Thalia_Neko
Ten Thousand Club
Running through forest, brown leather boots pelted the uneven ground with trained expertise. Then with a strong press off of it, the girl leapt through the air. Height shown more than any regular human could achieve, almost like a bird taking off. She caught a branch, swinging with her momentum, to catch another, and firmly plant herself up in the treetops. Bending low, letting the dark sienna and burnt orange leaves of the Autumn season fall about her to conceal her better. Her outfit was holding together well, made for harsh outdoor excursions and forest fancies just like this. Well, not exactly like this.
Marring Faiglyn's sandy skin were countless little scratches from rushing through branches and bush. A few strands of bright red trickled from where she ran through the angry Violethorns. A beautiful and lush flowering plant that grew with wild, reckless abandon, covered in vexing, tough vines with countless irate thorns. The flora was a well known plant to the Qho Forest. It grew aggressively here, and surrounded much of Qhoun Village, acting as a natural barrier of sorts. Though, for Faiglyn, she had ran the best possible path through them, having learned how to get through the hedge of thorns in the best possible manner long ago. Even her skin had toughened up to their angry scratches and bites.
The elf girl tried to settle down, placing her hand on her chest. Calm her breathing. Steady her heart. The sounds of heavy footfalls were like an earthquake in the forest. What she had just done... Was no less than seen as the gravest of sins. An affront to the entirety of The Church. Even her own mother had disowned her! She watched as a legion of Crusaders in their heavy silver-and-red steel marched through the forest. Crushing all of its wonder underfoot like meaningless trash. Any thorned plants, or other hazards were trampled as if they were totally unregistered as threats. Nothing. Flora, fauna, and the magical, all of which Faiglyn had spent the better part of her life learning to fight, circumvent, and hide from. Nothing to these invaders. A legion of Zealots were with them. In their own white, red, and golden robes, wielding maces, hammers, axes, and cat o' nine tails of "righteous retribution". A phrase uttered so often there wasn't a soul in Eaduxath who hadn't heard it. It was a huge joke. To think anything about these people were "righteous". Though their connection to the gods was hard to argue...
What with Airros enacting retribution immediately against her village. She put her head in her hands. "Oh brother, father... What have I done?" Faiglyn mourned.
"There!!" Came a voice.
She perked up immediately, and glanced towards the sound. A man clad in religious armor was pointing right up at her. "I've got you now, heretic!" He hefted up his crossbow, pointed right at her and pressed the trigger instantly.
For Faiglyn, the momentary shock of being spotted left her, and she sprung away in time to dodge the shot. But the chase was on once again!
She landed on the forest floor, and took off in the direction that there weren't many Zealots and Crusaders. While the group was still adjusting to where "There" was meant to mean, Faiglyn whipped her bow across a Zealot's face who turned her way. The hard wood of her bow made the man spin and collapse, a nasty red mark across his face. He was knocked clean out.
Faiglyn's foot fell right beside the fallen man's head as she bolted without giving him a second look. By now everyone had honed right back in on her, and were in hot pursuit. They were closer this time. So bolts began firing at her.
THUNK! THUNK! THUNK!
The constant thudding of bolts sinking into trees echoed around her, mixed with the whizzing of arrows flying through the air, added to the thunder of footfalls. "Men! Pray to the gods! Ready magicks! Loose!"
Now the hum, hissing, and whishing of spells were added to the symphony.
"Aiehh!" Faiglyn couldn't help but shriek as a bolt of electricity blasted a tree right beside her, blowing splinters off of it right into her face. The heat from it was so intense she could feel it! A fireball subsequently struck a branch right above her. "Ahh!" She shouted again, hands going up to fan the flaming debris that fell on top of her, hitting the ground behind her and catching alight on the dried leaves.
They were serious! They wanted to kill her so bad!
A vine -no- a root ripped out the ground right in front of her, causing her to run right into it. Her chest hit it hard, releasing a grunt of pain. It immediately began to wrap around her. If she allowed it to grab her she'd be done for.
"NO!" She called, slapping her hands against it, and pushing against it. A burst of wind came out of her motion, thrusting her straight up. The surprise of it caused her to flail in the air. But luckily her dexterous, nimble feet caught the top of the root, pushing off of it and landing with much more grace. She took off immediately. Only to glance back at it, with a confused look on her face. Wind magic. She had used Airros' gift. Despite having renounced her priestesshood and caused all this mess.
She was unable to dwell on it long, as a blast of chilled air hit her square in the back. "Unh!" She lurched forward, but kept her pace. Though that little surprised jerk was enough to slow her down for someone to take aim at her. "AIEEYA! Chen'ik!" Faiglyn cursed in Hyu Elf tongue, when a tri-spike of rock sunk into her back calf, right through her leather boots. That was enough to cause her to stumble, falling to one knee.
