertain.

She nodded to Zeviene's words and face the battlefield. With a deep breath, she plunged into the endless chaos down below and dropped like an arrow loosed downwards, roaring air filled her ears. At an appropriate distance from the ground, she mouthed the needful words and the wind broke her fall and carried her gently, but she steered herself after Zeviene. Seconds later Siara touched the ground not far from the girl, just within the radius of the depression the Armorer’d made in the middle of the battlefield.

There she was again, where lives are taken and trampled on. The ground to the rim of the depression, where the Vragathia soldiers were pushed off, was littered with the debris of war – bits of chipped-off armors, broken spears, and shattered shields buried under them remains of the dead.

“Waste no time hunting for the Integrity Knights. They will come to us!”

Siara thrust her right hand to the sky, and from the open palm, a blinding light was born. The light grew and grew, brighter and harsher, until it could be seen from far and wide. Came with it was a mighty sound, pulsing and echoing like a great bell, calling to attention everyone with ears to hear.

“Let us light a shining beacon for all! So they may know even in this hell they’ve made, hope will yet prevail!”

The light and the sound lasted in full effect for a few moments, striking fear and unease to the faint of heart, but served mainly to announce the arrival of a formidable force to anyone who hadn’t taken note of Zeviene’s blasts.

Siara then reached out, her mind traced the mana link between her and Gunther. “We’ve gathered all the attention we can. Please make haste to the King,” she passed over the message and turned her gaze to the horizon, bracing for the coming enemy.

 

[Spookyy-]

Mei Akamono

— NINTH CHILD OF THE DRAGON —

The wind howled, gusts of air pushing the skyline further and further to make way for the afternoon sun. The glimmering light shone down upon the Yurtivel Cathedral today. Standing by at the entrance, several thousand feet at the air was a black-haired woman of average stature, heavily armored and stoic-- remaining still like a great tree at the top of the canopy, looking down below at lower levels of its great forest. Supposedly... it was supposed to be a normal day for the reserved and withdrawn warrior, nothing big was exactly on her agenda so she was free and disposed to do anything other than stand watch for the day. Nonetheless, she insisted to the Guard Captain that she continue to stand here, not even taking what should have been a day off to rest.

Upon such an insistence, the captain relented, shaking his head, wondering why he even bothered giving such an option to her. She has yet to take a single day off for her in her three years of service, what was supposed to change that right now? While reminisicing, she also took note of another set of instructions that the captain had for her besides standing at the gate-

"Later today, head to sky docks to receive the Wyverns that will be returning from a combat drop-off and lead them back to their resting place. The men who were supposed to do that have fallen under the weather, so we need the extra manpower there."

She of course readily took on the extra burden of work, wanting to make herself as useful as possible to the place that housed her. That is why when she noticed the same winds that normally howl above the lofty earth increase in speed and intensity, she glanced over to another similarly-armored guard that was approaching her from her right. With a short nod and a salute, she marched off to the sky docks.

. . .​

"Woah, there big fella!" a wyvern-hand had tried lead the enormous beast back into its holding cage by forcefully pulling at its lead. As much as he tugged away at it, it wouldn't budge, only snorting at the idea that such a tiny creature could possibly order around a large beast like itself. Mei, rushing over to see such a sight, began to quickly doff her armor so that she could move more freely to assist, and as soon as she was seen on sight the man turned over to her asking:

"Can you give me a little help over here?"

Witnessing the man not learning his lesson and continuing to aggressively trying to move the riding dragon, she shook her head in dismay. "You can't just use the stick to force something to go your way. You have to offer a carrot to give it an incentive to follow you." She removed his hand off of the lead before turning her attention back toward the big guy.

"Come on now~" she stroked underneath its chin, tenderly soothing the dragon, attempting to lull it into submission. The initial indifference that it gave off for the poor handler turned into admiration towards her, as she began to lead off the first dragon with a smile.

