Fantasy King After King

[seasonedcat]

~Sergio and Aurelia~
Combined post of me and Juju ​

Sergio felt his rage curl in his stomach like molten metal. How dare they treat him like that. Him. After this whole situation was taken care of those nobles would begin to have some troubles with important secrets being revealed by a ‘mysterious person’. His rage had already been bad after the incident with the man earlier, but this had just turned his mood into dangerous levels. His rage simmered as he walked through the streets alongside his friend Aurelia. Both of them weren’t fighters, they would have to stay near the actual fighters if they didn’t want to risk a fatal incident.

Sergio’s lip curled in disgust as he looked around the streets he walked on. They normally were dirty and unfit for the likes of him, but at this moment in time, they were even worse. Groans from hurt citizens and clashing of steel echoed in the streets that used to be filled with cheerful voices and laughter. It was almost depressing if it wasn’t for the fact that Sergio didn’t really care all that much about their deaths. If he cried over every dead bug he wouldn’t be in the job position he is now

Aurelia held up the skirt of her dress as she walked through the streets, but all attempts to keep the filth off of her clothing were futile. The crimson silk had already darkened in sticky splotches along the hem, forever stained by the very lifeblood of the peasants she detested.

“Disgusting…” she muttered, the frown on her face deepening.

Ash fell from the sky like snow, forming thin blankets over the mangled corpses strewn across the streets in an unholy mixture of smoke and blood. The stench of it filled her nose and clung to her throat, the taste of copper thick on her tongue and almost causing her to retch. In a nearby ally, she could hear a child crying, but she didn’t give it a second thought as she struggled to keep up with the king.

“I’d have to agree with you on that my friend, not to be insensitive of course, but no one finds a sobbing child beautiful. Even worse, this awful ash is staining my suit.”

Aurelia gave a scoff, “You think that’s bad? This dress is worth a fortune and more. It was custom made only a fortnight ago…”

“Such a shame something as beautiful as that has to go through something like this, oh and you too of course. Just kidding my dear. Now make sure you don’t let yourself get stabbed by these demons or one of these presents looking to get rid of someone high up they hate. It would be even worse if your dress would also have to be fixed for a hole and bloodstains…”

“I should like to say likewise, dear Sergio, but I just may be the one skewering you by the end of all this…”

Sergio chuckled at this, “My dear, I think I am the only one with a dagger here. And your small hands should be used for creating something pretty rather than ruining something that is.”

With a small smirk, Aurelia placed a hand on her chest. “A lady is full of surprises. But perhaps I shall stay my blade...if I killed you every girl in Örn would be out for my blood.”

“My dear, the ladies like what the see, but not who they see… more people would be glad of you riding someone in my… ‘trade’. Or is it that you have taken a fancy towards me?” Sergio smirked at her.

Aurelia clicked her tongue in annoyance, her face going slightly red though it was hardly noticeable in the flame and smoke. “Don’t flatter yourself. I can do so much better.”

“I am not flattering myself, anyone in the kingdom with a brain could tell that if we were to wed we would become the most powerful house beside the king, but that is only because they rule…”

Aurelia opened her mouth to retort when the king exclaimed a challenge towards the Cambion.

“Did he just…” Aurelia said in dismay, her eyes widening. “Taunt that thing?”

Sergio let out a loud snort. “I think he did my dear. Well, he had a short reign, but we will remember him. Long live the king.” he shook his head as he chuckled lightly. This was not going to be good.

“Oh no, he is NOT dying today!”

“What, because you haven't married him yet?”

There was a short silence and then a loud thud as Aurelia hit Sergio’s shoulder, rage flashing in her eyes. “You watch your tongue, Sergio!” she growled, balling her hands into fists.

Unbeknownst to both of them, a fledgling was creeping up behind Aurelia. Its claws were covered in blood from its last victim. It crept to the loudest person it could here, which happened to be Aurelia who had forgotten the danger in her moment of anger.

Sergio let out a low oof, before chuckling loudly. “Seems like I hit the nail on the head~” He purred jokingly.

“I’ll have you know I put great effort into keeping him alive! Human threats are one thing, but to seek death from demons!? OF COURSE I'M UPSET!”

He was about to make another remark when he saw something out of the corner of his eye. He turned to see what it was, his eyes going wide in alarm as he saw the creature. He quickly grabbed the shoulder of the raging Aurelia and pulled her into his chest, effectively getting her out of the way of the claw strike that was aimed for her legs.

Aurelia let out a surprised eep as she was tugged into Sergio’s arms, annoyed at first before she saw the fledgling. Her eyes widened and her heart leapt in her chest. By the gods, it had almost got her. She gulped, not even care about the awkward position she was in at the moment.

They didn’t have to worry about the fledgling after that as Aurin disposed of it quickly as he had noticed it. Saving the two of them from the danger and having to clumsily fight it in their party clothes.

After the creature met its swift doom Aurelia suddenly found her voice. “Aurin, that was too close! Be more careful! You are supposed to be defending us!!” she shouted shrilly.

Sergio laughed lightly at this, “Knights these days, tch, are they just hiring anyone these days?”

Realizing she was still being held by Sergio, Aurelia quickly removed herself from his arms and dusted off her dress before turning back to Aurin to continue giving him a glare of disapproval.
ItsKenAgain

 

[Jack19XK]

It was evident to all that calamity had befell the capital. In the blink of an eye, the city had transformed from an atmosphere of celebration and glee into a whirlwind of wails and terror. As the royal entourage vacated the safety of the castle walls and made their way on to the streets, the cries and screams of both men and women could be heard from all directions. As expected, the majority of the nobility had taken refuge behind the castle walls as suggested to them by the King. Nearly all those that had followed the King out were the royal guards intermixed with some of the city's garrisons. These were men who swore an oath and protect and serve his majesty and the Kingdom's people. Not one showed any sign of wanting to forsake such vows.

It didn't take long before Lyrren heard the grotesque demonic growls that had once plagued the Kingdom's countrysides. Within a matter of seconds, his eyes were presented with a charging Cambion. Lyrren had already readied his sword in hand but before he could move to intercept the beast, his brother had beaten him to it. Before the Prince could even reject his brother's statement, the King had already trade blows with the demonic creature. Lyrren watched as the King dodged the demon's charge before launching several successful blows to its knees and weakened joints.

Lyrren's eyes then diverted to Ser Aurin, who had pierced his spearhead into the jaws of a charging fledgling. It was clear now that evil had not only carpeted the city but was now locked on to the group. Lyrren could see the surrounding guards being torn over who to protect amidst the chaos. Their instinct immediately drawn them to the King but many were caught up in conflict with several of the fledglings.

It was then that Lyrren realized the dire situation that Lady Rimbaud and Lady Luxenri were in. There they were, two noble maidens being caught in a field of bloodshed and catastrophe. While both were indeed skillful in the political sector, their combat skills were lacking, especially against such creatures of hellish origins. With Arvin and Aurin both preoccupied, it was now up to Lyrren to ensure the safety of the two ladies. He quickly gave orders for the nearby soldiers to form around the ladies while he himself took up the vanguard of the formation. Despite not being properly armored for such fights, Lyrren showed no signs of fright. If his father had taught him anything, it was to never be frightened by these creatures. Even if you are, you should never show it. That would only demonstrate weakness and one should never do so against such abominations. At the mere age of 19, King Kungan's words had long taken root in the Prince's mind.

"Lady Luxenri, Lady Rimbaud, please stay close to me for your own safeties." Before either Tessa or Aurelia could present their responses, Lyrren's attention was diverted forward. Herald by an ear piercing screech, a duo of fledglings was charging directly towards the trio. With the strength of their four limbs, the creatures lifted themselves off the ground as they tackled the soldiers attempting to engage them. Within seconds, two men now laid dead before Lyrren as the beasts quickly regained their momentum.

Having killed their brief obstacles, two of the fledglings charged towards Lyrren. As skilled as he was in swordsmanship, Lyrren was never the type to allow his ego to get the best of him. If there's a way to gain an advantage in a fight, he would take it. The Prince bided his time as the creatures approached. As they neared three yards, the Prince raised his left hand. Crimson flames ignited within his palm as they shot broadly forward. The strength that Lyrren had put into the attack wasn't enough to instantly kill the fledglings neither was it the initial purpose.

The impact was enough to propel the two creatures back and caused enough pain to distract them from their targets. Using the brief window that he had now gained, Lyrren turned to the offensive. Grasping his sword tightly in both hands, he charged at the demon to his right and thrusted the tip of his blade cleaning into the creature's jaws, a near mirror of Aurin's strike. Releasing one hand from the hilt, Lyrren placed it near the creature's chest. A glow similar to the one earlier surrounded his palm as a fiery blast stronger than the first sent the creature flying into another. This had also freed the Prince's blade from the beast's jaws just in time for the second demon to come charging back in.

Lyrren would wait as the creature drew nearer before stepping out of the way last second and proceeded to pierce his sword directly through the right side of the demon's throat. With both hands grasping the hilt, Lyrren swung the sword out of the fledgling's neck, causing a semi-decapitation. This was enough to cause the creature to fall lifelessly on to the ground as droplets of its blood covered the young Prince. With the two fledglings dispatched, the Prince glanced back to ensure the safety of the two ladies before doing the same towards Arvin and Aurin. It was then that he heard the curling growls of more demons nearing the group, which drew an irritated sigh from the young Prince.

 

[Siren77]

As the Cambion drew closer, Arvin too moved in at a walking pace. All the while he eyed the beasts movements to see anything irregular, so far its movements were the same. It’s strides long and powerful, until finally it took a heavy step with its left indicating a spring forward. Sure enough, it’s tall and lumbering figure darted forward with its right leg taking a larger stride toward The King. All the while it’s same side arm arched upwards in a decline blow. However, just as Arvin was to move he also saw its left harm charging up for a hook.

Knowing it was expecting him to dodge, the King played into its game and side stepped the first strike to his own right which would put him right in front of the left hook. In a well timed movement of speed, he ducked his entire body under the Cambions massive fist and moved to drive his sword into its exposed abdomen. The creature moved its own torso to evade the stroke, only to suffer a minor cut yet it howled in pain as it stepped away. Arvin gave it a split second puzzled look before seeing one of the many feathers belonging to Ms. Rimbaud jutting our of its left ankle.

In its moment of pain, Arvin halted his forward momentum by slamming his right foot down and pushing off of it. Reeling his body he flicked his blade forward and stabbed it forward and through the slit between the chitinous armor of the Cambion. The beast roared with rage and pain as it viciously ripped its shoulder free, not paying much chair to its now separated shoulder joint. Flesh was rent that did far more damage to its joint than what Arvin’s own blade had. It didn’t matter how clever this beast was, it was still an animal and would react as such to pain.

Grunting and breathing heavily as a bull would, the Cambion snarled at Arvin who scraped his blade across the ground in the same taunting movement. A wound this grave surely would inspire defeat in a creature of logic, but this was no such creature. Instead it continued to pursue Arvin, stepping forward as it gripped its destroyed shoulder with its arm hanging limp at its left side. For a moment, it paused in its movement and leaned its torso downward before opening its jaws wider than could be expected with the stretchy muscular material surrounding its mouth.

Knowing full well what was coming next, Arvin rolled to the side just as a plume of fire erupted from the Cambions mouth that missed its target and crashed into one of the few stable buildings remaining which enveloped it in flames. The stream of fire gave chase though, moving along with Arvin and heading in whatever direction he went through the movement do the Cambions body. The King was about to dodge in the direction of his allies, only to realize their danger in the situation.

Gritting his teeth, he took on the blunt of the flames that collided with his chest and burned at the dress shirt he wore which quickly turned to ash and exposed his chest to be burned as well. Arvin grunted in pain but made no further noise as he came out the other side of flames pillar and charged forward around it. Just as the Cambion was to repeat the movement of following his direction, it was to be met in the abdomen with Arvin’s blade. The beast emitted a myriad of unholy noises as the blade stabbed into the majority of its lower torso, and was stopped only by the armor at its back side.

He didn’t know if that would be the killing blow, but one thing was indeed for certain though. The Champions blade had cut into part of the beasts spinal column causing it to collapse on its knees and one remaining arm as it struggled to maintain control over its own body. Meaning if it wasn’t going to die, it soon would by its inability to move. Wheezing and grunting, the wounded animal looked to the ground with a defeated glance through its semi translucent skull where Arvin knew its beady little eyes were.

Having retrieved his blade just before the Cambions collapse, Arvin stepped ever closer and laid a hand on its skull. Raising the blade one last time, he drove it into the neck of the Cambion and twisted the blade fully around its head causing a resounding snap and a final low guttural breath from it. It’s body slumped forward and crashed to the ground without further movement and freed Arvin’s blade once more. The Fledglings belonging to this Cambions Horde all paused in combat for a moment, giving a opportunity to slay them in their disbelief and slight shutdown of thought. They had nothing to guide them any longer.
Ramjammer Juju seasonedcat The True Plague Jack19XK ItsKenAgain AiDEE-c0

 

[ItsKenAgain]

“My sincerest apologies, Lady Luxenri. May the integrity of your fine dress remain unscathed in lieu of such unsavory party events. Spymaster Sergio, thank you for assisting her out of the way. I assume it will be the most useful thing you contribute to this battle, if not your scathing wit.” Aurin spat back sarcastically, with a narrowing of his eyes at the two as he huffed to blow a curl away from his face. He was indeed charged with protecting the Ambassador and Spymaster, but they could at least realize their own uselessness here and not give insult.


The Knight gave a short yank to his spear and the smaller bottom point slipped free of the fledgling’s neck bones. Viscous blood geysered out of the wound like tar, earning a disgusted sneer from the warrior. He’d now killed two of these demons created from the Void to destroy, but by the Gods’ will now destroyed by Aurin’s spear. With this realization, a bloodlust flickered in the Knight’s olive eyes. How many more of these wretched creations could he rid from this earth? A great question, which could only be answered by his actions.


“If you allow these guards to accompany you, it will greatly improve my ability to service you.” Aurin advised Aurelia and Sergio, bidding them to listen to Prince Lyrren’s orders. Aurin saw fit to use this opportunity to his advantage. It would ensure he could do as he said and protect them more effectively, by giving him a chance to focus solely on attacking while the guards defended the more helpless of the Pantheon. Having more living bodies in one area however, may do well to attract more of the fledglings to their position, so the Knight could face them head on, and increase his holy kill count.


He turned his back on the two, keeping close to them to follow wherever they did go, so he could stand between them and anything that decided to charge at them. Aurin’s eyes darted quickly to the young King, and his dangerous dance with the Cambion. As he did so, he saw a knife strike the beast from above. Looking up, he noticed Miss Rimbaud bounding tactfully across the rooftops. This support from above would bid time for the Knight and Prince Lyrren to tackle the rest of the fledglings. Speaking of whom, had taken on two of the fledglings as well, using his gift of fire from Kasai to aid him in his battle.


So it was true then, the Gods had blessed him as well as his older brother. Perhaps Arvin’s words of his Pantheon all being chosen for this purpose by the Gods was more than just a proposition, and they truly were created to serve in decimating the threats of the Void. Certainly that’s what Aurin had to believe to be here in the first place, but the evidence only made him more decided.

There was little time to dwell on this fleeting thought, as more fledglings approached their group.


“Who’s next, then?” The Knight shouted as he posted up against the clambering monstrosities. A duo of the beasts caught his sight and dared to challenge him. Aurin grinned devilishly.

Now that he’d had an experience with the fledglings, he knew they were little more than savages, with the intellect of wild dogs at the very best. The two weren’t right on each other’s heels. One was much closer to Aurin as they charged him. This was yet another advantage for the Knight. He stood his ground and waited for the fledgling to come up on him with its jaws opening up for him. Like with the fledgling before he decided to block its bite with his spear, catching its teeth on the weapon. This time the fledgling reared back with the spear in its mouth, but Aurin was ready to fight. He let the strength of the beast carry him upwards, working with the momentum it gave him. He he kept his grip on the spear and jumped as it pulled him off the ground. Once his feet were in the air, the Knight threw them forward into the creature’s core. The spear fell from its mouth as the fledgling fell with Aurin on top of it. He brought the point into its face, cracking bone with the force in order to kill the demon.


Looking up as the Cambion roared and fire erupted from its mouth at the King, Aurin found himself hesitating. He watched Arvin cripple the behemoth to its knees, when he should’ve been watching the second fledgling that was quickly approaching him. He snapped his attention back and was caught off guard by its close proximity. He reared back reflexively and javelined the spear towards his enemy but it had gotten the slip on him, missing his spear and closing the gap between them.