No. She had to continue! Even with this wound.
She reached back, grabbing the chunk of rock. And after bracing, yanked it out. Biting back another scream. Feeling the wetness of blood flood her boot, she got back up and began running. With a noticeable limping-run from her right foot. But she kept going.
It seemed like she was slowing down though. The Zealots and Crusaders were drawing closer. Their chatter was loud enough to fill her ears now. She didn't want to, but she couldn't help it. She had to fight back.
Running forward, she gripped her bow hard, as if she were squeezing the life out of it. Her eyes would've been on it, if they weren't necessary for avoiding the treacherous woods ahead. She swallowed, reached to the quiver on her back, and pulled out an arrow. She turned back, while still running. Her eyes were needed for something else now. She nocked her arrow, and loosed.
Her shot was as good as ever. The pain in her leg wasn't hampering her aim at all. The arrow sunk right into the opening of the closest Crusader's helmet. Right between his eyes. Blood squished out and around the opening, and the Crusader collapsed. Well, add murder of a Church Crusader to her list of crimes. Needless to say, that was one of the worst you could do, too.
"HEY! SHE KILLED HIM!" Someone shouted.
"THE BITCH!"
"THE WRETCH!"
"GET HER! GET THE HERETIC!"
"Wikx!" She cursed again. That only made it worse. She knocked another arrow and fired, killing another. No backing down now. -Not that she ever intended to.
She fired a third arrow. This one didn't land in that special unarmored place for the eyes. It struck a shoulder. Luckily it was between the pieces of armor, and the woman grunted out in pain, grabbing her arm. But it wasn't her pain that Faiglyn was focused on. It was the sudden darkness that flashed at the corners of her vision.
Tch. She clicked her teeth. Airros' Curse...
She lowered her bow. She knew shooting back was a bad idea. But her few shots she had done, had served her well. Those were the closest Zealots to her, so now she had a good-ish lead. She picked the pace back up, and continued running, this time facing forward.
All this time, arrows and spells had never ceased. So, without focusing on her own targets, they seemed much more prevalent and threatening now. With splinters of bark flying off. Bursts and blasts of spells crashing all around her. Just barely missing. Lethal strikes, pretty much every one. Now that she wasn't focused on her targets, she was focused on them. Their attacks were putting the fear of death into her. It made her heart race, yet fall with despair.
Suddenly, she could see light. Glows, fuzzy glows, cut through branches, and tree trunks ahead of her. Bewildered, Faiglyn wondered what that light was.
She didn't wonder for long. Her feet carried her right out of the forest, hitting hard, dried earth. The moment she stepped out, the dried orange-brown ground cracked. Faiglyn stared down at it, then swiveled her gaze around. She was out of the forest! All behind her, trees so close you could barely see in them. All in front of her, orange-brown ground split into weird plates that were at a slope before her. The weird dusty plates became more jagged and haggard, until jagged rocks were all that laid ahead. And beyond that was spires of rocks nearing the bottom of the ravine. Then the slope inclined up, with the same jagged stone spires. Leading all the way up to a earthy mountainous formation before her. And there...
And there it was. The Dreadbreak.
A giant barrier that sealed off Wraevadar. A cursed, corroded, corrupted expanse. The Jailed Realm. A land of horrors and death. A place no one was ever meant to go.
Faiglyn gulped. Fear gripping her even thinking about the place. Fear that replaced the previous one she was feeling in an instant.
The Dreadbreak itself was scary enough. The name alone brought fear. It was both barrier and locked door. Technically... enterable.
Though no one would ever in their right mind do so.
Still, Faiglyn could hardly believe what she was seeing. The Dreadbreak. Wraevadar. It wasn't close. She had run this far? How long had they been in pursuit? Would they ever give up? She already knew the answer. The Church was not known for being merciful. Maybe in the past, but.. no, not the modern Church. The modern Church had become more and more spartan, more and more radical.
Speaking of. It was the loud, boisterous voices of Crusaders and Zealots that snapped her out of her stupor about what she had just stumbled upon. The elf glanced back behind her. She was seeing movement in the treeline. Behind her, Zealots of The Church. In front, Wraevadar.
What? What could she do?! She didn't have long to decide! Faiglyn glanced up and down the path before her. It was a desolate cracked and spiked land for all the eye could see. And her eyesight was better than humans'. Usually, anyway.
Voices.
"There! The heretic!"
"Get her!"
No choice.