She then turned her attention to the second dragon used in today's drop-off flight, as her eyes met its own, something must have sparked within the little wyvern beast's head as it began to waddle onto the landing pad towards Mei. Its mannerisms were similar to that of an oversized dog as it playfully licked the cheek of its proper handler, jumping up and down, shifting between its legs on its right and left side. At this sensation and trembling, Mei felt a bit flushed by the dragon's affection for her, patting it on the head-- At least someone here is excited to see me-- she thought in her head.

"Alright, alright. That enough nooooowwww--!" she tried to lead it back towards its cage before she could feel its mouth surrounding her face, picking her up the ground and tossing it on its back. Landing with a soft thud, Mei tried to get off the back of the beast but it flared its wings, spreading them out for flight-- and took off in that same instant she landed.

As the sudden flow of air pushed down on her, pressing down on her body while they were soaring in the air, she tried to reach out and grab the lead that was supposedly over the bridge of its nose before realizing--

"Bastard--" she cursed, "when he came towards me the lead slipped off in his excitmee---" she instantly closed her mouth, hoping not to bite her tounge off.

She continued to wrestle for control over the dragon with her own means, but she hasn't even spent a day in the air herself. She almost has no idea how to handle or control a wyvern mid-flight. All she could do is bark orders at it--

"Turn us right around this instant! Or I'll--" she stopped herself, knowing it was useless. Whatever was going on inside its brain, she could not even fathom of communicating with such a beast. She might as well be talking to a wall or a flying carpet, either way-- it wasn't going to listen to her. Turning back towards the Cathedral she noticed that the floating fortress became smaller and smaller with each passing second, as they continued to flee wherever this fantastic beast wanted to drop her off by.

"Come on I'm serious--" she lightly struck the back of the dragon's neck, only for it to roar in slight irritation, before turning itself over one hundred eighty degrees in the air, dropping its cargo miles-high up from the sky.

So this is it. Death by flying accident. She let out a massive sigh, she knew that one day her time would come. For all the sins she has committed upon this foul world, this is probably some sort of karmic justice being dealt out. What's the old saying again--? Live as the dragon, die by a dragon? No... that can't possibly be it. But did it even matter? Gravity would do its work, even if she reached terminal velocity, all she could do is wait out the rest of her time before she comes crashing down again. Closing her eyes, she wanted to drift off into that eternal sleep...

...​

Wait a minute. She could grow a pair of wings as well!

She tried to transform, trying to bring back the old, boiling emotions that pushed her over the edge. Hot air pushed against her as she began to plummet even faster into the earthen terrain. Closing her eyes and clutching her legs, bracing for impact— she wanted to imagine that the same force would veer her off from imminent catastrophe. As she broke through the upper cloud barrier, where great white puffs of clouds dipped down exposing a Mei-shaped hole, she tightly shut her eyes as the air pushing against her became too harsh to bear.

Yet, as air continued to flow past her, she didn't appear to be one inch ever closer to the ground. Confused, she tried to flap her arms around, wondering if the laws of physics were just buffering around her. Suddenly, as if to answer her question-- a great yellow light broke through the clouds, and a roaring voice boomed throughout the air--

“Why do you seek to cause more chaos? Isn’t the proper atonement for your crimes a true death? Why is it that you have attained forgiveness from others? Is that what fuels you? Is it? Are you so desperate that you would draw upon power you have no knowledge of?”

Her eyes widened, remembering how lonely she really was at that village. As she aged and matured, those around her grew more distant. They were suspicious of this black-haired brute when all around them were fair, gentle, and kind folks like themselves. In order to fit in, she played the role that was handed to her, and bruised up a bunch of the older children to prove her worth and value in their eyes. Oh ,this must be some sort of judgement test, I don't even want to respond, I can't deal with something like this—

She could not deny her own desire to fit in, the words that this voice said rang true for her— remaining silent hoping that she could just curl up and disappear, hoping that this specter would just give up tormenting her.