The creature ducked its head, escaping Aurin’s defensive reach, and going for his torso. Rows of sharp fangs pierced through the Knight’s thick doublet, their long points having no issue sinking into his left side. Aurin let out a strangled shout as the fledgling gnawed, its strong jaws threatening to crush his ribs if he didn’t escape it quickly. He grunted and reached for his dagger, hoping that stabbing the beast would get him free of its bite. He let out a cry as he sent the dagger into its shoulder, and then immediately again into its side. The fledgling did let go, as it cried out in pain, shrieking as it fell away a few steps, much to dismay with the dagger still in its midsection. The now weaponless Aurin also fell back a few steps, and as he was doing so he was met with a saving grace.


King Arvin had defeated the massive Cambion, and sent its body crashing to the ground with a resounding rumble that shook the earth. The Knight hunched over a bit and peered through squinted eyes at the sight of ash and ember shooting up into the air, and Arvin standing victorious over the behemoth in the midst of it. The Cambion had fallen and the effect it had was obvious. The fledgling that had taken a mouthful of the Knight froze with the others, its eyeless face turned towards the scene as it cowarded from its wounds.


Now the Royal Knight was pissed, and the adrenaline that rushed his veins only aided in his fury. He could hear the others taking this pause in time to finish off the shocked fledglings and Aurin knew which one was his. He breathed heavily, his ribs throbbing with every movement as he stalked furiously towards the fledgling.


Aurin threw his heeled boot into the four legged brute’s side, kicking it over with as much force as he could muster, and letting out a ferocious growl to fight the pain of his own injuries. He quickly mounted the creature before it could leave the ground, and his grip found its throat, gaining some control and attempting to choke it as it struggled. The Knight grimaced, his eyes ablaze as they bore into the fledgling’s gnashing teeth that shown red with Aurin’s blood. How dare this sickening atrocity take a bite of him? Rage possessed the man as he spat into the creature’s howling mouth.


“There! You like what you taste? You vile rake! ” The Knight jeered at the fledgling through gritted teeth with unmatched intensity.


His body was trembling and he knew he couldn’t sit atop it for long. He reached his right hand up and got ahold of one of its horns, crying out in pain as it tried to buck him. He reached his left hand backwards and found the knife, dislodging it from the demon, and putting it back in through its throat with a grunt. He huffed as he removed the dagger and continued to breathe heavily as he slowly got to his feet, and life was leaving the monster. He sheathed the blade without caring to wipe it. Some servant could do that for him later. The Knight merely clutched his mangled side now that the fighting was over and the adrenaline was leaving him, and began determinedly, with a scowl, to retrieve his spear.

 

[Ramjammer]

Getting to the outer walls had been Hell in more ways than one.

Fledglings swarmed the countryside and farmlands in small roving packs. For every one survivor that Nemir found, there were at least four Demons trying to take a bite out of them. The woman's initial rush towards the city proper became a slog. While she'd bogged down in worse ways, the trek dragged on for far longer than she'd have liked.

Making a beeline for the gates wasn't possible. Crumbled buildings, and frequent patrols of Fledglings forced the woman to pause more than she'd have liked. Clearing out the vermin became less difficult with each new encounter. Fledglings weren't very creative and let numbers make up for their lack of tactical thinking. But the Judicator found every new skirmish to be a waste of time.

Every so often Nemir would scoop up another straggler and lead the ever growing gaggle through and around the ruins outside the wall. That was the easiest part of the whole affair. The little group was quiet, knowing that a single misplaced noise would bring an entire horde of Fledglings down on their heads. They'd survived long enough to receive help and had no intention of throwing away whatever slim hope they had left.

The Judicator silently wished that they were more helpful. All that the group of stragglers could do was hide when ordered to so she could clear out another pack of Fledglings on their way to the main gates None of them possessed the means or even the will to fight, and Nemir knew internally that there was a good reason for that.

Watching everyone you loved die right in front of you did something to a person. It changed and twisted them in awful ways, leaving scars that would never truly heal. At present, they were all merely beset by shock. Their bodies moving autonomously as burgeoning survival instincts attempted to do what they could not. Once they were safe, they'd have time to rest and true horror would set in. Grief always followed close behind.

Nemir clenched her jaw tightly, as her gut surged with bitterness. Sadness was a given, but she knew what would follow the events of the day.

Scores of young men and women, all having lost. All having grieved would volunteer to fight the forces of the horde. With no homes, and nothing waiting for them they'd allow the seed of vengeance to take root in their hearts, and hatred would begin its slow stranglehold. Arvin's Fifty Thousand would become so much more. More dammed souls fueling the fire and perpetuating the cycle that Nemir fought ceaselessly to end. The visions that plagued her sleep recently inched closer to reality, and she wondered if that lurking thing in the great darkness might be right. The Wheel kept turning, and she was powerless to stop it.

Their trek to the Main Gate was slow, and bloody. They'd lost two people during the final stretch. A Fledgling pack, larger than the last few Nemir had faced launched an assault from all sides. The screaming survivors hid themselves away in the ruins of a house, nearly trampling each other in their haste to escape. The cries of their dying companions went ignored, serving only as a distraction to their retreat as the snarling Demons tore into them. Nemir had made as quick work of them as she could, not wanting the sounds of the struggle to attract more of the infernal beasts. A sense of failure attempted to worm its way into her conciousness, but the Judicator would not allow it. Most of them had made it to safety. Two deaths were a small price to pay.

The outer Portcullis was shut tight, and from the other side Nemir could hear hushed voices. One survivor began to cry out, but Nemir shushed them immediately. They weren't out of danger yet, and only the God's knew what could be lurking nearby.

A Guard's face appeared almost immediately at the sound of their approach, eyeing them with equal parts suspicion and curiosity. "What's all this now?" He spat, eyes wide as he scanned the area for any signs of activity. A group of defenseless people would make a fine meal for the Demons, and he had no intention of being added to the menu.

"Survivors." Nemir grunted tiredly. "Open the damn gate and let us in. They need to be looked after while I head into the city."

"But the Demons..." The man began, shaking his head slightly at the Judicator as if her request was far too heavy to carry out.

"Will be the least of your concerns if you continue to back talk me." She replied cooly, levelling her gaze on him. Her expression was unreadable beneath her helmet, but the reality of the situation set in quickly enough. A single knight managing to drag a group of terrified people through a battlefield most likely wasn't someone that spoke idly.

"Fine." The man hissed. "But we're not opening it all the way, so you'll have to duck. If anything happens, we'll let go of the wheel." He finished before ducking out a sight. The creak of wood, and the rattle of chains heralded the slow raising of the massive wrought-iron gate. Nemir shook her head and grumbled bitterly. "The best the Kingdom has to offer...." She hurriedly shooed the ragged group of people inside, staying behind until the last person ducked under the gate before leading Ghan in after them all.

The space was small, but there was room enough for everyone to spread out and rest. Nemir placed her back to the stone wall, sliding downwards until she was seated. Ghan sat beside her, panting heavily. She couldn't stay there for very long. Her fight was in the City. With any luck, she might push towards the Castle. Arvin had undoubtedly taken to the streets. Nemir knew that he'd refuse to sit idly by while his people were slaughtered indiscriminately. Whether anyone accompanied him, and by how many was left up in the air. His brother, Lyrren was positive to be close beside him in the fray, and the woman winced internally. She hadn't even met up with either of them yet, but something told her that the two men would be the death of her.

She only allowed herself a few moments to regain her breath, taking the time to remove her helmet and gulp down some water from an offered skin. She splashed some into Ghan's mow, knowing that the Hyena was about as parched as she was before standing. The enclosed space of the Portcullis would afford the group protection and provided that they all remained quiet they wouldn't draw the notice of any Fledglings. Based on how quiet the area was she figured that the bulk of the fighting was situated near the center of the Capital. The King's party was being hosted at the Castle, stuffed full of victims for the Demons. They'd be drawn to the mass of bodies like moths to a flame.

Nemir approached the inner gate in silence, nodding at one of the Guards to indicate that she wished to be let out. The man seemed incredulous at the idea and sputtered loudly. "You can't be serious about going out there? It's a bloodbath! Strong as you look, there's no way you or that mutt will survive. Word's come out that at least four Cambions have been spotted. Probably more given how widespread the fighting is. You cant fight that many Demons off."

"We've done it before. Near five times over." The Judicator responded simply. "I can still see the sky, and I'm not up to my knees in blood. This is nothing, now open the gate." The man scowled deeply and shook his head. He muttered profanities as he inched the gate upwards allowing Nemir and Ghan the space to step out into the city. "It's your funeral, you crazy broad."

"Better mine than yours." The Judicator replied blandly before setting off through the winding streets of the Capital. Inside the walls, the fires were more widespread and smoke choked the air in great plumes. Ash rained down constantly, blanketing everything like sulfuric snow. Ghan sneezed as a flake latched onto his nose, and Nemir brushed it away gently. "There, better?" The Hyena only wagged his tail in answer and the woman couldn't help but chuckle.

They continued their journey in silence. Picking their way over and between smoking rubble and still corpses. Ghan's ears pricked as they drew closer to the City's center. There, screams and the sounds of battle could be heard more frequently. The corpses became much more frequent too. They had been stripped of most of their flesh, gnawed down to bone as the Fledglings gorged themselves fit to burst. But eventually the bodies became more intact. Mauled beyond recognition and left to bleed out in the cobblestone streets. Once they'd eaten their fill, the Demons resorted to merely slaughtering everyone in sight, driven only by the urge to lay waste to everything around them.

Nemir knew that she was getting close to the epicenter based on that alone. Every so often she'd come across another gaggle of Fledglings, and she'd set to the work of killing them all. One less Fledgling meant one less lost soul. It became almost mechanical for her. The constant fighting, the howls of pain as the Demons died, the gnashing teeth. Eventually Nemir couldn't be bothered to tell one fight from the next. There was no point in trying to differentiate when it came to Demons. There was always another one lurking around the corner. And that one would go the way of its brothers. Either with a blade to the skull, or a pair of jaws tearing out its neck.

The Judicator took a brief moment to catch her breath and get her bearings after the close of her latest skirmishes. Fledgling corpses littered the ground, and a glance around the area revealed fires still burning. She was close now. The smell of smoke nearly gagged her, and here the ash rained down more heavily than before. Embers lit the growing darkness, and just ahead Nemir could make out the sounds of clashing steel and the groans of dying.

She pushed away from the corner of the building she was leaning against, loosening bricks and sending them tumbling to the ground with the motion. Ghan padded to her side, his muzzle and teeth stained dark with blood. The Judicator reached out to gently ruffle the Hyena's mane, murmuring words of affection and encouragement at him. "There's a good boy. Come on then. We're almost there." She strode purposefully down the street, Raumspalter slung over her shoulder as Ghan brought up the rear.

A low rumbling growl echoing down the cramped street caused the woman to stop dead in her tracks as her eyes narrowed sharply. Nemir knew the sound of a Cambion. Far better than she wished that she did. And she knew better the sound of one dying. She hesitated stepping forward again as the pitter patter of clawed feet erupted just at the end of the street. A small group of Fledglings was barreling towards her, their bodies low to the ground in a fearful stance as the sought to escape whatever lay just beyond her line of sight. The death of a Cambion normally resulted in the whole of its cohort falling apart. With no leadership to guide them, the lesser Demons scattered to the four winds. Any that weren't absorbed into another Cohort were left to fend for themselves.

The Fledgling's fear and disarray presented an opportunity for Nemir and she surged towards the fleeing pack head on. The Judicator would not allow them the time to potentially regroup. Together with Ghan, she crashed into the pack, Raumsplater raised high before falling edge first on to one Fledgling's back. Ghan tackled another to the ground, his teeth finding purchase in its skull and crushing it with a resounding crunch. The survivors howled in both rage and fear, their confusion reaching new heights as the now aimless Demons struggled to decide on a course of action. Their means of escape was now cut off, and they were bereft of the will to fight back. All fell prey to the Judicator and the Hyena in short order.

Their numbers dwindled rapidly, and the last Fledgling left standing turned tail to run back the way that it came. Nemir gave chase, but the Demon proved to be quicker than she was. Ghan, had no such problems however, and the Hyena dashed ahead. Just as the Fledgling burst into the open area where the body of its slain commander lay, Ghan was upon it. Steel jaws found the Demon's scrawny ankle and grabbed hold tightly. He sent the Fledgling toppling to the ground and it thrashed in pain. The Demon managed to twist its reedy body around to claw at the Hyena, and Ghan released his prey to dance out of reach.

The Demon was a pitiful sight. Its chest heaving with exertion and fear as it dragged itself away from the Hyena. Ghan loped along beside it, just out of reach. The Hyena's eyes watched the Demon with great interest and he licked his chops, letting out a deep guttural laugh as he paced back in front of the Demon, blocking its feeble attempt at an escape. The heavy metal footfalls rang on the cobblestones and something deep within the Fledgling's primitive brain became alight with fear. It did not understand what the sound really was. Incapable of stringing together coherent enough thoughts to put words to the events happening around it. But the firing of nerve endings in its body, and the panic clawing at its skull told the simple creature all that it needed to know.

It would die.

A metal clawed foot descended from just beyond the Demon's line of sight, digging into its ribs and breaking several as the Fledgling was kicked harshly and sent tumbling over. It whined pitifully, each breath gurgling audibly as blood filled its lungs. Breathing became excruciating, and each movement lit new flames of pain in its scrawny frame. The Demon still struggled to escape, dragging its broken body across the cobblestone. Its claws scrabbled impotently for purchase as something yanked at it leg, dragging it backwards.

"I know you can't understand me. But you understand fear, don't you? You understand pain." Nemir's grip on the Demon's leg tightened, and she yanked harder this time, and the Fledgling was lifted and practically hurled through the air. The Demon's back hit the ground painfully, and blood spewed freely from its mouth as it lay there in a heap, staring blindly up at the sky. A black metal figure loomed ominously over the Demon, and Nemir watched in silence as the Fledgling struggled to draw breath.

"This will not bring any of those people back. I know that. It won't put their souls at rest. It won't please the Gods." The woman sighed, speaking gently to the Demon as if she would a child. "This is more for my peace of mind than anyone's, really. In the end I'm a selfish as anyone else." The Fledgling let out a defiant screech at the woman, blood bubbling from its lipless mouth and staining its jagged fangs. The Judicator only chuckled and placed the sole of her boot against the Demon's face. It feebly attempted to bite at her, instincts still urging it to harm even as it lay dying.

"Well said." Was all the reply the Fledgeling received before the boot began to press down. It's pained howls reached a fever pitch, before being cut of sharply as its skull caved in. The Demon's weak thrashing ceased altogether. The one clawed hand that had managed to grasp hold of the woman's ankle dropped limply to the ground as she snuffed its life out.

Nemir let out a low huff, a wave of exhaustion settling over her. It was just beat out by the emptiness taking root in her chest. The tales told about these types of things were all lies. There was never any glory to be found in what she did. No pride. No honor. The Gods did not smile upon the Judicator for what she did. Only placing stern expectations that she and all like her carried out their will with grim efficiency. It was a bitter feeling.

The Judicator lifted her boot off of the Demon and kicked its corpse away. Sucking in a lungful of air only sent her into a coughing fit, and the woman fought back the urge to spit.

'What a day.' She thought dourly. The scrape of metal on stone, and the sound of footfalls gave her reason to look up. Arvin was there. Along with his brother, and several individuals she didn't quite recognize. Some of them looked capable of fending for themselves. But at least two were Nobles. She could tell on sight, given their fine dress and disgust with everything going on around them. Ghan's tail wagged excitably as he caught sight of the young King, utterly forgetting that an entire City was on fire around him. Nemir raised a metal-clad hand in greeting, and her eyes fell on the dead Cambion at the man's feet.

"That your doing?" She asked quietly. It would explain the Fledgling's attempted retreat. "A fine kill. But that only makes one." The Judicator said, calling to mind what the Guards had told her. Fighting a Cambion would be more stimulating than slaughtering Fledglings wholesale. She approached the group, her footfalls heavy and solid. The Judicator's armor was covered from helmet to greave in ash, dirt, and blood. She looked as if she'd been fighting for days on end, despite it only having been a few hours.

"Are those stragglers you rescued?" She asked the man, nodding briefly at Aurelia and Sergio. "We should get them somewhere secure before pressing on ahead." Nemir pressed firmly. She'd spent the better part of the past few hours babysitting survivors and she wasn't particularly up to doing it again.