She clenched her teeth and glanced back. She let out a yelp of surprise, tossing her body back to avoid a spell that crashed at her feet.
She had stalled too long, trying to decide what to do. Now more and more Zealots were piling out of the forest. They did not seem perplexed by where they were. All focused only on one thing. The heretic. Her, of course.
They lifted up their crossbows and held up their staffs, scepters, and mediums. Bolts and spells rained down at her.
Faiglyn had no chance to think about defending herself. She just had to. She reacted fast, lifting up her bow. Knocking and loosing arrows in quick succession, she fired them at the bolts. Faiglyn's aim was so good, her arrows clashed against bolts flying her way, knocked clean off course.
This allowed her the time to descend the ravine, towards the spikes of rock. She began bouncing between them, using them as cover for spells flung at her. Rocks blew apart behind her, raining gravel all over her. But she persisted, simply ignoring that. Finally she made it to the bottom. Now it was the trek back up the other side towards... Towards the Dreadbreak.
She grabbed her first earth spike and pulled herself up. The path was hard. And she was finding it was even harder to lift herself up than normal. Her leg was really aching by now. Agonizingly so.
Turns out, at this angle, the spikes of rock barely protected her anymore. She was forced to use her bow once more. However.. it was spells now that she had to defend against.
One that was sailing her way, she focused on. Lifting her bow, Faiglyn put all she had into the arrow. Suddenly winds swirled around it. She loosed. The arrow with wind struck the spell and dissipated it out of the air. Faiglyn was stunned.
But she couldn't remain stunned for long! Faiglyn aimed at the next spell. Did the same. Fired. And dissipated that spell, too. She aimed at the next spell. And the next. Dissipating those. And the next. And that one.
All the while, doing her best to ascend.
"Gah! This bitch!..." One of the Chief Zealots spat, with fury in him. He couldn't fathom what was going on. What she was doing! Arrows knocking bolts out of the air? Normally out of the question, but he had heard of the Dryar's marksmanship, and was taking it at face value here. But what was she doing to their spells?! That he couldn't grasp. It was well known that magics could cancel each other out. Normally they had to be of equal quality spells. But for this mere wretched heretic to be able to use her god's magic like that?! It was unthinkable! Unconscionable! Didn't he smite her village out of rage?! Why was his blessing still with her?!
This was enough! "Take her out!" He hissed. "Follow my lead!!" He lifted up his Great Staff. A grand thing made of silver with gold design and filigree. A sleek curved throne at it's crest, beset by a large amethyst-purple orb. He bent his head and began chanting. The other Zealots looked at him, then bent and followed his lead in the chant.
Faiglyn noticed the bombardment ceased. And the loud chorus of chant. She lowered her bow, looking over with more clear vision. The Zealots were all chanting now? Well, that couldn't be good. She didn't want to look a gift horse in the mouth! She began ascended with speed once again. Grabbing rock after rock and pulling herself up. Until she was at the top. Standing right in front of a sizzling, sparking barrier of near-impossible to see swirling red, black, and purple. The Dreadbreak.
She leaned in, and it sparked. Magic zipping right at her. Sizzling her nose, causing her to wince and take a step back. Which put her precariously on the edge of a spike of rock. She halted herself, and took a breath.
"NOW! BEFORE THE HERETIC BREAKS THE BARRIER!" The Chief Zealot shouted. The last words of the chant were finalized and suddenly a heavy pulse of magic erupted. It blew against the trees, kicking them back as if a harsh gale of wind struck them. Loose rocks of the ravine also broke apart, flying away like razor knives in the wind. Faiglyn braced against this shockwave.
"The Lance of Emersity Theota!!" he intoned. The magick from all their spells combined into one. It spun, morphing into a bolt of white-yellow. Then the lance fired right at her.
Even from this distance, Faiglyn could feel the magical pressure of this attack. The heat from it. If it struck her -she'd be incinerated on the spot! She didn't know what she could do, but she lifted up her bow and focused.
This time, her focus was greater. Grander. Hotter. Her own arrow began glowing. Until it lit up like a single line of silver. All she could do was loose. So she did.
The line of silver fired right at the Lance of Emersity Theota. And erased it instantly. The silver line went straight through it, splitting it apart into many particles of light that all beautifully twinkled away. The silver line, though, carried on. It sailed forward.
-Clean over the heads of the Zealots. Clean over the treetops.
Faiglyn was in awe of what just happened. Of what she had just done! What had she just done?!.. She wasn't sure. She winced when the silver line continued, but completely missed any adversary. That was somehow the best and worst shot she had ever made. In fairness, she wasn't thinking about striking any Zealots down in the moment. She had only been thinking about stopping that spell.