To her dismay, the voice continued, growing ever more impatient, wanting an answer out of her.

“You have sought the attention of others, earning their gaze either in fear, awe, or disgust. Yet— I ponder, what is it that you have for yourself? Do you wish to live? Or do you live because others want that for you? Do you kill for your own sake, or is it part of the narrative you wish to fulfill for others to see?”

Her chest tightened as she looked for a response, as she might as well play along with this ghostly voice, clutching both of her shoulders— she heard that line of thought a million times. When imprisoned by the Soulbringers, it was those questions that plagued her. Why did she live? What allowed her to keep moving on? Was she yet absolved of her sins? Did those things even matter? Why is she chasing after it?

“It is because I want to have proof that I am alive— that the fire I started doesn’t burn out into embers!” She howled verbalizing the conclusion she brought about during her years of captivity. When she became disgusted of the crying mess that she was reduced too— was it not her alone who pulled herself out of the brink of despair?

“Yet you were nothing but pond scum leeching off others, unable to act for yourself. Incompetent until the very end, even when given a speck of power you ruined everything.”

The fire she caused at the village, she could feel her chest expand as the sensation of the flames filled mind, ever scream of agony piercing through her skull as her own flames consumed and destroyed everything around her. Even today, when she handled the wyverns too fondly, hopefully trying to steal its affection for herself, along with the other microcosms of microfailures that she had committed over the years have all been rushing back into her mind.

“Even so—! All that I have trained afterwards, all that I have sought so far— has been of my own volition, of my own will to live! As small as it may be— it is a brilliant flame that everyone around me has, and it is what I found for myself in that accursed jail! Perhaps I have been supported on by others, perhaps at every stage of my life, but my desire to keep striving forward is all my own!”

She finally spat out her answer, gasping for air at such a high altitude, as her chest expands and contracts, she felt as if a little weight has been released off her, and to reinforce this fact, that same sparkling like now brilliantly shown in front of her.

“The will to live. The most basic and innate feeling that conscious beings have. Yes... that is the beginning of the answer you are looking for.

“Very well. I will release the first seal placed upon you upon this revelation. Come— scream out it’s name.”

As soon as that voice finished its sentence, gravity began to drag the poor helpless girl down to Eden's soil once again. The blinding light dissipated, as the clouds shuffled back in to fill the gap that she created, she could feel her body being guided by that same warm light, as if she absorbed it for herself. Now nosediving down, her mind was filled with a single thought-- it was a short phrase formed in her head, supposedly given to her by that same mysterious force. It was so powerful-- that this phrase was able to play tricks on her mind, appearing before her for full display. Blinking once or twice to see if she could get rid of it, she eventually gave up-- and read it out loud--

"The Will to Stand Up Straight:
ADVENT: ■■■■■■■
Tail of the ■■■■■■ ■■■■■■"​

The Gate has opened slightly, go forth and live free.
​

What was that? She didn't even understand what came out of her mouth. Something about an advent and a gate? She shook her head, thinking she just said some silly little battle cry, but— whatever it was, it worked. As golden-orange flames engulfed her body as she came hurling down like a meteor, she could feel two massive bone structures popping out from the back of her shoulder-blades.

Large, white scaly wings had unraveled themselves, extending further more than two arm-spans of the girl wore bears them. They began to flap in the opposite direction of her fall, trying to create more drag to lessen the impact-- yet she continued to hurl towards the ground. As more and more of the world came into her vision, she could recognize the little dots down below--

Sir Strickland! Lady Zeviene! She could easily make out the living tree standing far away from its forest and the companions it brought with it-- but her momentary relief that help would be so near to her-- she almost forgot to look ahead to the actual tree canopy that she crash landed into. Like a shooting star from above, she crash landed behind allied lines into the forest behind them, setting the wood aflame, creating a smoking, smoldering crater where she landed.