 

[Siren77]

One by one the Fledglings would all fall, be it by Arvin’s hands, his brothers, Aurin’s, or Miss Rimbaud’s. With their Cambion gone they were as good as mindless animals with the minimal amount of brainpower necessary to instill life. They had no central hub to guide them to food and protection amongst numbers, and so they were lost. While those that were caught up in the confusion were swiftly cut down, others would be hasty to flee and seek out another of its evolved brethren in an attempt at regain composure and continue their losing fight against the Kingdoms forces.

As soon as Arvin was to see this, his rage got the better of him as he snarled and lunges forward, skewering another of the filthy mongrels on his Blade that it might be stained with their putrid black blood. With that one down, he continued to move on all the while to call out to his companions.

”Don’t let a single one get away! I don’t want these bastards to get the chance to find peace, kill them!”

Harsher words were thrown towards the Demons as the King continued pressing toward their positions, cutting into and through their flesh with unwavering strength, his eyes burning with the flames of Kasai.

Soon it became apparent that some were about to escape the party’s clutches, which prompted the King to growl and summon a wing of fire on his blade that he sliced into the air that it might fly. Traveling in an unfaltering line of destruction, the flame projectile continued onward and sliced through two of the fleeing demons before dissipating in the air not long afterwards.

This skirmish was won, but the battle was far from over. There were still many Cambions to kill, and Arvin was all too eager to be their downfall. Though just as he was about to press on, he saw a familiar figure finishing up slicing through a pack of demons of her own.

A smile managed to grace his face once again as he looked upon Nemir, glad that she had finally arrived amongst them all. Jogging up towards her, he offered her a slight wave of his own before stopping a few feet in front.

”I know there is still much work to be done, but now that we have you that makes another well versed warrior to aid us against these creatures.” Arvin looked back toward the two nobles as Nemir mentioned them and shook his head. ”No, they are members of my pantheon as well. Though not the kind that are bred for fighting such as us. I wanted them to take shelter but it seemed that the chambers in the castle were already full of the other Nobles and commoners attending the celebrations. This being the case it means a vast majority of our people are safe and protected inside.”

The Kings gaze traveled to the blood soaked streets which prompted his smile to falter and his rage to take hold once more. Taking ahold of what little fabric remained of his dress shirt from the Cambions flames, he tore it off that it might be out of the way.

”But it does not change the fact that my people’s blood have still been shed this day. I don’t know how they infiltrated our walls so easily, but I’m going to murder ever last one of them for enacting such violence against so many innocents. This will not stand, and the Gods as my witness, they will all pay for this.”

“There’s no certain place of safety for Master Sergio and Miss Luxenri. The best protection we can offer them is if they stay close and be our eyes for us on imminent danger.” Arvin turned back to the rest of the group. ”Quickly my Pantheon! There is still more to be hunted before this battle is one. Stay strong and ignore your injuries. The Gods will protect us so long as we have faith.”

Arvin made a move to advance his party further down the streets, only to be greeted by a dark chuckle as a plume of smoke emerged from the burning structures. In its wake, three figures burst forth from behind its cover onto the rooftop above them all. Each of them a new Cambion, grinning with a ravenous glance as they stood before them. Arvin was confused as to why they stood there so obediently, making no movement to attack or gain a strategic position. Then the smoke began to take form itself that answered his question.

The Baalgar has arrived.

“We meet at last, son of Kungen!” Arvin met the Demon standing amongst the Cambion’s with a wrathful glare, which prompted an eerie grin from the tall figure as it leaned its head to its left side. “Ah, such fire in your eyes. The fire of recognition. Good. I was beginning to think myself and my brothers had been forgotten. But I suppose I would’ve been a fool to think you of all people would forget so easily.”

“I have to admit, felling a King was by far the most fulfilling thing I’d ever been able to achieve in my short life courtesy of the almighty Void. But to think I’d be granted two opportunities to dispel a lineage.” A low rumble of laughter echoed in the air. “This is something only fate could craft for something of my ability.”

Arvin grit his teeth.

”If you think it is fates doing that you are to have a second chance at my bloodline, then why not come down here and meet my blade!?”

“Because, dearest Arvin, your worth is not her proven. Nor is that of your, what did you call them? Pantheon. How quaint. You address these mortals as that of a Holy Order and claim that your Gods called them all as their servants, yet you speak only lies. They are not special, they are not chosen, they are MORTAL. Pathetic insects that have no place in this world other than Death. However it amuses me to prove you wrong in such a different fashion. So instead of offering you the privilege of being put out of your misery so swiftly by me, I instead offer you more of my armies to play with. Prove me wrong Arvin. Prove to me that you are worth another kill to add to my collection.”

The Baalgar then raised its arms high into the air, fire burning in each skeletal palm and the flames within its chest began to grow more violent as well. An unholy whistle of the wind was uttered around the Party as more and more flames began to consume the Baalgar itself. Once at a breaking point, the flames detached from the tall demon and flickered out to the three Cambions present alongside it. The trio began growling and struggling with themselves as the energy granted to them by the Baalgar flowed through their own bodies. As they continued to struggle, the Baalgar almost seemed to catch its breath before speaking again.

“Though I suppose if you yourself are not worthy, perhaps one day I might find the metal of Aurin, Lyrren, or Fate will it Nemir. Perhaps if you are a big of a failure as your father was, they can instead sate my bloodlust. Until that time. May your false Gods continue to abandon you.”

Fading to smoke once more, the only known member of the Archaic Order disappeared leaving behind its struggling brothers. The Cambions all began breathing heavily and lightly flowed at the forearms. They then began to sound in pain as the sound of splitting bones and flesh filled the air. The party would then see the central Cambion have a massive Chitinous blade erupt from its left forearm, followed by a right one to match it. It’s two other companions also suffered similar changes as the sharp blades burst from nothing. The trio almost appeared to be looking in awe as they viewed the changes, before their unseen eyes returned to the group of mortals before.

Roaring as one, the three leaped from the building above down onto the ground below as the one at the center drug it’s left side blade across the ground in a taunt similar to that of Arvin’s before they all sprung to action.

The one on the right darted straight for Nemir with its new blades swinging wildly at the armor clad woman. The beast at he center drove between the nobles and those who could fight, before advancing on the warriors while the leftern Bladed Cambion stomped toward the two defenseless Nobles.

Without thinking twice, Arvin knew full well that Nemir could handle one of these unholy ascended creatures on her own given that she’d done it many times in the past. The bulk of the group would be wise to work together in taking down the Ferrum Cambion pursuing those warriors on the ground, which just left those defenseless to be protected. The King himself sprung to action and darted towards the sidelines to try and get to Sergio and Aurelia before the slowly advancing Bladed Cambion could cut them down.

As it continued pacing forward, it drug it’s own blades together sending sparks flying in everywhich direction with the menacing and permanent grin in full view among the fires raging around them. Finally it did raise both its arms to smite the two of them in the same instant, and as it sent its arms crashing downward it felt no flesh tearing or bones breaking. Only a solid collision of blade on blades. Arvin had arrived just in time to strike the Champions Blade across the Ferrum Cambion’s intended path, and was now struggling to hold the blades up as pressure persisted downwards.

”Always targeting the defenseless. How pitiful. Unfortunately for you, I’ll not let you torture another soul this day.” Forcing himself forward, he broke the collision and now stood in between the Cambion and the two Nobles among their party. ”Now then. Lets see what your made of.”
Ramjammer Juju seasonedcat The True Plague Jack19XK ItsKenAgain AiDEE-c0

 

[AiDEE-c0]

Tessa Rimbaud
Location: The city rooftops.
Time: Cambion Showdown - Baalrog Appearance
Mentions: Siren77 Ramjammer​

After taking her shot against the cambion, Tessa turned to face the opposite adjacent street from above, reacting to fading yelps calling out for help. Without a moment of hesitation, she quickly paced her eyes around the scene. A set of market stalls stood burning, collapsing further into ash with each second. The calls came from below a fallen support beam, at which fire also bit away steadily and a pair of fledglings encroached. The time to act was not more than ten seconds. The advisor prepared a "feather" in each hand, slipping them in between her middle and index fingers. The demons moved fairly quickly and irregularly, making the decision of trajectory rather tricky. Turning matters even worse, another column shook the ground three seconds in, causing both creatures to jump away in adverse directions, but not slow down. The clap of sound caused Tessa to gently flinch, blinking in the process. This meant the loss of another precious second, yet...

Instead of opening her eyes, she let them remain closed, ceasing her breath and focusing entirely on the screeching and scrawling sounds that the fledglings produced. In relation to the shouts of terror, they were now about four seconds away, frantically crawling forwards. Their direction, their speed, path and movements, they were oh-so primitive, predictable. There resounded one final, pleading shout, followed by nigh silence, only broken apart by the cackling of flame. A second passes and... thud, two of them to be precise. The fledglings lay completely stiffened on their sides, still locked in a pose of locomotion. Out of their skulls peaked the flat blades previously found in Tessa's hands. If the spawns of hell relied on sound to find their way, then silence was the perfect means to dispose of them, that's what the advisor learned during the war. The pillar that covered the unfortunate civilian was soon to dissipate so that it was light enough to be simply pushed away, which meant that Tessa's job was all-well-done.

The advisor was about to grin for herself, when she felt her entire body weight suddenly crashing to the ground, back-first. She gasped as her spine collided with the rooftop. It wasn't enough to even disable her breathing, but the impact wasn't painless either. From below the roof's overhang, a filthy, crooked hand tugged at Tessa's ankle, as-if trying to pull her down into the carnage below. Coming back to her senses, she immediately moved her hand to grasp one of her feathers, raising her upper back with the support of her elbow and bringing the blade right between the tugging claw's knuckles. For just a moment, this caused it to temporarily withdraw, giving Tessa just enough time to move a meter-or-so back, rising to her knees. Exhaling heavily, she observed as a fledgling suddenly darted and descended right in front of her face, smell as vile as anyone would expect. Purposely falling onto her back again, she barely avoided a swipe of talons directed at her throat. Utilizing the motion behind this, she rammed her feet into the creature's chest, causing it to stumble back across the rooftop. It replied with an intensely angry screech, but before it could go on on another offensive, Tessa finally found enough break to let loose a lethally aimed feather.

With an impaled chest, the fledgling fell into the burning wreckage below, just in time for Arvin to finish off the fight he picked, sending the remaining spawn into an almost vegetative state. Tessa, still slightly recovering from the prior experience, let the others pick out what they wished, seeing it unnecessary to waste blades on guideless animals. Yet, this would change with a call from the king, biding the company to press on forward, weeding out the demons that attempted escape like the parasites they were. Seemingly, the Judicator had at last joined the party too, or, that was as much as Tessa could work out before the group was being urged to move on again. Having just caught up on account of difficult terrain, Tessa let out a light sigh, only for her worries of pace to be completely erased by a behemoth of flame appearing out of a cloud of smoke, accompanied by a set of three cambions to boot.

He talked. He talked quite a bit for a sin against nature. But why listen to its babbles? Perhaps, it would be better to just...
Perfect, such a strike would have to be absolutely perfect. What to aim for? The head? The chest? Joints? Perhaps...
Tessa extended her right arm forwards as straight as she could, fingers together and raised towards the sky.
"One of the professors who knew archery taught me this once..."
The length of your fingers, your arm, the height of the enemy, they make triangles! Then, some numbers and without a doubt... Way too far away to aim effectively.
There was one more rooftop to maybe get away with using safely. Would that be enough? The demon that murdered the king is right there, so why was he so far away?
Tessa relieved her stature, realizing that it would probably be better to prepare for what was to come next, instead of aimlessly think-walking in circles or listening to the abomination.
"...The cambions!"
She thought out aloud. Surely enough, the next thing she knew, the Baalgar was gone and the pets that it brought subject to a twisted, rapid evolution. Blades of chitin erupted from beneath their flesh, descending from the rooftop they inhabited. Seeing as they took right for all the members of the troupe, Tessa took an almost impulsive action, sending three waves of successive feathers flying through the air. The aim was once again towards the ankles, yet the trajectories skewed. This resulted in only very slight hits, the kind left to the band-aid to recover.

Regaining some composure, Tessa sought to correct her breathing, taking a few steps back and readying herself to take some hopefully better shots.

 

[ItsKenAgain]

Aurin’s spear returned to his grip as he plucked it from a pool of gods know what that stained the cobblestone street. He wiped it down along with his hands on the bottom of his doublet and then sighed. He used the blade of it to easily tear off the extra fabric draped over his shoulder and across his back, taking the cape in front of him. The Knight wrapped it tightly around his midsection twice, pulling it taught to pressure his wounds, and tying it securely with a short breath through his teeth as he yanked on the ends of the knot.

“Suppose that’ll hold.” He exhaled. His attention was pulled to Arvin’s command to seek out any surviving fledglings, and the Knight accepted this duty, scanning the rubble and sticking his spear in anything nonhuman that remained. Climbing over a pile of smoldering rafters, fallen from a merchant stand he heard a raspy howl and picked up his foot, looking into what he was standing on. Under the thick wooden beams a fledgling appeared to have trapped itself as it devoured whatever inhabitants there had been in the shop. Aurin cocked his head at it condescendingly.

“Looks like you’ve gotten yourself stuck, haven’t you? Your lot truly are some insolent shits.” The creature opened and closed its gaping mouth, strained noises escaping it. How pitiful. Aurin thought sourly, as his spear dismissed the beast back into the Void. As he did so, a rather tall and well armored individual arrived where their group was, along with a blood covered beast Aurin couldn’t quite place, though it looked like a large misshapen canine. The warrior spoke, a female. This must then be Nemir, the Paladin, joining their group at last.

King Arvin caught her up on the happenings within the Pantheon and then bade them all to continue their hunt. Their crusade was cut short however by a deep rumbling ahead. Not only one Cambion, but three clambered onto rooftops which barely held them. They waited though, blocking their path. Aurin pointed his spearhead at them cautiously, watching for their next move. That’s when the hell demon itself came to life through a pillar of smoke in front of them. The Baalgar.

The abomination took its sweet time speaking to the King and of his Pantheon. Aurin listened but dismissed his sin-laced words with resent. Nothing a demon of the Void had to say could have any merit in the eyes of the Gods, thus making it quite an insignificant creature, though a danger and a terror nonetheless. What to do to such a vicious power? The Baalgar was rumored to be the slayer of King Kungen, nobody knew to what extent its capabilities reached. To throw his spear at the Baalgar may have little to no effect other than leaving Aurin weaponless again. The guard of Cambions around it would undoubtedly have their way with him then. So then, do what? Stand and listen to the insults that came from the devil? Is that all he planned to do? He spoke of them being unworthy of a death by him, rasping it in that voice of ash and misery. He instead threatened them with more of his armies. So that was his plan then, to set the Cambions on them? Send more fledglings? Aurin had a taste for their blood now. That was a job he could handle.

“For the one truly forsaken by our Gods, you certainly are a pretentious bastard.” Aurin hissed, rivaling the demon as the Baalgar raised his arms and flared his power, using it to flood the Cambions with freakish growth, and blades of chitling from their arms. The Knight had a hate that fueled him in the face of fear once he realized the extent of his duty. A warrior such as himself had to be ready for a challenge, and what a challenge the Baalgar presented. Cutting through armies, facing this trio of mutated, brawny meatbags, if it brought him closer to the real enemy, Aurin may dare to impress the Baalgar afterall. You may indeed meet my spear, Baalgar. If the gods will it, it shall be. He thought as the hellspawn vaporized back into the ash.

As he went the Cambions began to rush the group. Aurin kept his feet moving, seeking out his first move against them. What to say of these enemies? They obviously differed from the fledglings in strength and intelligence, made more for beating than for eating. Aurin had witnessed little of the King’s duel with the last one, so he pondered how to fight them, especially with those blades. They outsized Aurin more than most, him already being a smaller warrior. He could perhaps use his size and speed to his advantage, and if he could just avoid those forearms, use the Cambions size against them as well. But with these injuries he would surely tire out more quickly. He would have to be tactful and make few mistakes.

The Cambion on the right headed for the Paladin, so that made two left. The one on the left charged for Lady Luxenri and Spymaster Sergio, King Arvin quickly stepped in to rival that one. So that left the one in the center, and the burly heap barreled quickly through their Pantheon, instead going for the soldiers that remained with them. As it drove through their pack exposing its back to him, Aurin suddenly knew how he would use this opening.