Stopping that spell!
The spell! It was stopped!
Even the Zealots all were left stunned.
In the moment given to her by sheer serendipity, Faiglyn knocked her bow on her back, and turned back to the barrier. No more waiting. No more dawdling. By chance, Faiglyn knew the spell to 'unlock' this locked door. It was a secret passed down by priestesses. Or perhaps, just the elven people of Qhoun? Or the priestesses of Qhuon? She honestly wasn't sure. But that didn't matter now.
She was focused on the barrier. And began writing magical script of her native Hyu elf tongue, with a unique priestess-y flavor. Magic script was simply written language -usually some sort of ancient, or uniquely magical language that is flooded with mana, or magick. Runes, also, are just magic script. The script is a spell, so it makes magic. The script can lay dormant for years. Eras, even, depending on what the writer wants, and writes into the spell. In this case, her own spell was not meant to unlock the "door". No. It was meant to awaken the spell that was placed upon the barrier during its inception. The unlocking or opening or barrier-breaking -whatever you wanted to call it- spell that was placed into the barrier, just for the occasion -the crazy occasion- that someone wanted in. Almost like a failsafe. A stupid one no one would ever try.
"She's breaking the barrier!!" The Chief Zealot shouted. "STOP HER!!!"
It seemed they had gotten over their stupor. And began firing spells once more at her. However, that last spell had taken most of the mana within most of their bodies. So the spells were far less frequent, and far from a barrage of them like before. Many of the Zealots attempted to cast spells, and rightly passed out trying to do so. That could happen, if magic was attempted with empty mana pools. And depending on the intensity of the spell, worse could happen. Like self-injury, sickness, or even death.
The Chief Zealot growled in irritation at the poor display of his fellow Zealots. He had more mana. So he and the few who did, continued firing spells at her.
Unfortunately Faiglyn could not avoid them. Nor could she defend against them. Once her own spell to unlock the door had began, she couldn't stop it.
So, spells sunk into her. The ones that reached her, and didn't miss that is. Icy winds hit her. Rocks pelted her. Fire blasted her back. Faiglyn winced and cried for every one that struck. But she endured as she finished up the spell.
Which she did.
Faiglyn was shocked she had managed it! She bent back, observing her handiwork in awe. Something flashed across the entirety of the barrier. Which was like the entirety of the sky above all of them lit up. Then the barrier glowed reddish. And her magic script glowed. More magical letterings etched into the barrier, rising up into the sky. These letterings, which Faiglyn did not recognize, moved. Sparks and magical electricity fizzled across the barrier. The Zealots all gasped.
"NO!" The Chief Zealot called out, eyes wide.
Even Faiglyn wasn't sure what she had just done.
The magic script and new magic letterings all moved across the barrier, then formed what can only be described as a doorway. The doorway was before Faiglyn. The magic sizzled. Then the doorway -the barrier there- simply vanished. The door was open. Faiglyn was still basically pressed up against the barrier due to the magical barrage she had taken. So when it opened up, Faiglyn yipped, and the elf took a tumble right inside. Not even able to contemplate if she really wanted to enter after all.
But enter she did.
Entered Wraevadar.
"NO! The heretic!!-" The call of the Chief Zealot, or perhaps it was another, grew quieter in the distance.
As she tumbled down the grey-black dusty incline on the other side of the barrier. "Oofh! Oafh! Uff!" Faiglyn grunted as she rolled. Until she finally came to a halt at the bottom of the incline. Groaning, on her stomach, she pushed herself up with her hands to look around. First things first, she had to shake her head, and pat off the dust covering her. What she first noticed when she was able to open her eyes, was the way she had just come. Where she had just tumbled was a steep incline of grey-black substance that was like soot. Looking farther along, there were more rock-like formations similar to the other side of the barrier. Except these were black. Like an obsidian black. She had gotten lucky in where she entered, otherwise she could've skewered herself on those.
She glanced up. Even though the doorway had opened for her. The entirety of the barrier flashed. And... broke. Leaving nothing between Wraevadar and Eaduxath. That... that was bad. She stared in disbelief and horror.
On the other side of the barrier, the Zealots were, too, watching how the barrier flashed and disappeared. "No..." breathed the Chief Zealot. "W-well.. Well, f-f-follow her!" He shouted, waving his hand erratically. "After the heretic!"
"But sir!" Someone cut in. "Wraevadar..?"
"Wraevadar, what?!" He spat back. "After her! Get the heretic! That's what our orders are!!"
"R~right! Yessir, of course!" The Crusader weakly replied, with a deep tone of fear for being reprimanded. He simultaneously saluted the Chief Zealot. He and the group began moving down the earthy incline. Only to look back up. As the barrier sparked back into being.