It was after this initial impact that she passed out, struggling to maintain consciousness-- she could feel the plated scales that formed on her chin disappearing, along with the wings that sprouted along with her. She was alone in the thicket of the woods, but-- she was still quite alive.

Arkangel Worthlessplebian ERode lunar_moth Reinhardt Mqueserasera

 

[Worthlessplebian]

hákon strickland

— the coille custodian —

The Drake had arrived towards his destination. Hákon stood up from his saddle, taking in the rush of air. Although thin, the currents managed to exhilarate his soul. The magnificent animal hovered over the drop-point as Hákon stepped forward. The view filled his eyes, the greenery reminding him of his sacred duty. Hákon spun his arborous spear before placing it over his dendriform arm. His arm sprung vines which tightened the spear around it. His arms spread out like an eagle, his right foot hung in the open sky. Hákon began to lean forward, the left ankle extending upwards. And he fell.

Hákon shuttered his arms to his body, becoming a living arrow of greenery. The eye-holes in his helmet produced a waxy, translucent film that stopped the wind rushing into his eyes. Freefalling... No, this is dive-bombing. Hákon mimicked the avian predators of the forests. When he reached the desired speed and altitude, Hákon gripped his leathery cloak; his back muscles pulled mightily to upright. Simultaneously, Hákon extended his arms. This helped him curve his trajectory and also slowed his fall.

Then he reached the trees, reflexively lifting his treelike arm to block the debris. Then he met the ground intimately. He suffered no injuries, albeit bruising on his body. His prosthetic was missing a chunk of its' bark, but that will regrow by the time he meets his enemies.

------

Hákon had executed foes that were trapped by a comrade. He began to make his way hastily to the King, wherever that might be.

------

Some time into the Soulbringer's incursion into the enemy, Hákon had managed to move further ahead than his fellows. The next event was not of his doing, nor could he have prevented it. A ginormous mass of flames crashed into an area near them. It set the forest ablaze, enraging Hákon's senses which in turn enraged him as well. His muscles sprung into action. His sprint was that of a tiger. The flames threatened to kill him. They were incapable from his point of view.

In no time at all, he had managed to find the crater of the impact. His feet burned from the heat, but he continued. In the centre of the impact was another member of the Soulbringers. Hákon did not know much about her as his time alongside Yutera did not allow him much leeway. But he knew her name, and he was furious. "Mei Akamono..." He called out once. She did not appear to have any major injuries, at least to Hákon's eyes. Her breathing seemed steadied; the smoke posed a danger to her unconscious form. He lifted the spear above his head. It cut the air as Hákon drove it into the ground beside her head. There will be time for reprimands later.

Arkangel Spookyy- NinetaiIsIX

 

[_Line 213]

annelia lastelle du lema

— the vexknight —

The clamor of hoofbeats beat heavily against the forest road, bright hair and red fabric tossed by the rushing wind as a lone rider coursed urgently between the trees. Their steed snorted heavily in tandem with its own footfalls, the beast pushed very nearly to its breaking-point as its master, low upon their saddle, stared unflinchingly ahead.

This skirmish, she thought, there is no doubt. This will be the one.

It was nearly certain that her absence had been felt in Vragathia by then. She had taken pains to hide the rationale behind her leaving, constructing a "special assignment" for herself along with all necessary details, but the more time she took, the less likely, she could only assume, the other Regalias would be to buy such a rationale. Though they may have been equals in even numbers, as a lone dissenter Annelia would only be able to put up so much of a fight for so long. The Vexknight of Vragathia briefly shut her visible eye, feeling the rhythm of the running horse beneath her. Memories of an impossibly-long pair of centuries flashed through her mind. Several ages, several lifetimes worth of strife and war, perpetuated by a mere handful of souls. Not the slightest twinge of regret crossed her thoughts along with her reminiscence--not for the past, and not for the future.