The Knight began to run after the Cambion, plan in mind but not much time to think it through. He knew there were only certain weaknesses in a Cambion’s armor, from the knowledge gained in the last war, but this would be his first time attempting to exploit them. He gained speed on it and was right on its heels, the rumbling of its charge drowning out its senses for Aurin’s footsteps. The Knight quickly unsheathed his dagger once more and dove forwards in a lunge. His left hand plunged the blade of the dagger into the flank of the giant’s backside, sinking it into where the armor was weak. His left hand, with the spear fell to the ground still in his grip. As the beast roared and recoiled to turn towards him, Aurin rolled forwards between its legs. Turning onto his back, the Knight narrowly missed one of the Cambion’s giant feet as it came crashing down, the beast still not having found its attacker. Aurin thrust his spear into the Cambion’s stomach, removing it quickly and planting it again.

The blade of his weapon was much shorter than that of a sword. That meant no one blow could be counted on to be a lethal strike against this creature, especially with its armor. He would have to land many hits to disable the beast enough to kill it. Before he could land another strike the Cambion let out a furious growl and slammed its blade onto the ground, causing Aurin to have to roll out of the way. As he did he was met with another strike, the beast pummeling the ground with blows. The Knight, stopped himself just short of the blow and let out a swear, realizing he’d gotten himself in a bind, he only needed a second to get back to his feet, but the Cambion knew exactly where he was now. If one of the others could jump in and distract it with an attack, that would buy him the time he needed to get away from this barrage.


AiDEE-c0 Jack19XK

 

[The True Plague]

Crow felt like he was dying, truth be told. From his wounds? Oh, of course not. Crow was barely hurt physically, although those claw marks still stung like a son of a bitch, truth be told. No, Crow was dying of anticipation as he stood there guarding his home, and the orphans within. For the moment, the area was clear of moving enemies, which struck him as rather odd, truth be told. He'd been killing Fledglings in groups of twos and threes for a little bit, and yet, they've stopped coming for the most part. If Crow were to guess, he'd say they finally realized there were easier targets elsewhere... He doubted it though, since that would be implying Fledglings are intelligent, which they're not. Cambions were the ones he'd call 'intelligent' and that's a generous usage of the word at that. They're not quite intelligent as much as they're simply able to direct Fledglings. The demons were still beasts, and beasts he understood well at that.

With all of this nothing going on, Crow allowed himself to muse on the situation a little bit. Here he was, once more defending others at the cost of himself to ensure their safety and health. Almost reminded him of the battlefields back when he was serving as a sort of medic. It was more just working as a wack doctor, stabilizing the fighters enough to send them back into the grinder of war, knowing full well that the work he did wasn't enough, but was all he could do. However, unlike then, he didn't have others fighting alongside him, he was alone, back to the door of his home as he pushed back demons. He simply had to hold out until someone could come to get his orphans and take them somewhere safe, then he could rejoin the King. Till then, he'll simply be here, creating a psuedo-safe zone. After all, he is one man, one man hopped up on some combat drugs that he may or may not keep on him in case such a situation occurs, but one man nonetheless. He wasn't even an actual warrior, and honestly if the beings he fought were actually intelligent, or human, he'd be in a bit of a pickle fighting like this.

As it stands though, he is perfectly fine like this. The Fledglings came in small enough groups that he could repel them. Sure, he'd take a few scratches that he'll need to clean and go over sometime soon, but a few scratches was better than being killed. It helped that Fledglings were barely better than wild beasts in an actual fight, and also that Crow wrote the metaphorical book on fighting demons due to his time spent dissecting demons and observing the battles of armies vs demon hordes. For Fledglings, his ax served well enough to cut down to bone without much effort, though he knew better than to try and get through the bone. So instead of going for the heart, or lopping off the head, he tore through organs and disemboweled the beasts. The ones stuck on his ax would be used to bludgeon their fellows and further his blade through it until it split in half. If Crow were to face a Cambion, he'd probably have a bit of a struggle, but he does know a bit what he'd do. Ax through the joints, he'd have to actually put his muscles into it, but if he takes the legs, he'd probably reasonably be able to cut through the arms or at least leave it there to bleed out. This is assuming of course, it doesn't manage to hit him given a single hit will more than likely be enough to cripple him or outright kill him depending on where he is hit. No chance of shoving it aside either. The only person he is fairly certain could shove a Cambion was Nemir herself, and even then, he'd imagine it'd be a bit of a contest of strength even for her.

Crow's musings were disturbed by what sounded like footsteps nearby. Swift, but heavy. Too heavy for a Fledgling, especially given they're normally silent in terms of their steps. Their noises gave them away. Too light to be a Cambion, and given by how close it sounded, he'd be able to notice a Cambion moving that swiftly towards him. So reasonably, Crow presumed it to be human in nature... Not that this information caused him to ease up. In fact, it put him more on edge knowing others were coming near him. All it would take is someone destroying a window to end up killing off all those he had inside, and get him killed as well due to being encircled. Thankfully, he had only one window, and that was near the front so that others could see if he was busy or not. Furthermore, in chaos like this, the worst of man usually comes out. People looking to steal in the chaos, or to get away with terrible crimes in the hopes that others won't realize a crime was committed due to the rest of the carnage. Did it make sense? To Crow, not really. After all, all you're doing is putting yourself at risk to do that, but he could see the appeal of it. When your life seems to be crashing down around you, your loved ones dying in the streets and your livelihood destroyed and burning, why not give in to the insanity around you?

The mild musing of mostly malignant thought was mercifully cut short as he saw a singular man rush out from the rubble across the street. He knew this man well, for he often took care of him. Bit too old to accept him as Uncle Crow, but Crow didn't mind his presence. Most likely not the only one who'll come rushing to his home throughout this night in hopes of a safe place to hide. Crow, of course, didn't exactly open up his door though, smiling politely behind his mask. "Halt right there, come closer at your own peril friend!" Crow seemed happy to see the man, regardless of his decision to refuse the man entrance at the moment. "I'll need you to show me you have no weapons on you. I trust you about as far as I could throw you at the moment. Got a few friends inside and don't want to see them hurt. Can't be too trusting on this night after all."

"... Fine Crow. Only for you though." The older man simply waggled his finger as he began showing off everywhere he could reasonably be hiding a weapon at the moment. There was a bit of urgency to it, but the man was clear of weapons. "As you can see, no weapons. Just because I come here for help after a crime or two went wrong, you assume I'd carry weapons man? That shit would only weigh me down, and it's not like I can fight these demons. I'm not a young man anymore."

"Oh please, you make me look old, but shut up. Not safe out here." Crow gestured the man forward with his ax. Once the man was close enough, he'd open the door and step aside, letting the old man in and slamming the door shut. This noise, apparently, was loud enough to gain the attention of a few Fledglings, which, you know what, is fair. Momma always told him not to slam doors. Apparently it does attract demons... Or he's just really fucking unlucky. That also is a fair option that he could see being the case. It can't be both though, if it was both, it'd summon a Cambion and not some Fledglings... Four fledglings. Shouldn't be too hard, he killed just as many when he got out initially. "Now, I know what you're thinking. Man that guy is a snack. You're wrong. What I am, is your doom." That seemed to only rile up the demons, who more than likely didn't understand a single word of what he said. A shame that he bothers to waste energy on keeping up a conversation sometimes, but it helped keep him sane. At least the demons were better partners for conversation than the nobles were.

Why were they? Well, the demons got right to the point of the matter. No dancing about the issue or trying to be subtle. They simply screamed and charged him like bats outta hell, which only is half correct.They're not bats. Neither was his ax, but he could understand how you'd confuse the two objects as he swung his ax wide, knocking two demons out of the way as he caught them in their open mouths and moved through, embedding his ax in the side of a third demon. The fourth slammed into the wall because they're trying to leap into a small space that they couldn't all fit into. The demon on his axe howled in rage and ripped itself off his ax, staggering once it hit the ground only to collapse seconds latter as its organs began to freely fall. Sure, they had significantly less organs from what he could tell, but that just means the organs are more important and serve more functions. Which makes it a bit of an issue when they're outside the body. The waterfall of blood beforehand simply is icing on the cake.

The demons, in true noble fashion, ignored the plight of their fellow to continue after him. Two of them rushed him on the ground, as the last one decided to leap above them. Must've thought attacking from two levels of elevation would be difficult. He rather swiftly dissuaded them of that by smashing the leaping one in the face with the flat head of his ax, and pinning it down by putting his right foot on its neck. Sure, it clawed the ground trying to find purchase to crawl away, but Crow was hardly bothered. With one rightfully kept under heel, he had enough time to choose a demon. An overhead swing of his ax came down, akin to an execution, as the demon on his left was parted with its head. Beautiful. The body seemed to go forward a little bit longer, bumping into his left leg before collapsing in a quickly forming pool of blood. The other demon grabbed a hold of his leg, claws digging into the thick leather of his outfit. In a few spots, it completely broke through, and drew blood. Crow ignored this though, because, wisely enough, Crow knew he'd be injured doing this and had already braced for it. When the demon began attempting to separate his foot from his leg by yanking back and digging his claws in, Crow ended it by kicking it square in the jaw and slamming his ax into it's exposed stomach. A yank backwards and upwards ended up being enough to split it open from the diaphragm down. Neat. Demon organs. Disgusting smells that will stick around his home for a few days.

"Now then, as for you... Well, there isn't much to say. Well, besides it sucks to suck." Crow switched which foot was holding down the Fledgling at the neck, a wicked smile curling his lips as he began stomping the thing's head into the ground. One stomp earned nothing, the second as well. The third saw the beginning of its end though as there was a soft cracking noise. The fourth stomp yielded a much louder cracking noise. The sixth dented the skull, and the seventh broke through. How did he know? The immediate ceasing of its struggles would indicate that the bone found its way into the brain. Three more stomps were enough to flatten the head and cover his boot and the bottom of his robes in blood, bone, and brain. Overkill? Yes. Necessary? No. Did it feel good though? Oh hell to the fucking yes. That's all that really mattered in this context though. After all, with demons running amok, who in their goddamned mind would be worried about him being unnecessarily brutal in the dispatching of a single fledgling? Nobody who matters.

With the brief bit of action done, Crow was forced back into waiting for demons to come to him. After all, he had no real reason to bother hunting them down. All that does is endanger those he seeks to protect. Not to mention his goal of waiting till somebody can come to protect them works much better if he stayed in one place. Better to stay at an obvious location, than it does to wander around in the hopes of running into those capable of helping protect these orphans and the old man that showed up. So, Crow returned to his musing on what to do about this situation. For one, he was going to see if there were any Cambion corpses around when this was over. Why? Simple. He's always been curious if he could tan the hide of one and make demon leather. If he could make a robe out of Cambion hide, he'd effectively have armor that demons would have trouble getting through. The main issue is trying to get the hide of the upper body. Yes, he's skinned a dead Cambion before. Sadly, his attempts damaged the upper armor too much to make for useful armor. Oh, also it'd be difficult to work with in terms of sewing it together. He'd need the hide to still be tough enough to be hard to pierce, whilst somehow getting needle and thread through it... Or, if he could find a blacksmith with dubious enough morals, he could enlist some help in binding the leather with molten metal. Would make it heavier, but takes away a weakness in the design in terms of soft spots to aim for. That is assuming, of course, that things work like that. He is no blacksmith after all. He just imagined that if he filled the gaps in with melted metal, and allowed it to cool and harden, it'd hold the leather together. If nothing else, he could use it to simply bind it together. Like, slot the hide into the metal, and somehow force the two parts together for a sort of layered effect? Bah, getting too far ahead. He'd have to find enough usable demon hide to actually get that done. Which may take forever, because Cambions don't die all that often, or at least, not die and still be usable later on for harvesting. Unlike Fledglings, Cambions will typically only die in battle... Though now Crow shall wonder on the merits of poison. After all, a strong enough poison should be enough to melt the insides of the demon, and once it's dead, Crow could use the mostly unharmed hide.

Though now that Crow thought about it, he sincerely doubted that Arvin would allow him to do that. After all, it is bad enough that Crow already has the moniker of the Demon Doctor, or Double D for short. How much worse would the rumors get if Crow is found wearing a robe made of harvested demon leather? Who knows, maybe that'd be the straw that breaks the camel's back and Crow will finally be set up on a guillotine or left for the gallows. Not even Arvin could save him from the ire of the nobility and clergy combined. As much as Crow hated to admit it, Arvin just didn't have the power necessary to save him in that scenario. This doesn't necessarily ruin the possibility of doing the demon leather robe... Just not at the moment. It could wait until Arvin is more firmly seated as ruler, not like the demon leather is going anywhere at the moment. Oh, but one must wonder why he wants Cambion leather specifically, and can't just use Fledgling leather. The answer is simple really, it is all in the thickness. Fledgling leather is about as good as any other hide, given it can be pierced easily enough much like any other animal. Cambions though, are rougher and thicker. Thus, in terms of protection, Crow would want Cambion leather.

Crow's attention was stolen from the truly important issues, to the less important but still extremely relevant issues. For example, right in front of Crow's eyes, was a group of twelve fledglings rushing him. Guess they finally got tired of dying in twos and threes, sometimes fours. That's fair... But annoying. You see, Crow really enjoyed living. Good thing Crow has a solution for this issue right here. As the pack rushed him, Crow reached into his robes and pulled out another of his bottles of mysterious liquid, downing it with a bit of gagging at the taste. Note to self, enhance the flavor of the stimulants, they're not supposed to taste like cabbage. With the bottle empty, and not really needing to save it, Crow threw it into a fledgling's face, watching it shatter and cut the surrounding demons, which gave him some time to plan this next bit out. Oh, did we say plan? There is no plan but to rip and tear.

With energy coursing through Crow, and a fine numbing sensation removing the aches of his muscles and the stinging of his wounds, Crow began to reap what has been sown. His axe swung true, removing two from the fight as their bodies lay twitching. Severed the spine, but didn't quite get a clean cut. Chipped the blade, but those two won't be getting back up. Another swing would find it's way into the skull of one Fledgling, who was flung off after being used to break the back of another. That makes one semi-live Fledgling, three dead ones. Two Fledglings were attempting to scramble over their fallen fellows. Six fledglings launched at Crow, and only three actually managed to do anything with it. Two of them slammed into each other, one missed completely and hit the wall. The other three though? Their attempts netted them something. One dug its filthy claws into his shoulder, but failed to actually latch on, leaving three jagged cuts. The other two managed to grab a hold of his legs and hold him place. Crow wasn't phased per se, but he was prepared for such an event. How does one prepare for this? You don't. He's bullshitting.

Crow bent over slightly at the waist and with two swings relinquished the arms of the Fledglings from the Fledglings' body. Each got a harsh kick for their efforts, breaking the jaw of one and simply knocking over the other. Crow left them to bleed out as he took the one that hurt him out of this realm. "Rot in the loving embrace of your Abyss, foul beast." He growled out, turning around just in time to be knocked over by three Fledglings, two more holding down his arms. Well son of a fucking bitc- Wait, why is he able to think and why is he currently not mauled to death? Oh, and why hasn't anybody told him it was screaming time? Because that's what the Fledglings started doing. Grabbing their head and screaming in pain for a good few seconds before just... Stopping. Oh... Their Cambion died. Isn't that just a shame? "Well, no need to cry. You'll get to meet him again." Crow was much slower than he'd like in standing up, but stand he did. The elixir was rather quickly wearing out, so Crow took up his ax and began his harvest. One. Two. Three. Four. Fledglings dead on the floor. Five. Six. All these demons can eat a fucking dick. With the nearest Cambion dead, Crow limped into his home, ignoring the shocked cry of the orphan group.

"RAVEN! Get me the alcohol and the bandages, now!" Crow's voice was harsh, limping over toward the nearest wall and rifling through the assorted bottles before finding a sickly green liquid sloshing in a dusty bottle. With a bit of effort, Crow removed his robes and started on cleaning his wounds. How did he clean these wounds? Well, it started with dribbling a bit of the green liquid on his wounds. Each drop hissed and steamed, yet Crow didn't wince. He was in Doctor Mode at the moment. Pain didn't matter, fixing the wound did. Clean it, wrap it, move on. This liquid here was for any weird, supernatural diseases the demons may be carrying. Crow didn't care if it sounded dumb, he's seen perfectly healthy men and women be treated with normal wound cleanings after fights, only for them to still get sick, through the wrappings and alcohol to clean it. Changed daily, cleaned daily, still sick. Nasty sonsofbitches.

Raven made her presence known by pressing a cold, alcohol soaked cloth to the first wound she found, that being the marks on his shoulder. "You really need to be more careful, Uncle Crow. We almost lost you it seems." She spoke pointedly, a bit of anger hidden with sweet intentions. Sure, she was slightly rough with the rubbing and cleaning, but you really gotta get in deep there. So, the next few minutes were spent with Raven tormenting Crow with the rough treatment he often gave problematic patients, before finally being handed the gauze.