However, it was noticeably "fizzier". And noticeably visible. The barrier was there. Not gone for good, like they had all thought just a moment ago in stunned silence. The Dreadbreak was there. Unbroken. But it was weaker.
The Head Zealot narrowed his eyes. It had sealed back up behind their charge. Unfortunately he didn't know the strange spell she had used to open it. He hadn't expected to even chase her this far. Let alone see the stupid elf enter Wraevadar of all places! And that magic she had shown.. That had cut through the Lance of Emersity Theota. Their patron deity. The Monarch Deity. The Divine One. The Preeminence. Sacrilege. Even wondering "how" was tantamount to sacrilege, so he didn't voice his questions aloud. His fellow Zealots weren't as thoughtful, blathering on with one another in confusion about the whole ordeal. He inwardly groaned. "Come! We make our way back to the Grand Cathedral. We must confer with the Prime Archbishop. On how to break the Dreadbreak."
"Sir?"
"We are still charged with getting the heretic, fool. We simply need the means to break the barrier as that perverse elf did. To think she knows the spell to break the barrier..." He mumbled at the end, glancing away. He was not thrilled considering what that meant.
It was clear the Crusader didn't much like the idea of entering Wraevadar, even going after a heretic such as she, but he didn't voice his concern. "Sir." He said dutifully, with a dip of his head. He turned and waved his hand. "Alright! Come! We're headed back!" He called to the others. Inwardly, he thought it was dumb to even try going after her. She would die in Wraevadar, after all. Everyone knew that. Mission accomplished, right?
Murmurs of relief, confusion, and such rippled across the group. Gathering up the unconscious, the Crusaders and Zealots began the disheartened march back.
"No! You six," the Chief Zealot called to a group known as The Holy Chosen. Decked out in, of course, opulent armors. Tacky. They were a group of powerful Crusaders with connections to gods that gave them special magic. He waved at the barrier. "You six see if there's any lingering effects of her spell. If there is, enter behind her. Go after her on your own, if you can."
The six were not like the Crusader talking to him. They all saluted, fist across their chest. Together they called dutifully. "Sir!"
"Yessir!"
Immediately the Holy Chosen began making their way down, then up the rocky incline towards the barrier. No second questioning. Just following orders.
Back on the other side of the barrier, Faiglyn sighed in relief as she saw the Dreadbreak blink back into existence. She hadn't destroyed the barrier between Wraevadar and Eaduxath after all... Good! Wait, was it good? It meant... Well it meant she wasn't going to be followed. But...
It also meant she was here. Locked in Wraevadar.
Her eyes swept across her surroundings. She immediately winced. Bringing up her arm to cover her nose. The air! The air! It was hard to breathe! Wait, the air -was it caustic? She wrapped her arm with her cloak and placed it over her nose. That wasn't good. Caustic air... Was she poisoned? Would she die soon? She had no idea. All she had was rumors about this place. This place immediately before her.
The Strip of Despair.
That's what it was called. She wasn't sure how there was rumors of it, but.. The word was the Strip of Despair was the immediate area beyond the barrier. A desolate, bleak strip of land with literally nothing. It was said this strip of land killed all who entered the barrier. None made it passed it. Hence the name. The "Despair" it gave. Sure enough, before her was a sprawling land of gray-black. Nothing as far as the eye could see. Barring spikes of obsidian black here and there. Her heart began beating quicker. Were the rumors true? Would she die here? How could they be? Someone had to live to start them, right?
Suddenly something caught her attention. Faiglyn glanced back and up behind her. At the Dreadbreak. Sparks were hissing. There, messing with the barrier. Were six figures.
Faiglyn's eyes widened. The Holy Chosen! No way! They were seriously coming after her?! Into Wraevadar?! Were they crazy?! Apparently so. She had gotten it wrong. She had incorrectly assumed she would be "safe" in here; that no one would come after her. She was wrong. It seemed The Church felt so slighted, that they were willing to even chase her into Wraevadar of all places. That was not good. Not good at all.
Faiglyn didn't think one more minute about it. She turned and began running. At first her feet flopped about. Like she was in quicksand. Or like she had two left feet. It was this strange dust. And her injuries were afflicting her body so. But she quickly regained her footing and balance and carried on. She had no clue if the Holy Chosen could enter like she had. But she wasn't stupid enough to stick around and find out.
Or at least she hoped she was being smart... This was Wraevadar after all. What lie ahead? What was in store for her? She knew something had to be, and she wasn't eager to find out. First she had to survive the Strip of Despair.