And yet, there was still something, something, rumbling on the horizon of her mind. Perhaps a sadness, tied to the thoughts of those she may soon be positioning herself against. Perhaps an apprehension; if the Remnants Soulbringer were truly to appear, would they take to her pleas, her assurances of honesty? What good was the word of one who trafficked in nearly naught but lies? If no pact could be forged, and her intentions were made clear to Vragathia, where would that leave her?

The knight's eye snapped open, and she intensified her clutch upon the reigns. Annelia Lastelle du Lema had not felt fear in over one-hundred years. Perhaps she had merely forgotten what it felt like.

With a wild cry, her horse began to slide to a stop as it approached the thick underbrush. Despite her armor, the Vexknight lept from her steed with uncanny grace, dark plating and wine-like cloth disappearing into the underbrush as she shot forward with a speed that rivaled that of the animal itself. Her keen mind reached back for the maps she had studied, and in tandem with her findings she changed direction in a pinpoint turn, shifting her dash in an instant as she made for a nearby rocky outcropping. Reaching the base, she directed her speed upward, leaping from stone to stone as she climbed the cliff-face in record time, breaking through the tree layer and landing atop the small plateau, reintroduced to the breeze.

Steadying her breathing and her pace, she walked toward the edge of the small rise, her form briefly shimmering as she obscured her form from potential prying eyes. Now appearing to be naught but open air, she knelt at the precipice, her blue eye glancing out at the field and forest as her Astral Armament slept beneath her armored eyepatch. Surveying the field came easily enough to her; such was one of the first things she had learned when it became clear that she was to lead the forces of a now-fallen king. The presence of the Integrity Knights meant that this was not to meant to be any ordinary battle, and the specific personnel she had been expecting to show based on the papers that had crossed her desk only reinforced that notion.

...Yet, where are they?

Her attention briefly shifted to the fire brewing at the edge of the forest--a massive one at that. The Integrity Knights would not be so careless, this she knew. Perhaps someone was attempting to flank Vragathia's main forces. Dangerous, yet bold, and with much potential for damage. The others appeared to be drawing their attention, no doubt preparing to face the enemy army immediately while the others continued their own mission. Their armor was unorthodox, and even from afar, she could sense the brewing potential within them. Briefly, she clenched her gauntlets. The Soulbringers were there after all. Immediately, she locked her watchful eye upon the unfamiliar front-line; it would not be the first time that she had clashed with such adventurers, but this would be the first time that she would be evaluating them under a new, critical lens. If they could not pass this trial, then they would be useless to not only her own purposes, but the purposes of Eden and its last bid for freedom.

...Very well, she thought, slowly moving to stand, let us truly see how well the Remnants Soulbringer stand against Vragathia.

 

[Spookyy-]

Mei Akamono

— NINTH CHILD OF THE DRAGON —

Stars: Celestial objects millions of lightyears away from planets. Far away, they’re a sight to behold, gems of a pitch black night. These flaming balls of gas emit waves that travel far out into the vast unknown just to provide its rays to the retinas of the naked eye. They’re so beautiful, yet so isolated. One cannot directly bear their pupils at it without literally burning the picture into their eyes.

Something that seems so beautiful from afar, yet deadly when properly gleaned... it—

“It’s so pretty isn’t it—?” an inquisitive young child exhaled out in awe as they naively watched the night sky. Laying under the protection of a great old tree, it’s leaves sheltering the child, while partially blocking out some of the midnight sky— only to have gaps of light seep through in between. They had blonde hair and blue eyes that reflected the dazzle of the stars, sparks and brilliant light reflected off their retinas.

Beside them, was an older child, whose red eyes were yet to be lit aflame, yet the tinder for such an ignition was slowly being gathered around them. They were resting their head on Eden’s soil as well, their head cradled by their hands as she stretched out her arms, stretching them out as to separate her head from the dirt. Beside them was a long, worn-down spear as old as it’s owner, supposedly, being something that they had grown up with since birth.