"I'm going to need you to get me the metal circle in my room, and a flame. Do that, and I'll handle the rest." Crow spoke evenly, slowly applying to the gauze to himself. Thrice around the torso to cover the varied cuts and scratches. Twice around the elbows due to the demons digging in there. Bottom of his right leg needed four layers. However, Crow couldn't wrap the shoulder wounds due to not only the spots they were in, but because he'd need to get back out there soon to ensure none of the wild fledglings came aknocking, or any organized, well tamed fledglings either. The night was far from over for Crow, and more than likely, he'd be needed once the demons are driven back so as to properly handle the dead, dying, and wounded. It's gonna be a long couple of days with intermittent naps that will be lucky to be as long as half an hour. Good thing he's used to long nights and ungrateful patients at the worst of hours. His musings were interrupted by a loud scream. Who is screaming, you may wonder?

Well, Crow was. Why? Because Raven, being an ungrateful bitch about him putting his life on the line for his lovely orphans, had decided that she'd go around and do what he was gonna do for him. Except, without the benefit of him numbing said areas first, or giving him a warning. She simply pressed the heated metal to his skin, and giggled innocently as Crow cursed up a storm aimed at her ungrateful actions. Cauterizing a wound is never fun, especially when your 'doctor' decides to surprise you with it. He is going to have a talk with her later, but for now, he has better things to do. With a slightly pained smile, Crow pulled Raven into a hug. "You're in so much trouble when this is over." With that, he lightly tapped her forehead with the beak of his mask and stood back up.

Crow grabbed his robes, a handful of spices and herbs that he pushed into the beak of his mask, and stepped back outside... Only to come back in to put said robes on, and grab his ax. He'd need to take it in for repairs and give it a good clean. Chipped in multiple spots, coated in demon blood and bile. It served him well enough for now, and hopefully will continue to do so. He'd prefer to keep it as a memento after all. Oh, not to mention he'd have to climb back up his stairs to get his knife if the ax broke, which may be time he doesn't have. Also knives aren't as effective as an ax for annihilating demon ass. Even if this knife was nearly long enough to be a sword. An ax worked for reckless abandon, but a knife required some skill, and outside of the surgery table, he was kinda rusty. So hopefully, he'll have time to get this fixed long before it breaks. If push comes to shove, he could get a new ax afterwards, but he'd rather keep this one. It has value in terms of sentiments.

So. Crow returned to the worst enemy of every fighter. Anticipation. Waiting tensely for the next enemy to appear, to have something to direct his fury towards. The last idle musing Crow allowed himself to have before returning to his vigilant watch, was that the King and the rest of the Pantheon was doing well. It would be extremely annoying for him if he had to handle their injuries alongside all the rest. Doubly so because Crow can, and will, prioritize their injuries given their importance. Yes, even that of Aurelia's injuries if she were injured. She'd not be the first to be seen of course. It'd be Arvin, then Lyrren, Tessa, Nemir if she happened to be there, Sergio, Aurin, and then Aurelia. This list is totally unbiased, and merely in terms of who is most important. Totally unbiased. However, he's indulged in his musings enough now. Now he simply needs to focus on one thing and one thing only. That one thing, of course, was watching out for anymore demons or people heading his way.

Siren77 Juju seasonedcat AiDEE-c0 Jack19XK ItsKenAgain Ramjammer

 

[Juju]

"Unsavory is one way to put it..." Aurelia grumbled hotly, though it was only half-hearted in light of her growing fear. Having now entered the main streets, the group was in the heart of the invasion, with fledglings falling in on either side of the city guard. Gnarled claws thrashed against sword and shield in a writhing wave, forcing the soldiers and Aurelia into a tighter formation. More than once she was pushed back simply from the force of the demon's onslaught.

When Aurin told she and Sergio to keep with the guards Aurelia felt her stomach twist. "Wait, where are you going?" she demanded, a little more desperately than she would have liked, but if Aurin heard her he made no response other than charging back out into the fray.

"Great. Just great!"Aurelia breathed, stumbling back as another fledgling crashed into a guard in front of her.

Incapable of doing anything else, Aurelia could only observe the battle in front of her. Aurin's spear had found itself a target and she saw it dance a bloody duet with a fledgling, ending with a graceful thrust into its foe's skull. The grace of his movements reminded her of a painter, though his canvas was that of carcasses and his ink a blood of the same hue. It was a rare thing for a man to live up to his reputation, but for once Aurelia was glad Aurin did. She didn't personally care for his wellbeing, but he was one of the best fighters here and if he died then what chance did her band of city guards have?

Meanwhile, the king and prince were busy with their own struggles, just barely discernible in the twisting mass of blood, horns, and steel. Towering above it all, she could see the Cambium clashing blades with Arvin. He was still facing it alone, which was either a testament to his strength or his foolishness. It was said that a single strike from one of those creatures could cave in armour plating, and the only thing the king was wearing was his party clothes. Could he really defeat it single-handedly?

She only tore her eyes away from the king's battle when one of the meatshields soldiers in front of her fell backwards out of line. He crashed to the ground, pinned by misshapen fingers that curled beneath his chest plate, prying it off as if it were nothing but a clamshell. In a final struggle for his life, the soldier wrestled with the fledgeling, rolling towards Aurelia and Sergio. There was a cracking of bone and a strangled wail as the fledgling snapped the man's arms back and bit into the man's exposed chest, gorging itself on the still-beating heart. Blood spattered across Aurelia's face, and she tried to back away only to realize in a moment of dread that the hem of her dress was skewered under the fledgling's hind claw.

Aurelia froze, every muscle in her body turning to stone save the runaway thrum of her heart, thundering in her ears so loudly she was afraid the creature might hear it. If it did, it paid her no mind, too caught up in its frenzied feast. What could she do? She wasn't a fighter and any sudden movements would draw its attention, but if she stayed here it would soon discover a second meal just waiting to be ripped apart.

That's when she remembered the knife hidden away in her bodice and a desperate, stupid idea entered her mind. Slowly, she reached into her bodice, wrapping her fingers around the knife she had taken from the party. As deftly as she thought she pulled it out of its hiding place, even the slight movement caused the demon to pause.

She lifted her hands up and it turned its head, mouth red and slick from its meal. Aurelia could see bits of flesh clinging between each of its jagged fangs but it was too late for second-guessing. The knife came down into its shoulder, or at least that was the general area she aimed at. Steel sunk into the soft flesh and a demonic howl rose up. In agony it twisted away, but so too did the knife, jarred from Aurelia's fingers in the sudden violent movement. The wound was amateur at best, but it was enough to shift the demon's paw off of her dress, allowing Aurelia to stumble back, avoiding the brunt of its swipes. Its talons raked through the skirt of her dress, but thanks to the sheer bulk of the puffy cloth her legs were safe. There were thin slash marks on her sleeve, but she didn't even notice them or the red growing beneath the silk.

Aurelia was shaking. Did she just do that? She wondered at her own actions in disbelief before coming to realize that she only really succeeded in angering the beast. It dug its claws into the ground and crouched down with a hiss, ready to pounce, but before it could leave the ground it was kicked by a nearby soldier, who soon found fangs sinking into his leg. He didn't last very long, but this time the fledgling didn't stop to eat. It turned around and screeched at Aurelia and Sergio, but was soon cut off when a blast of fire sent it flying. Aurelia whipped her head around to see Prince Lyren, her eyes a mixture of surprise, relief, and awe.

Her father had said their blessings were mostly an exaggeration of their devotees, a party trick at best, but this was far from true. The gods themselves seemed distant and neglectful in all but the legends she loved, but at this display of power she couldn't help but feel a glimmer of hope. Were the stories true and they Kasai's blessed champions?

At the prince's suggestion to stay close, Aurelia merely gave a nod and obeyed. There wasn't a single snarky remark from her, or any words for that matter. She quietly watched Lyren and the other soldiers fight in a daze. Her eyes drifted over to the king's battle and it was only when the cambium spewed flames from its maw, engulfing the king, did she snap out of it. Aurelia covered her mouth, thinking he had fallen and hope was lost, only to see Arvin appear on the other side of the fire and drive his sword through the brute.

Without their leader, the fledglings crumbled and Aurelia was able to breathe easy, yet just when the battle appeared to be won a chill struck the air. She had seen the figure that appeared from the smoke in a thousand illustrations, courtesy of a childhood fascination with the hellspawn, but she would have known the being even if she was blind. The Baalgar.

"Oh gods..." Aurelia muttered, trying to keep her composure as she listened to the demon's words.

She assumed it would smite them all down where they stood, but instead it seemed to want to test the king. Strangely enough, it was strikingly similar to something Aurelia had once read, though the major deviation was the mutation of the trinity of cambiums below. Aurelia had half the sense to start backing away but in the end it hardly made a difference. One of the cambiums locked eyes with her and advanced, dragging its chitinous blade along the ground as if to remind her of what was to come. Aurelia shuffled backwards, choking on a scream as the towering creature grew steadily closer.

She threw her arms in front of her face, cowering behind them with eyes screwed shut. It was sure to be her end, but just as she began to pray to the gods she hardly believed in there was a resounding clang of metal. When Aurelia dared to open her eyes once more she saw the king crossing blades with the mutated cambium, holding back the strike that would have killed her. He was so close she could see every burn seared into the flesh of his back and sides. It looked immensely painful, and yet he was continuing to fight.

"Arvin!?" she cried in disbelief, tears of relief stinging at the corners of her eyes.

For a moment, she was foolish enough to believe that heroes could exist.

Siren77 ItsKenAgain seasonedcat

 

[seasonedcat]

~Sergio~​

Sergio's lips parted in awe as he saw the smoke coming from fires that burned ablaze in the city formed figures. It was simply remarkable, was the demon here in flesh, or was this an illusion that he was able to use? It truly was an interesting thing. It didn't take the thing much time after it formed to look directly at the king. It's voice sent a shiver down the spymaster's spine as he stared up at in wonder. It had been the one who had ended the last king's life and it clearly intended to do the same thing with the new king. This would cause some problems in the King's mission to get rid of the demons. The thing had got rid of the last king, and now the one they had was younger and less skilled than the last. What hope did they have to do a better job than the last king if they don't even have all the advantages of the last king?

This wasn't going to be easy. However, thankfully the thing didn't want to kill the king this time, similar to why you don't want to eat undercooked meat and left it on the fire longer until it was perfect. The thing would wait until the king was stronger when he actually stood a chance, so there was so form of challenge. It wanted to have fun, not win a game that was clearly too easy for it. It also meant the thing got to watch as humanity's hope for the future grew with the king's strength before it was once again demolished by the end of the Kings life. A satisfactory game for the creature indeed, something it was going to enjoy.

As it disappeared Sergio cast his glance to his surroundings once again. The streets were littered with bodies of both demons and humans, truly a massacre for both parties. Blood stained the stone streets and ash rained from the sky. No one was expecting a battle right now, no one was ready. Citizens that were once celebrating were now lying in dead heeps across the city's streets. This wasn't going to be something the city will be able to recover from so easily. There was going to be much loss and anguish, people will be looking for someone to blame, and most likely would blame the King for not knowing about the attack.

He also knew that even with how many people they saved tonight, it would never be equivalent to who was lossed. People would focus far more on who they lost than they who they saved, it was easier to look at it that way after all, and is the default action that most people take in this situation. Bad things always do seem to take human's attentions far more easily than good things do. There was also going to be many expenses in both repairs and humanitarian aid. This was going to cost much more than the festival that had occurred only earlier that night. This wasn't an ideal situation at all.

Sergio wondered how many he lost in this fight, how many of his spies got caught in the crossfire or got butchered in the streets. He would have to find people to replace them as well in this situation, and that was also no going to be an easy task. He would have to have trustworthy and skilled spies for his work, and if he lost any of his best spies it would be a very difficult thing to come back from, some of them have been with him since he started his little game. They would be the worst to lose, they knew what he wanted and how he acted, they were perfect for their job and were skilled enough to stay alive all this time. That would hit his business hard.

Sergio's eyes widened as he saw Aurelia cower from a cambion before her. Sergio let out a 'tch', that wasn't good, if she continued to stand there she would be killed. Sergio pulled out one of his dangers and held it in his hands. He wasn't the best fighter, nor thought he could best the beast, but he had to try or else Aurelia would be killed along with himself afterwards, and frankly Aurelia was useful in his work and he couldn't afford for her to die here. Taking a breath he took a step towards her, ready to run and strike it before suddenly the king appeared to defend her. Sergio let out a breath, looks like he wouldn't have to fight after all. He lowered his dagger and watched the king with awe, definitely not admiring him.
Siren77 Juju

 

[Siren77]

‘So, the Baalgar chose to rear its ugly head then huh? For what purpose? If not to kill me or any of my other compatriots, then why arrive and challenge us with its bastard brothers to fight us?! Surely it knew our defenses were weakened, it knew we weren’t expecting it or any other extent of the forces of Hell. It’s purely taunting us! Treating us like toys, leaving us to fend off lesser demons to ‘Prove our Worth.’ We’re no serious threat in its eyes. Only entertainment. Is this how father was treated? Is that how he died? Slain as a mere toy against the Baalgars lone force? At least in that instance it had the decency to fight him. Here I’m nothing more than a pest, a mere fly to be swatted away. Surely I’m nowhere near fathers strength, so I shouldn’t be surprised. I’m nothing, but only to them am I nothing. It wants me to prove my worth? Then I will do so, with all of my might. I’m going to banish these repulsive bastards to the darkest pit of hell, and leave them there to rot! Then, mark my words Baalgar. I will hunt you down, and I will watch as the pride drains from your flaming eyes as I rend your skull from your neck!’

It must be a common item amongst creatures of demonic intent to always challenge Arvin’s authority and treat him as some sort of unworthy child. Well, enough was enough. He may not be able to strike out against his fellow man, no matter how much they try his patience. But these muscly and annoying Cambions have made themselves perfect candidates for his pent up aggression. They weren’t the ultimate target who’s head he desired, but they would serve him well as little more then practice dummies. Fleshy, destructible, and blood filled practices dummies. One step at a time though, the other two were focused on their own targets as was he. Defeating this one Cambion was all he could do for now.

Twirling his blade about, Arvin met the gaze of the advanced Cambion before him and looked back toward the two Nobles with a kind smile on his face.

”Miss Luxenri, I think it wise that you take cover elsewhere. The black blood of this beast wouldn’t look at all flattering on your beautiful red dress. Mister Sergio, if you’d be so kind as to guide her to some place of shelter that would be wonderful. In the meantime,” Arvin turned back to the Cambion, ”I’ll keep our friend here busy.”

As the King braced his body and raised his sword, he felt his muscles cry in pain from both the soreness and the bruising. It also didn’t help that his skin was either charred or burned in some areas. Without his armor he had sustained far more damage than normal. Crow was gonna give him hell for this, that much was certain. But at least he knew that the old man wouldn’t let him die. At least he probably wouldn’t. Hopefully. Right? Whatever the case, Arvin wouldn’t think on it too long. Right now he needed to focus on protecting Sergio and Aurelia. Standing firm in his ready position, Arvin prepared to take on the Bladed Cambion as the beast paced back and forth in front of him. It looked almost human in the way that it demonstrated impatience and irritation. Snidely raising its head as it snorted and grunted over and over again, it reminded Arvin that it was still only animal in nature. Any creature could display emotion just as well, so the Cambion was no different.

Finally the beast was to take a step forward and bury its right blade deep into the ground before flinging it upward, sending all manner of stones, blood, dust, and debris Arvin’s way. Instantly he was reminded of his Battle with Nemir in both of them using this method of obscuring his vision. This time however, a clod of dirt had managed to make impact with the forehead of the King and stain his eyes with dirt that he was temporarily blinded. Grunting in discomfort and slight pain, Arvin cursed under his breath as he did his best not to move and focus his hearing. This time there wasn’t even a chance of sight, and given how foreign the dirt felt on his eyes it was even worse to conflict with his focus. Not to mention there was far more noise going on in this battlefield as his Pantheon battles with the other two of the triplets. But blindly swinging his blade around or trying to move would prove far worse, so he still sat idle and waited for noise.

Fortunately, the Cambion possessed a heavy weight to its massive build, so it wasn’t hard to make out the sound of its stomping feet as it ran close. Now there was just the issue of knowing where it’s strike would come from. Trusting fate, Arvin directed his blade in front of his body to provide a better reaction time and still awaited some indication of a slice. He felt nothing, until the dust began to part to the right side of his head. It was barely felt by him, but it was the best he could do and flicked his blade out to parry the potential strike. Sure enough, his sword pinged against the Cambions chitin blade. It had obviously put all of its wait into the blow, as it was sent stumbling backwards a few paces. Not to mention it also l left a numb feeling in his right shoulder.

Trying to take the moment to open his eyes and clear out the dirt, Arvin would find that it only made the situation worse in that he only moved the dirt around against his eyes instead of actually removing the particles. It seemed only a nice cold splash of water could clean out the disturbance and return his sight.

He was stuck fighting blind.

Juju seasonedcat

 

[Ramjammer]

Despite the young King's assurances to the contrary, Nemir wasn't at all enthused about being forced into another round of babysitting. And she was especially disinterested in diverting part of her energy towards protecting a pair of Nobles. The foppishly dressed man that Arvin gestured to looked about as useful in a fight as dull blade. There may have been something there, but they'd never get the chance to find out if he never honed himself. His eyes in particular rankled at the woman's instincts. Nemir had yet to be introduced to him properly, but his keen gaze gave her all that she needed to know. He was a man that looked like he knew too much. His were the eyes of a predator.

It was a double-edged sword if there was one. If there was any danger, he'd spot it. And he'd remove himself from harm's way appropriately. He might even be inclined to warn them of it, provided he was feeling generous. But the Paladin knew, without knowing that trusting him beyond that was out of the question.

The girl clinging to him; she didn't look old enough to be called woman just yet, struck Nemir as the sort to complain endlessly. About the state of her hair, her tattered skirts, the blood and soot staining the fine silks she'd adorned herself in. If there was something that could be called an inconvenience in the slightest, she'd scream about it.

The Paladin knew well how high a Noblewoman's voice could pitch whenever she was upset. Her mood soured when she recalled one in particular. The woman had she'd been escorting had been so incensed to hear that a wheel on her Carriage had broken, effectively making her late for some High Born engagement or other, that she'd begun to wail. That she was an adult woman had been more than enough to irritate Nemir. But her voice had become so loud, and so shrill that Ghan pressed his ears tightly to his skull and whimpered in obvious pain.

The noise had also inadvertently attracted a pack of Wolves who'd then proceeded to attack all of her servants and several of her ladies-in-waiting.

Once the dust cleared, and they had driven away the damn things, no one wanted to point to the true reason for the impromptu mauling. But there passed between them all a silent agreement. It was an incident that had stuck with Nemir for years afterwards. And was but one of many reasons on an ever growing list concerning her dislike of Nobility. They attracted Wolves. And nobody liked Wolves.

"If she screams, I will have words for her." The Paladin said blandly, as if hours spent slogging to the City and fending off an army of Demons somehow hadn't irritated her. Ghan seemed less affected than his Mistress, bouncing up and down on his paws as his bushy tail wagged in obvious excitement. If it weren't for her state of dress, it would be fair to assume that Nemir was just a nameless Plebian that had wandered into the battle alongside her misshapen dog. She and the Hyena looked the part for it anyhow. And the Paladin's demeanor in the thick of combat tended to be display an eerie disinterest in everything going on around her.

She couldn't be bothered to assure anyone otherwise. Nemir knew her inner turmoil well enough. And even as she gazed silently on as Arvin swore to exact vengeance by whatever means necessary, she at least agreed with the man's words. But what was radical and life changing to the young, would always be obvious to the old. Nemir could not muster the strength to grow angry, not because she didn’t have it in her, or because she didn't care. The truth, as always was much worse.

She'd simply been here before.

"The Gods will witness Arvin. They always do." She mumbled. A metal-clad hand came up and very gently grasped at the seething man's shoulder. It was as much of an assurance for Nemir as it was for Arvin. Kungen was dead, and his legacy rested upon Arvin's shoulders. If he were to get himself killed on her watch, it would not only render her promise to him null, but it would do little more than to shuffle an increasing burden from Arvin's shoulders onto Lyren's. The Wheel would make yet another dreadful turn, and then....Only the God's knew what came after. Nemir could not stop the Wheel's turning, but she could delay it for a small time.

"Claim vengeance, Little King. And stoke the fires of your hatred." Odd words from a Paladin. But Nemir had always been odd. "But that vengeance is not yours to keep. It belongs to the lost souls that now roam these bloodied streets. Your hatred must not be the poisoned result of the Demon's actions here today. Only the reflection of your love for this Kingdom and her people made manifest. A cudgel to beat back the encroaching darkness. Temper you blows with mindfulness, lest you end up destroying what remains."

It wasn't Nemir's intention to lecture the man. Not after everything he'd lost. Even if they survived the battle, the events of the day would forever stain the Kingdom's opinion of Arvin. He'd failed to foresee the disaster. And no matter how valiantly he fought, they would always dangle the countless losses suffered over his head. They were all facing dark times, and Arvin had the misfortune of bearing the responsibility of not merely fending them off, but of also explaining his failure to forestall them at all.

It was about as harsh a fate as any man could be doled out.

But Nemir had seen the look in his eyes as he spoke. That certain gleam that led more men and women to their doom than she cared to recall. It was a burning flame stoked within the soul. One borne of righteousness, but all too often it would die out because of avarice and sorrow. Nemir had no way of saving every soul that survived the day's events from that fate. But she could save Arvin. It was at least enough for her.

If her words had struck a chord within the man, Nemir would never really know. The small area had grown quiet, or as quiet as it could get amid a still burning city. Fires burned all around and every so often Nemir could catch the faint sound of screaming. The Demons continued to find victims and with each passing second that number grew. Arvin was right to get them all moving, but they never made it far.

She'd at first mistaken it for another random noise amidst the chaos. The groaning of a wooden structure collapsing, the crackling of flames and the constant tumble of stone walls collapsing made sifting through each new sound nearly impossible. But when the smoke thickened without warning, rendering the way forward impassible and nearly blinding her, Nemir knew then that outside forces were at play.

The sound of clay tiles tumbling from their place on the roofs above them drew her gaze upward. The Paladin's hand clenched unconsciously around her blade as three hulking figures dragged themselves into view. She could only just make them out amidst the constantly swirling plume of smoke, but the Judicator knew a Cambion when she saw one.

They were uncommonly still, and that alone was enough to put Nemir on guard. A Cambion never passed up the opportunity for wanton slaughter. And they never traveled without a small contingent of Fledglings accompanying them either. The Judicator's gaze zipped around the cramped street, every corner and overhang but one more place for a Demon to hide in wait. The already tense atmosphere grew more oppressive with each passing moment. But their host, in his malevolent graciousness didn't keep them all waiting with bated breath for very long.

A lump formed in Nemir's throat the second she caught sight of the lanky figure standing on the roof before them. The Baalgar. It was just as hideous and just as spiteful as Nemir remembered. It's growling chuckles rasped against her ears, and the Demon's voice grated on her nerves with scarcely any prompting. How many nights had she lain awake considering the weight of her failure that day? Running through every scenario she could imagine, ones in which she'd pushed forward to aid Kungen in his final titanic struggle against the beast standing in front of them? Always wondering, always berating herself for that one thing she could have done different on that day?

There was no fortune to be found in the Baalgar's presence. Nothing good came of it, and Nemir wasn't so naïve to think killing it would restore her honor. It would never undo her failure. All that killing the Baalgar could ever do, was grant them but an ounce of peace. All that it would do was remove one more Demon from the picture. A single blow struck against the Void was still something.

Nemir consigned herself to ignoring the Baalgar as it spoke. Never had there been a Demon with anything worthwhile to say. Uttering blasphemies, gibbering fools that they were. The Baalgar was no different as it berated them, as it insulted the Gods and invoked curses innumerable upon them. The only way that the Demon's words could have been any more heretical was if it had spoken in its native tongue rather than theirs. It was an offense of the highest magnitude. A freak of nature reducing the value of all present to nothing better than the mud they stood on.

The Baalgar was about as predictable in its words as anyone too deep in their ale forsaking the Gods. There was little point in expecting anything better from it.

The Demon's words rightfully angered Nemir's companions, even if she saw no inherent value in them. But she had no intention of joining them in their ire. Instead, the Judicator kneeled to the ground. Propped on one knee, she reached down to scrape a fingerful of blood-soaked mud from the ground. She smeared it across the forehead of her helmet, muttering quietly the old prayers drawn from the stones in the glory of Terran.

'Blood for the earth. May it paint the stones. May it soak the dirt beneath my feet. May you drink endlessly, this gift and more that I offer to you, Mighty Terran. So the stones speak.'

Nemir took the time to smear some mud onto Ghan's forehead as well, though he struggled slightly against the gesture. The Hyena didn't understand the concept of prayer, but his Mistress did. Nemir only sought to ensure that Ghan was protected. He couldn't very well receive the Stone God's blessing without first being marked by him.

"Stop struggling, you love rolling around in mud." She chided gently. By the time she'd finished and stood once more, the Baalgar had grown weary of taunting them and his Cambions stepped forward to do his bidding.

Their bodies warped unnaturally under the strain of their newfound power, not that Nemir considered them natural before that. As if a Cambion wasn't bad enough, the Baalgar had to make sure that the odds were skewed ever against them all. The armored titans bore their leader's mark well. Muscle and tendon were rent apart as if there weren't there at all, and the Demon's once mace like forearms gained a set of newly sharpened blades to compliment them. The force of a blow from a Cambion was often enough to cave a man's chest in. Applying it behind a blade guaranteed that someone would lose a limb at the bare minimum.

'Great, because I need this shit today too.' Nemir's thoughts turned dour. She'd been prepared to deal with a Cambion. But three newly mutated ones just itching to fight nudged slightly into unreasonable territory.

The Judicator hefted Raumspalter easily as the Demons leaped towards the ground in unison. Their landing was heavy, tearing stones from the street and throwing dirt into the air. Even with two non combatants the small assembly outnumbered the Demon's fairly. But Nemir knew that meant nothing. A Cambion was strong enough to tear a Draft Horse in half with its bare hands, and armored enough to turn all but the heaviest of blades. A Ferrum Cambion was all of that and had the ability to stab anything caught in its path of its choosing. Which was often.

They wasted no time in assaulting the small group. Two launched themselves into the thick of things, with one aiming itself towards the pair of unarmed nobles. Nemir would have moved to assist, but one seemed to have taken an interest in her.

She wouldn't win a shoving match with the thing. Fighting a Cambion was like fighting an armored Ox that possessed the capacity to hold grudges. And while Nemir loved throwing her weight around, confident in the fact that it exceeded most opponents, she knew that dealing with an empowered Cambion would be a little harder. Raumspalter could undoubtedly cleave through its armor with a few well-placed blows, but that required getting in too close for comfort and engaging the Cambion long enough to complete the deed. No, Nemir knew that she'd have to get creative for this one.

Nemir raised Raumspalter slightly and tossed it towards the hapless Nobles, her eyes falling on a slaughtered Pig hanging from a metal hook supported by a sturdy chain. "Take it." She shouted, content to let them handle the inscribed blade themselves. Raumspalter would drink again, even if they never used it.

Strong hands grasped at one of the empty meat hooks, and yanked it forcefully, dragging it and the chain attached to it from the wooden rafters of the stall they were bolted to. The Judicator gave the hook several experimental swings and hummed in quiet approval of its weight. It would work well enough.

The Cambion grinned as best it could with its mishappen mouth, eyeing the woman in silence for a moment. If it knew at all what she planned to use the hook for, it either didn't fear it or was confident that it could kill her before she ever got to use it. They were both soon to find out.

"You'd better be worth the effort." She muttered as the Cambion launched itself forward. It dropped to all fours and barreled down the cramped street in a knuckle dragging run. Crates stacked close to building walls were smashed to splinters in the wake of the Demon's bull like charge and Nemir braced herself as the Cambion drew ever closer.

There wasn't much space to move. Not with two Cambions and a gaggle of warriors clashing in the street. But Nemir had enough space to whirl the chain overhead. Her eyes narrowed as the Cambion drew closer. She inhaled deeply, and counted the seconds, watching the Demon's approach in silence as it thundered ever closer. Mid stride, she struck. Casting the chain like a metal fishing line, the hook found its mark. It wound several times around a trunk like arm before a barbed end found purchase in the chitinous armor covering it. The Cambion grunted in pain and its steps faltered for the briefest of moments. Nemir was quick to reel in any slack and yanked the chain forcefully, pulling the Cambion's arm from under it and forcing it to topple to the ground. The Cambion skid along the cobblestone street, powered by its own momentum and Nemir charged forward to meet it.

The Demon recovered quickly, pushing up from the ground to get back on its feet. But the Judicator was already upon it. The rest of the chain found its way around the Demon's neck and a pair of plated boots dug heavily into the Cambion's back as Nemir climbed astride its back. She pulled with all the strength that she could muster, attempting to choke the life out of the Demon. But the Cambion was having none of that.

Just like a Bull, it scrambled to all fours and surged forward with Nemir hanging on for dear life. The Cambion slammed into walls and abandoned carts as it attempted to throw the woman off, and Nemir hissed in pain as she was battered relentlessly. She struggled to maintain her hold on the Demon and righted herself on its back. She resumed pulling the chain taught and the Cambion let out a wheezing growl in defiance. It galloped a ways down the street before twisting, nearly bucking Nemir off once more. But staying on top of the Demon soon became the least of her problems.

The Cambion reared up on both of its legs and broke into a dead sprint with Nemir still hanging off of it. The Demon ducked its head and without breaking its stride it threw its entire body through the wall of the nearest building. Somehow against all odds Nemir held on, but it wasn't easy. Bricks and mortar rained down on her head freely and she was silently grateful for the helmet she wore. Dust and debris obscured her vision and over the sound of blood thudding in her ears and the wall crumbling behind them Nemir could just make out the sound of Ghan's furious yowling.

Nemir grunted in exertion, relenting her hold on the Cambion for a moment to slam a metal fist into the side of its head. The Demon roared in obvious fury and pain, its clawed hand struggling to reach around its considerable bulk and grab hold of the woman clinging to its back. It slammed into walls and knocked over tables and bookshelves in its efforts to pry her loose, but Nemir would not relent. She yanked the chain again, pulling it taut against the Cambion's neck and forcing a choked growl from its mouth. Shaking its entire body furiously as it tried and failed to knock the Judicator off, the Cambion dropped to all fours once more and charged forward.

"Oh Gods no, not the other wall!" Nemir shouted before the Demon hurled itself through the other wall, leaving a matching hole in the other side of the house. Nemir felt her grip on the chain slacken, and her feet dangled dangerously close to the ground. Hopping down, the woman dug in her heels and yanked back, nearly causing the Cambion to fall backwards. She grit her teeth from the exertion, though she had enough presence of mind to see the irony of her current situation. She'd wanted to avoid a shoving match with the Demon, and so it had embroiled her in a pulling match instead.

The Demon seemed to grow more furious with each passing second. The Baalgar had gifted it some new blades, and it hadn't even gotten a chance to use them yet! The crushing grip on the Demon's windpipe wasn't doing it any favors either, but the beast wasn't content to lay down and let the Judicator choke the life out of it. It reached backwards and grasped the chain in one massive hand. It gave forcible yank, and the Demon's strength won out over Nemir's. The Judicator let out a panicked shout as it pulled her forward and she struck the Cambion's armored back. It wasn't unlike slamming into a wall and the impact left the woman slightly dazed.

The Cambion refused to allow her another chance to grab hold of it. With its hand still on the chain it yanked again, this time upwards. The pull sent Nemir hurtling into the air over the Demon's head before it swung down, sending the woman crashing into the ground with a heavy metallic thud. The air in Nemir's lungs vacated with an audible gasp. Pain lit every nerve ending, and the woman could only lay there in a stupor. The Cambion roared in triumph and raised a trunklike arm overhead as it prepared to bring it down on Nemir's skull like a hammer.

But before that last and fatal blow could be struck, the sound of rasping laughter caught the woman's attention. The Cambion's roar took on an agonized tone and Nemir rolled from beneath the Demon and out of its reach. She spied Ghan, the Hyena's teeth sunk firmly into the Cambion's ankle. The Judicator could never figure out just what animal a Hyena was, but experience had taught her that Ghan had a bite harder than any Hound or Wolf. The Cambion's chitinous armor cracked beneath the pressure of the Hyena's hold on its ankle, blood flowing freely from the newly opened wounds.