“Yeah, they really ar— Hey, Look at that—!” she quickly removed her hands from behind her head to push her upper body off the ground, pointing out what had just passed through the sky.

“A meteorite! The tail it left behind is a sight to behold—!” the child next to her exclaimed, also bearing witness to it.

“But— will it ever land somewhere though—? It might be something that we get to see from afar, but it might be someone else’s problem—“ the younger girl tilted their head to the side, signifying their befuddlement.

The other girl paused for a moment, wanting to give an immediate answer, yet the tone of sincerity the other one gave her meant that they were probably searching for a legitimate answer. They were a sickly child, always confined to their bed during the day weak and feverish. Days like this then were very special and treasured by her. It was when they didn’t have to worry about being a burden or another mouth to feed that is being kept alive solely based of the intrinsic value and love for all life. They were free to live and take in nature’s natural beauty like a normal person.

After giving it some deep though for a minute, (before giving up), she finally gave a proper answer to the younger girl that she could come up with:

“The small, tiny bit of destruction it might cause, would be guppies to the opportunity to get to know something really truly special. It’s not everyday that stars fall onto Eden. Trying to avoid a temporary loss sacrifices the potential from it.”

“Oh— that... sounds a bit too deep for you, Mei,” the younger girl giggled.

“What—?” the older girl huffed. “I’m just trying to say you shouldn’t worry about the drawbacks of something so grand— it’s brilliance justifies its existence.”

But— as the words poured out her mouth, at some point, she had to admit— she was just parroting the words and phrases given down to her from her master.

That old man really loved to call her a “shooting star,” for the village. From afar— she was a sight to behold, disciplined in broad daylight, but a disaster waiting to unfold when left alone to smolder and rot on the ground. Of course, she left that part out when explaining it to the younger daughter of her adoptive family.

Yet— neither of them knew how devastating a ground-zero impact really can be.

...

“i’M hErE to HelP—!”
“iTs mE, hiKarii—!”
“i WanNa ProTecT yoU—!”
“stOp rUnNinG aWayYY!!!”

“Father and mother were right about you—!!!”

That piercing scream, for a moment, rang in the ears of its intended audience, drowning out the continuing blaze that surrounded the both of them. If the wisps of flames were the melody to this tragedy, the accompanied footsteps, both heavy and light from the two figures, served as the underlying bass.

As they circled around the outside house that they lived in for their entire lives, as the walls was being eaten away by the flames. The younger girl darted back inside, rushing to their parents’ side as the partially transformed Mei broke in, leaving a trail of smoke and cinders behind her.

Hikari, coughing due to the smoke, yet gasping for air because of the exhaustion— tried to sink away behind her parents to shield her. Yet, their bodies lay dormant on the ground, visible claw wounds left on their bodies, their clothes a feast for the flames. Hikari tried to shake her parents to wake them up, but figuring out that it was pointless to struggle against the beast that chased her— she spent the last embers of her life yelling:

“You call yourself a human, but you’re nothing but a freak—! Your weird eyes and hair, your continued drive to become more powerful... and look where we are— you’ve shown your real colors here!”

“And now you’ve gone and taken everything from me—!
You’ve taken my place as my parents’ beloved child!
You’ve taken my place as the village favorite and sweetheart!
You’ve taken so much from others— yet you still don’t find it enough for you! You don’t ever seem to be satisfied or content with yourself, yet you hypocritically claim that all of it is for our collective good!
You’re a monster that shouldn’t even be alive—!!”

“nO yOuR wrOng!”
“aRgHhH—!”
“jUsT rEsT! iT’lL be FinE!”

Mei grabbed Hikari, but misjudging the frailty of the younger girl, she cracked her body in her arms as she went limp, leaning forward into the dragon girl’s armor—

Her eyes shaking, arms trembling as she held her sister in her arms, she let out a great roar of grief as the structure of the building she was inside came crashing down upon her.

. . .