Ghan always struck from the rear, and so the Cambion could not reach back to haul the beast off of it. But that didn't stop it from trying to kick Ghan loose. The Hyena hung on for dear life, growling furiously as he was tossed around like a sack of potatoes. Nemir shook the fuzziness from her vision and grabbed hold of the chain that the Cambion dropped. She tightened her grip, winding around one arm before grasping with both hands and pulling again. The Cambion's roars grew loud enough to rattle the windowpanes. It snorted loudly, its broad chest heaving from exertion, and Nemir could see embers dancing from between its jagged teeth as its rage threatened to boil over.

Once more the Cambion dropped to all fours, and when it charged it finally knocked forward Ghan loose, the Hyena unable to hang on while it dragged him along the ground. Nemir was not so lucky. Her entire body was violently jerked forward, and she fell face first onto the muddy ground. The hapless Judicator was dragged several feet behind the Cambion as it charged blindly through the streets, and Ghan galloped behind her as he barked madly. The fight was shaping up to be a rather undignified affair. A Demon hauling a lone woman through the mud while a Hyena chased after them both didn't really create a mental image worthy of a legend.

'At least no one is around to see this shit.' Nemir thought silently as she hung on for dear life.

 

[Juju]

Aurelia & SergioAt the king’s mention of her dress Aurelia looked down at the shredded remains of the sooty fabric, her eyes still glassy from shock. Was it a compliment or a joke? Either way, how could he keep calm when one of those things was looming over him?

“You...” Aurelia sputtered, choking on her words as the king shoved away the demon’s blade.

Serigo rolled his eyes at the king telling him to get Aurelia to safety. Of course that would be ideal, he himself would also prefer to be somewhere safe than in this mess, however like their previous attempt to get in a safe room, it would bear no fruit. What place was safe? Most of the demons may be dead, but there also ran the risks of collapsing buildings, fires, or people trying to take advantage of the situation to be up to no good, or even just to get rid of some high up nobles. All and all, it was going to be hard to find someplace “safe” to hide as the king so well put it. He pulled her a little back from the king, at least he could get her at a more safe distance from the fighting so she didn’t get hit by accident.

“Sergio. He can’t see…” She said, though without words they both knew what came next.

"I can see that!" He snapped lightly as he bit his lip anxiously, even an idiot could tell that that wouldn't mean good news for the king.

The king may be a gifted fighter, but there was no way he could survive his duel without his vision and the demon, knowing that it had gained the upper hand, was relentless in its assault. Aurelia thought for sure that the swipe aimed at Arvin would cleave him in two, but the king somehow managed to deflect the cut just in time.

Aurelia gripped onto Sergio’s arm, her eyes filled with the flickering glow of the burning streets. “What do we do?”

Sergio winced lightly at the grip, opening his mouth to reply when a clang startled him, causing him to turn and see the source.

As if the gods had answered, a loud metallic clang and skid sounded upon the cobblestone beside Aurelia. A greatsword? She had no idea how someone could possibly throw such an ungainly thing, but what she did know was that she could never swing it.

In the light of the flames she could only make out a few of the engraved words, but it was enough for her to recognize it. Was that Raumspalter? Then that meant that the armored knight was… Nemir?

Aurelia shook her head. Now wasn’t the time. No matter how finely crafted, there was nothing this legendary blade could do for someone who couldn’t wield it. There had to be another way.

Aurelia took in her surroundings, looking for anything that could help. Towards her left there stood the crumbling remains of some shop, most likely a bakery, but there were bloodied bodies of citizens and a guard or two. They had smaller weapons, though she would have to get closer to the cambium and she doubted she could really do much other than distract the beast.

Distractions could work.

Her eyes shifted to a well, just beside the bakery. Guards and citizens had drawn buckets in an effort to fight the spreading fires, but most had either been cut down or abandoned the efforts in favour of their lives. Thankfully, there seemed to be a few buckets left. She eyed the nearest one.

“Sergio, we need to keep the creature off him for a bit. Yes, it’s stupid, but the King can’t fight like that.” Her expression hardened, “If I can get to the well, I can help the king’s vision.”

Frankly, Aurelia didn't know what had gotten into her. This plan was just as brash as the king's idea to take on a cambium by himself. Maybe that was why she felt moronic enough to believe she could do it. Besides, a Luxenri never lets their debts slide.

Sergio blinked. Then blinked again. Did he just hear her right? Not only was this the opposite of what the king wanted him to do, but this meant that he would have to fight this thing briefly. God motherfu- Sergio gripped the blade in his hand lightly, "Since you said 'if you can get to the well' I'm going to have to fight and distract this thing." He let out a long sigh, "Well at least if I die I won't die by someone stabbing me in the back like I thought I would. Let's do this."

Aurelia rushed towards the well, hopping over sprawling corpses and weaving her way around bits of burning debris. Every second counted, but in her haste tripped over her dress -- yet again.

Aurelia fell upon the cobblestones with a curse, ripples of stinging pain rushing up her arm. It itched as she forced herself up, but she clenched her teeth together and took hold of the bucket, turning it towards her. It had been on its side, propped up against an abandoned wagon wheel, but when Aurelia looked inside she could see an ebbing dark still trapped inside the oaken frame.

Oh, thank Nera.​

Wasting no more time, Aurelia rushed back towards the king, carefully cradling the bucket of water so as not to lose any.

Meanwhile, while Aurelia was trying to successfully get water, Sergio began to take steps toward the beast. What was the best way to approach this? He'd have to be smart about this if he wanted to not only succeed but live to talk about it. The beast had currently been temporarily stunned by the king blocking its blow which meant he had the perfect opportunity to distract it.

Quietly, he rushed towards the beast and stabbed it right in the back of its knee, a place free of armor to allow the beast to move. The beast howled in pain as its leg went limp, almost falling from the sudden strike. A dirty move, but hey so was it throwing dirt in the king's eyes. It didn't take it long to turn to him, angrily swinging its blade down. Sergio let out a swear as he easily jumped back, managing to dodge the blow but also fall on his butt. He quickly scrambled up and let out another yelp as he thing swung at him again. He dodged it again, though the blade did lightly nick his arm as he did so, quickly staining his suit red as blood began to pour out. He cursed loudly, Aurelia really needed to hurry up with what she was doing.

Aurelia stopped a few strides away from the king and the cambium. This was insane. What was she doing? "Arvin! Over here! Look!” she shouted, hoping to get him to turn his head. A moment later she splashed the contents of the bucket onto his face.

Siren77
Mentioned: Ramjammer

 

[ItsKenAgain]

Aurin continued to dodge the blows from the Cambion, but he was quickly becoming overwhelmed. Turning back and forth and rolling around in the filth of the street while rubble clouded his vision, he began to lose his breath knowing he had to get back to his feet or he’d get hit for sure. A blow in this position would either kill him or sever any of his limbs in a single strike. That force and size, with a blade edge that sharp? It could probably cut a war horse in half with little more effort than it took a Knight to swing their own blade.

The Cambion allotted him little time to do much more than roll and hope for the best, until it realized that its tactic for attacking wasn’t gaining it much ground in the fight either. Aurin’s smaller size and speed would at least allow him to slip its attacks for this long. The Cambion let out a furious roar, raising both fists high into the air above its head, crossing its blades in a show of power and wrath.

The Knight looked upward through the debris that rained around him, surprised, but knowing this was his chance. He gritted his teeth in determination and somersaulted backwards, readying his spear in front of him as he sprung to his feet. The creature’s massive arms, blades bared, came rushing down on him with power that you could feel through the winds as they parted the air. No way he could afford to block with his spear. A more powerful fighter might have a chance with a sword such as Arvin, Nemir, or Lyrren, but Aurin knew he couldn’t rely on brute force or skillful strength to parry this attack. He’d have to be more craftful and think quickly with his instincts if he wanted to get out of this head on position and continue his dance around the behemoth.

The creature brought both arms down together but just as Aurin took a step back the Cambion parted its blades, swinging them outward in a sweeping motion. One after the other, the beast continued this advance, throwing its blades towards the Knight. If the Knight was fighting with speed, it seemed the Cambion too would attempt to outmatch him. He kept backing, knowing in the street he would soon run out of space before tripping over rubble, or bodies, or being backed into a wall, or flaming merchant stand. About this time he caught sight of the Cambion Nemir was facing. It barrelled down the street erratically, crashing into buildings and carts, and atop its back was the Paladin, riding the beast with a chain around its throat like a bull on a tirade before vanishing out of his sight. Two thoughts flashed through the Knight’s mind at this brief glimpse of chaos. Firstly, “By the Gods, what is she thinking?”, and secondly, “Actually. Something that crazy might just work.”

Aurin readied his stance, going out on a limb for this one, quite literally. With the next swing of the beast’s bladed forearm, the knight used his spear shaft, not to block the blow, but to catch the hooked part near the elbow of the chitinous deformation that was formed at the end of the blade. Like my spear, it’s time for me to ride the winds. Carry me to victory, Master Argus. He prayed as the beast began to drag him and he held fast onto his weapon.

The force swept Aurin off his feet easily, lifting him with little effort on the Cambion’s part. The brute didn’t expect this turn of events, perhaps thinking it had finally landed a blow on the Knight. The man sailed through the air as his spear came loose, with more speed than he expected, and he quickly met his landing spot on the cobblestone, several meters away. This would hurt if he wasn’t coursing with adrenaline, but his mind was in a different place now, where his injuries didn’t matter. A graceful landing was out of the question, so Aurin let himself roll with the force, catching scrapes and bruises along the way. Controlling the tumble as well as he could, he was able to end upright after slowing. The Knight, covered in filth and blood let out a war cry between heavy breaths before he charged the Cambion with his spearhead.

The beast’s feet thundered as it turned toward Aurin, although it stumbled on its left leg a bit as the dagger was still sunken deep into its backside. As the Knight closed the distance, the Cambion swung its blade at him again but in an instance he slid under its strike. Aurin leapt upright ready to impale its core, but the creature lifted its leg, attempting to stomp him like a rat. The Knight pulled his spear close to his body and spun around the creature’s side before opting to strike it in the lower back where he knew already its armor was weak. Its foot connected with the ground just as Aurin’s feet left it once again. He sunk his spear into the Cambion, and swung on it as he dislodged it, to once again gain distance. Now he had almost completely circled the Cambion, and found himself next to his dagger. Time to find a new place for that. He slid the blade out from the beast’s flank and planted it into the back of its knee, further incapacitating it. Surely he was wearing it down. All of those stab wounds weren’t a one shot kill for something this large, but with enough of them the blood loss alone would make the Cambion much easier to finish off.

In fact, a good enough slash across its midsection would bring it down to Aurin’s level, where he could end it with a blow to the head. However, the last place he wanted to be was right there in front of it, having to avoid getting stomped, or slashed, or thrown, or beaten. Trying to lead it on might just make it lose interest and start attacking others. But if Aurin got himself caught and crushed that would be the next thing on the agenda anyway. Rushing in had worked for Aurin twice now, but he doubted the effectiveness of that plan working a third time. Maybe it would attempt its own charge? Blood dripped from its wounds in dark streams, it had to be tiring at this point, and maybe it would resort to dangerous methods of survival. Aurin backed away and found his stance, buying himself some time to rest and see what the Cambion would make of its next move.

 

[Siren77]

Arvin was completely left in the dark.... no pun intended. With the Cambion stunned from his sudden block, the King stood patiently as he awaited the next strike to come at him, praying all the while that the Gods would continue to guide his blade. He also hope that Aurelia and Sergio had managed to place themselves somewhere safe.

As he stood patiently, gripping his blade he awaited the Demons return to battle against him. But it was never to occur. Arvin sat still for a few moments, with confusion and worry growing in the pit of his stomach. It wasn’t until he heard the scuffle before him that he realized someone else had taken it upon themselves to take on the blades beast and free the temporarily blinded King of the burden. Arvin’s Warrior instincts told him to move in and aid the best he could, but the more logical side of him told him to wait. This notion was reinforced by a strong feeling that standing by was the better place to be for the time.

One would consider this blind faith, but given his status as a prophet for not one but FOUR different deities, he’s learned to trust these strange promptings. Besides, blind faith was all he had in this moment given his sight was literally gone from him.

As the scuffle raged on before him, Arvin flinched and took in deep inhales at the sound of every noise. The Champions Blade was still grasped between his own two hands, with the knuckles white under the tension and his palms obviously sweaty.

It wouldn’t be until he heard the voice of Aurelia off to his left that he’d understand his need to wait in that moment. She called for him to look her way, to which he suppressed the urge to remark, “I can’t, I think somethings in my eyes.” Instead he kept his trap shut and turned without an ounce of hesitance, only to be met with a wash of cold water across his face. Sweet release! As the liquid washed over his face, Arvin immediately dropped his weapon and began wiping at his eyes as the water continued to drip down his shaggy black hair, and subsequently down his bare torso which temporarily soothed the burns present. Eventually he was able to force his eyes open and rinse out the last of the dirt from his eyelids.

Once more his vision had returned to him, and his first sight was that of Aurelia standing patiently before him. Grinning, Arvin felt like he could just kiss her for saving him from his blinded fate, but knew better than to do such a thing. Instead his bowed his head.

[font=Papyrus[COLOR=rgb(139, 0, 0)]]”Thank you so much Miss Luxenri. From this moment I am indebted to you.”[/COLOR][/font] The sudden sound of tearing fabric and flesh followed by a grunt from Sergio prompted Arvin to snap his head in that direction and recognize that the Noble was actually fighting. Recognizing the imminent danger the man was in, Arvin reach down and scooped up his sword. ”But more on that later, excuse me.”

Just as Arvin began moving forward, he saw that The Cambion was preparing to capitalize on Sergio’s pain with a broad lateral strike from its right arm. ”Shit!” The King would growl rather audibly (It should be noted that he does his best to refrain from vulgarity, but like most people he does skip) before picking up his pace and charging in headlong toward the two of them. All the while, a cascade of flames swarmed around the Blade of his sword which would heat the metal it was composed of to a burning white glow. As the red flames continued to spiral about, Arvin finally brought it forth to swing downward to deflect the Cambions attack and relieve Sergio once more.

His intention was to only to smash the Demons blade into the earth below, but having underestimated the degree of temperature his blade had been tempered with, the Champions Blade would instead cleanly cut as a hot knife through butter through the massive chitinous edge that the Cambion harbored. As the large piece of disconnected blade went flying in a random direction, the large Demon roared in pain as the fleshy innards of the blade was now exposed and burning. In its own blinding rage, it made the foolish mistake of swinging its other blade toward the King. Given the blade had had enough time to cool, it wasn’t near as hot as it was when the flames were still present. However, it still managed to cut almost halfway into the second claw, which the Cambion met with a similar response as before.

Arvin made no attempt to retrieve his blade, and instead opted to use this advantage of leverage against the behemoth before him. Hurtling his body in an aerial, the King twisted his body harshly as to break what remained of the blade. With his muscles twisting and stretching, the King succeeded in snapping the blade off as his feet touched the ground once more.

The pain was obviously too much for the beast, causing to it collapse to its knees and let off a guttural moan as the singed bits of its blades lied discarded on the ground before it. Meanwhile, Arvin sneered at the pitiful sight as the beast festered in its pain.

”Now, now you understand don’t you? The suffering many have endured because of your kinds actions, though rest assured you will not be the last. Now you take your place, as just the beginning of the Demons I will cut down as the Apocalypse draws ever near. Then, your kinds annihilation will be at hand.”

Without another word, The King then raised his blade up high and beheaded the large beast, letting its body fully crash to the ground and its head roll forward onto the cobblestone below.

Uttering some deep breaths of his own, Arvin stretched for a moment before turning toward the nobles still standing by.

”Are you both alright?”
seasonedcat Juju

 

[Siren77]

A wild and raging fire grazed up into oblivion, with its sparks and ash ascending as far as one could perceive the sky. Far below its flickering eclipse of the earth, Örn in all its former glory continued to burn and turn to dust. Humanities greatest achievement was falling apart in mere moments, and in the moonless night it was out on display for all the world to see as Nera and Terran’s ancient creation in the heavens turned its back on humanity. The smell of charred wood, flesh, and the once bountiful plant life was couple with the sound of agonized screams and the sound of hand carved stone bursting asunder from the intense heat. Even the sturdiest of monuments and architectural wonders would succumb to Kasai’s wrath as the once great kingdom continued to burn.

And yet, not all life was found to be lost just yet. Though many were still living to feel their final moments, one mortal soul still clung to a stable lifeline as they lie prostrate upon the ground. Still alive yet still in such a fatal condition. Blood and dirt matted against the tattered clothing still hanging onto the almost broken looking frame of this depraved soul. Torn to near shreds, bruised on nearly inch of flesh, it was apparent that they had suffered much. And yet, much more suffering was yet to come. For where there is life, there is a chance for more pain.