Her eyes fluttered open, the act of mourning over the first lives she claimed while going berserk forcing her awake—

She leaned forward, holding her hand to her chest, desperately gasping for air. She looked around her, a familiar set of flames had swirled around her, along with a great fire that engulfed her peripheral vision, only to be blocked by a great spear so close to her head.

Blinking her eyes, she clenched her fists, preparing to partake in an impromptu brawl with whoever didn’t go for her head— only to see that a certain tree sage was looking down at her furiously.

“Ah— Sir Strickland, w-what a surprise—!” she exclaimed, disoriented from literally crashing into the ground from the altitude of the Cathedral above, yet— what should have been an unsurvivable fall that would have put her into a coma, seemed no more than a mediocre light-bump to her head that put her out of commission for a few minutes.

She tried to bring herself to her feet, clasping into the spear that was stuck in the ground beside her, wanting to believe that it was that short burst of sound which woke her up, her hands, still laced with residual flame, spreading to the spear that she touched.

“Forgive my surprise entrance, Sir—“ she finally got back to her usual disciplined and hard tone of voice she took serving guard at the cathedral’s entrance. She was relying on the spear for support, before reaching down, extending her arm to another long wooden stick being consumed by flames, planting it into the ground, and relying on it to remain standing, before wincing in pain, hunching over her back.

How pitiful she must be to the man in front of her, that she must be escorted personally instead of left to work autonomously in good faith. She clenched the makeshift spear, the searing heat surrounding her, the blistering pain of the flames licking at her skin— all of which should have been clear signs for her to go back to sleep, have only served to keep her awake, as she once again lifted the great flaming tree branch out of the ground. Huffing and grunting as she maintained a rigid standby formation, leaning the makeshift polearm against her left shoulder, saluting to him— surrounded by both a blazing wildfire both externally and within the red pupils of her eyes, she was definitely serious, if not— extremely foolish, to continue on combat to endure through with fighting as if she just got warmed up.

“I’ve made an unexpected arrival, but remain combat ready— please, give me your orders for the time being,” using all of her Will to Stand Up Straight.

Arkangel NinetaiIsIX Worthlessplebian

 

[Worthlessplebian]

hákon strickland

— the coille custodian —

The tree-sage, Hákon, knelt next to Mei. Preparing to take her away from this hellish pit. Before he could even pull his hand over her body, however, an interesting presence had tingled the Druid's spine. His body shot up immediately, his senses heightened by the sudden surge of adrenaline. Unfortunately, the impenetrable trails of smoke made it impossible for Hákon to sleuth out the interloper. If there even was an interloper. This heat could be playing tricks on his senses after all. Hákon remained on alert. Attempting to move Mei would be risky, especially if that's what the presence wanted.

Then Mei awoke. Hákon, surprised, had assumed that she would require medical attention at least. For an infinitesimal second, Hákon's instincts had recognized Mei's tensing as a threat. But relented when she spoke her words. Her grasp towards the Druid's weapon made him squint his eyes; the flames would set the pointed weapon ablaze.

As the dancing blaze crawled up his spear, it cried out to Hákon with ear-shattering fury. It took a significant amount of will to silence the agony. Even greater to restrain his body from beating Mei back into unconsciousness. The fur pelt that, Hákon, lovingly crafted from Nature's children—Nature's gift to him—was singed from the inferno. If he lingered any longer with his companion Soulbringer, his arborous arm would surely char too. His stance became rigid and readied. His sweat pores opened fully to alleviate his elevated bodily temperature.

Mei asked for orders from him—of all people. "We have begun the incursion into Regalia territory. King Sirus is the pack's target: we must rescue him if necessary. You must rest. A tired predator cannot hope to catch his prey." With that said, in his usual monotonous yet stern tone, Hákon extended a hand to Mei if she needed it and began walking away from this infernal place. "Also, if we survive, I would like to see in helping you come to terms with your nature. If you see it fit to do so."

Arkangel Spookyy- Khocolatte _Line 213