Arvin, forsaken by his gods to still endure life, stirred in his own agony. Why they willed his pathetic existence to persist he did not know. Perhaps they wished for him to bare witness to the failure he had wrought upon this land. Örn was burning, and he could do nothing but watch as Kasai reaped penance upon her own children. Attempting to reach out to them in word of prayer, Arvin would only feel his vocal cords strain against the smoke and heat to utter no more than a pathetic cry. Again and again he tried to call to them, only to fail all the same. Only his thoughts could bring even the slightest connection to the elementals that once savored mankind.

‘Goddess Kasai, where hast thou gone? I was once blessed with the very powers of thy flames, yet now I am on the brink of being consumed by them just as my brothers and sisters have been. Why hast thou forsaken us? What could I have done to stop this?’

Weeping and gnashing his teeth, Arvin uttered some of the same cries as before as he forced himself to be drug forward and posted upon his arms. Everything burned. Everything hurt. And Arvin had just enough life to feel and endure every ounce of it. Where he though he could go and what chance he had of survival, even Arvin didn’t know. Nor did he care. He moved only to feel the satisfaction of some sort of progress. A falsehood and an insanity driven attempt to bring peace to his broken spirit. Arvin would continue to drag himself forward, until the heat finally sapped every ounce of strength from his withered muscles. Halfway through on final pull, his arms finally gave out and returned him back to the ground. Skin began to split and fall away from his frame as he finally was to be consumed, and for moment he thought he might finally pass on and be relieved of this torment.

“Hehehehehehe...”

But he was wrong.

“Still clinging to life I see? Good, I get to stare into the soul of a forgotten prophet as he watches this world burn.”

A lumbering figure slowly tread from within the flames toward Arvin’s partially consumed body. The Baalgar, smiling with its lipless maw, reached forward with its slender clawed hand to grasp the black hair upon the fallen King’s head. Yet as it pulled, the hair came with it effortlessly and the suffering mortal did not move.

“Hm, so fragile. It’s a wonder why Kasai thought it wise to expose you creatures to her own element. Especially considering it destroys you all so easily. Not that one such as my self can complain, her foolishness only allowed for our master to pervert her ways and imbue my brethren with Hells Flame. It almost makes me wonder if she wanted you all to die like this. Oh what a twist that would be! To have your divine creator be plotting your downfall from the start!”

The clawed hand grasped the King’s throat and hoisted him on high to get a better view of his burning lineage.

“But to our the blame on a goddess would be sacrilege to you heathens! So I’ll spare you from such thoughts.”

A low rumble of laughter resonated in the Archaic Demons chest.

“You already know who the blame truly resides with don’t you? Yes, you understand. This is all your fault. Every ounce of it. Well, then again some blame might be placed upon those fools who chose to so recklessly follow you, but it just traces back to you conning them into their own damnation. Regardless, everyone loses. The Void can finally reclaim this unholy land, and the universe can once more return to the grasp of its shadows.”

Arvin said nothing, but only looked on through bleary eyes into the depths of flame as he slipped into deaths embrace.

“See you in Hell.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Snapping awake in a cold sweat, Arvin lurched from his bed with a disgruntled gasp. A long strain of heavy breaths soon followed as he stared blankly at the bedroom wall in front of him. Briefly the nightmare that had plagued his sleep was recollected in his mind, before finally his wild eyes settled down and came into focus. Taking a few deep breaths to calm himself down, Arvin cleated his mind appease his anxiety stricken mind. Once his heart rate had slowed and his body relaxed, the King finally rose from his bed and stumbled about his dim room.

He reached out with his hand toward the wall to feel for the curtains, and eventually felt the fabric on his skin. The heavy curtains were parted and sunlight spilled into his room. The split glass window was then opened allowing for some fresh air to be let in. Down below, he could hear the sounds of his kingdom coming to life as his people went about there business. All still alive, and all still happy. This brought relief to Arvin, knowing now that this nightmare of his had not come true.

“Seven fucking times...” he grumbled before stepping away from the window and walking towards his wardrobe. “In the exact same way.... Hm, perhaps I should’ve analyzed this sooner. Oh well.”

Arvin opened the doors on the dresser and quickly pulled out a lighter and more comfortable outfit. Something he normally wore when he trained or exercised. If there was one thing that could get the sometimes stubborn gears in his mind turning, it was mastering his craft of swordsmanship. The castle was built with a rather peculiar plaza amongst the many others within its boundaries, filled with all sorts of training devices, practice dummies, and sturdy objects to wail on. While it didn’t give the same exhilaration of a duel or competition, it was still pleasing to him all the same.

Once the King was dressed, he parted from his room and headed straight to that plaza, in hopes that he might study his own mind and find the reason behind this reoccurring nightmare. Granted, the obvious answer was of the assault on Örn that had occurred two months previously. And after all this time only now was Arvin dreaming of it over and over and over again. Normally he’d think to pray about such troubling matters, but the young King had found himself at a disconnect with the Holy Quadrinity ever since he was to see his people be slaughtered and their houses burned. The damage was thankfully not too great, but the blood shed was inexcusable.

Why had they not warned him? Why was his kingdom so easily breached? Questions like these had been driving him mad for weeks now, with no answers in sight. The anxiety and fear was surely going to destroy him if he didn’t find peace soon. But for now, practice would do.

Arvin soon arrived in the smaller courtyard and quickly grabbed on of the practice swords from one of the many racks lining the far wall. He tested its balance and the condition of the blade, looking for any imperfections that might offset the blade. All was well as thankfully Hector Lafayette, the Kingdoms most talented blacksmith, was always diligent in keeping the castles arms in check. Chuckling, the King flicked the blade once or twice before approaching one of the stationary dummies with a bucket for a head and a sack full of hay as a torso.

Normally he wouldn’t be up this early, but given the current adversity he faced sleep was more of a burden than anything else.
—.—.—.—.—.—.—.—.—.—.—.—.—.—.—.
(We’ll have some buffer posts to let everyone get back into the flow of things before we move on!)

 

[Juju]

Droplets of water rolled off of Aurelia as she stepped out of her morning bath. She watched the steam rise off of her, swirling in delicate swirls that faded into eternity before her eyes. As a kid she thought it was some sort of magic, locked away beneath the skin. Of course, that was wishful thinking from a book she had read. Yet even as a sensible adult she still could not help but marvel at the dance of water.

She dried herself and glanced at her reflection in the mirror opposite to her. The beauty of her form was exceptional, a blessing and a weapon, yet all her eyes could see were the scars upon her forearm. The weeks had turned the demon's claw marks into thin pinkish strips, raised slightly from the surrounding skin. It had taken almost a month for the infection to die down and constant care to reduce the scarring. Still, it was not enough. It was hideous, an annoying flaw she wished she could tear off. The doctor -- someone other than Crow, who she refused to let touch her -- had ensured her that he had done everything he could do for it. She sent him away immediately and found another, but still, the treatments could not erase what had been done. No was not an answer she could stomach. Even now, she could feel raw anger boiling up her throat.

"M'lady, your dress is ready."

"My lady." Aurelia corrected tartly, causing the girl to wince. "If you cannot speak correctly then do not speak at all."

The girl bowed, retreating away to bring out the dress with the help of another. Aurelia snapped her fingers, signalling the servants to move, and stared blankly at the space above her mirror as the dress was pulled over her. It was a lavish design of deep wine interlaced with gold thread and a cream underskirt, custom made for her. Despite the approach of summer, the sleeves were long. Since the battle, she had taken it upon herself to keep her arms covered.

Perhaps learning from her idiotic mistake, the servant was silent as she tended to the front of Aurelia's dress. Two others busied themselves by intertwining the delicate ribbons across her back while a third tied up the bindings of the sleeves. Aurelia watched as the silks came together, closing over the ugly scars inch by inch until there was nothing but perfectly trimmed cloth. Like this, she could pretend the flaw was gone, yet it always lingered in the back of her mind, as too did the guttural growl of the fledgling that had marked her. Sometimes, if she thought about it, she could still feel the burning itch of her arm.

She pressed her nails into her sleeve and gazed at her reflection cooly, finally able to look at herself now that the scars were covered. The servants brought over her selection of jewellery for that day and placed the jewelled gold upon her fingers, neck, and head. Once they were done Aurelia dismissed them from her sight. In the silence of her room, she let out a sigh and looked to her writing desk, the burnt-out candlesticks stubby from last night's writing. The two months that followed the attack had been a political nightmare, but so far she could proudly say she had managed it well. There was always something to gain from chaos, as her father liked to say.

It was true that the political map had been rearranged, but their losses had been dampened by fresh opportunities; new alliances,debts and marriages in wake of the few noble casualties. Repairing the city and compensating for the loss of labour and goods would have been disastrous for the crown, but luckily Aurelia had called upon a few noble favours and her family's own coffers to soften the blow. Food had been given out to peasants during the first few weeks of recovery, which although was a waste of the winter supply, had kept the masses happy and with good opinions of Arvin.

Still, there was much left to do. Aurelia glanced at the stack of letters resting in the corner of her desk. The day would be a busy one, which was exactly why it was important to get to an early start. Gently, she picked up the letters, slipping one of the scrolls in her sleeve.

Aurelia threaded her fingers as she walked down the empty corridor, listening to the click of her shoes with mild disinterest. Pressed between her arms and her stomach was the stack of today's letters. The more delicate information had been sent out under the cover of night, while the mundane was saved for the day. Normal ravens did not fly beneath the moon, but her family prided themselves in the development of a unique breed that did. Physiologically, they were not much different from their kin, save their blood-red eyes. They were so integral to her family's success that the creatures could be found on their family sigil, as well as the brooch that was pinned on her left breast. The rubies of its eyes glinted with the first slivers of dawn's light as she walked past the courtyard.

To her surprise, she heard the clang of steel. Curiously she peered out the window to find the king practicing his swordplay. Odd, he usually was not up at this time. From her elevated viewpoint, Aurelia watched the king, the coolness of her gaze softening. It had been a difficult time for the pantheon, but her king had been at the centre of the storm. She wondered if he was taking it worse than he appeared. Still, he had only given the kingdom hope when they despaired or grew angry. He was trying his best, and even if it might not be enough, it made her want to believe in him too.

I cannot get attached, she sternly reminded herself. If things changed she would have to do what was best for her family. It used to be so easy to do that, yet now there was an uncomfortable twinge at the thought. Had something changed since the invasion? The memory of Arvin fighting off the cambion played in her mind so vividly she could still smell the ash. Perhaps, perhaps not, but she needed to remember her place. She needed to remember why she was here.

 

[seasonedcat]

~Sergio~​

Sergio glanced off his balcony down at the garden's below, a breeze tossing his hair lightly. In the months following the attack, a lot had happened. Major reconstruction to the city had to happen of course, along with many funerals and doctors' offices being filled to the brim with customers. Sergio had taken an impact from the whole thing as well. He had lost some of his spies in the attack, some had been too injured to spy for him for a while or even forever, while others became too afraid to help him.

His industry had gone to shit so quickly it honestly pissed him off, all this careful planning for something so unexpected to happen that he had not even considered it in planning. Letting out a 'tch' Sergio pushed himself off the railing and entered back into his room. He took his seat once again in front of the fireplace, picking up his tea and taking a sip from the sweet liquid. He had managed to reassure some of his spies to return to him, others he was still working on.

He also had begun replacing those he had lost, but of course, even with training, he could never truly replace those he had lost. Each spy was unique and even replenishing the amount he had was nothing, he still lost something. Not to mention he had lost one of his 4 best spies. She was crushed in debris, slowly burning to death under the ruble. It was such a shame she had to die in such away. It was also a shame he was the only one who showed up and planned her funeral.

Running a hand through his hair Sergio leaned back on his chain, letting his posture fall. Another thing that happened was those nobles who had locked Sergio and Aurelia out of the safe room, he made sure that didn't go unpunished. They all had their status' destroyed as information 'accidentally' got to the public's eyes and they accidentally started experiencing extremely bad luck that nearly killed them or made their life a living hell. Just a little gift from the wind.

Sergio stood back up as a gust of wind blew his curtains revealing a small bird. Smiling Sergio approached it and took the letter on its ankle. Unwrapping it, he hummed in delight as he read the words on its paper. Smiling to himself he took the paper and cast it into the flames, the bird tweeting at him as it rested on his hand. "Very good my precious, you will get extra treats for this one~" The bird then proceeded to take off, Sergio proceeding to once again sit before the fire and sip his tea.

 

[The True Plague]

Crow stared blankly ahead as he began his usual nightly routine. Ever since that insufferably vivid day, he's been pretty much confined to the castle, working nearly around the clock. First, he had to attend to the wounds and injuries of the Pantheon before anyone else, he was nearly contractually obliged to do so after all. Sure, a few may have refused his aid, due to stubborness, pride, or both, he neither knew nor cared. If they wished to have subpar doctors look at their wounds and offer treatment, so be it. He'd take such a snub with pride. If Aurelia wished to suffer from scars, then let her. He would simply focus on helping those who actually appreciated the effort and wouldn't potentially sabotage his work to spite him. Even if it did somewhat pain him to ignore those others who suffered, the first few days after the incursion were dedicated to the Pantheon. That was also the last time he had a full night's rest, if he were remembering correctly. After that, the true test of his patience and kindness was began.

Nobles and peasants alike needed his help, and he offered it freely to those he knew couldn't pay. In these trying times, who was he turn someone in need down? He lived comfortably, and knew despite the nobles' reluctance, they could scarcely deny that there was none better than Crow for medical needs. This went well for the most part. Most who came to him were those easily treated. After all, those were the easier cases... No, the hard part came in terms of house calls and the stragglers who waited to seek him out. The cases that he knew wouldn't make it. The ones that it'd be easier to just... Put them out of their misery. His hands were always stained with blood, few doctors could claim otherwise... But it still weighed heavily whenever he had to grant a patient mercy. To end a suffering he knew would never actually end if left alive. Some families accepted it, and would give their last goodbyes. That was painful to watch, be it the filthiest of peasants crying over each other, or the more somber and formal of the Nobles as they bid adieu to one who he had been brought to fix and save. Even more painful to endure were the families who argued with him over it. As if somehow, he wanted to kill these people. Thankfully, cases like that slowed as time went on. Be it them choosing to suffer in silence, or there just being fewer like that didn't matter.

As he mused over his past two months, Crow would of course keep himself going on his routine. What routine? Simple. Ever since moving to the castle to do his work, his operating hours went from any time, all the time, to sunrise to sundown. The guards would check anyone who came to be serviced, and any who needed to stay were put up in his own quarters where either he, or his new apprentice Raven, would keep an eye on them. Crow would periodically check in when Raven was in charge, to ensure none of his wards suddenly suffered from a case of not alive due to negligence, or worse, Raven accepting a bribe from a shady noble to have someone taken out through malpractice. They knew better than to approach Crow with bribes for priority or to get rid of opposition, but his apprentice was an unknown for most of the nobility. After all, she's been pretty much elbow deep in blood and guts as she learned from and helped her dear uncle Crow for the entirety of her apprenticeship.

Idly, he'd poke his head into his own room in the castle, finally in use for the first time in at least four months. Probably longer. A few beds were set up, each one filled with a fretful sleeper, save for the farthest one on the right side. That one held a man clearly in pain, his bandages being replaced by Raven with a shocking amount of gentleness for someone who pressed a hot iron to his wounds without warning, but oh well. Least she has bedside manner, he supposed. His footfalls were heavy and slow as he made his way to the back, mask firmly on his face and hem of his robe swishing against the cold ground. "So, I see that our friend here is feeling unwell. Are you doing what you need to do, Raven?" It was a fair question to ask, though all it earned him was a small glare.

"Of course Uncle. I remembered to clean the wound with water, then alcohol, and bandage it back up." As Raven spoke, she gave the man a small cup of water with some powder floating in it. After gulping it down, the man was out like a candle being blown upon. "If it continues to worsen, we'll need to either give him mercy or perhaps try sewing or cauterizing it to get it to stop opening."

"Why do you always jump to giving them mercy? We always try any method possible first that we think may help, unless we can agree it is beyond help." The doctor rolled his eyes behind his mask. Raven was a bit flighty at times, jumping to the extreme before considering the sane. Besides that, she wasn't too bad a listener, and seemed eager to help out. "The public is already weary of me for doing it when it's necessary, so why push that further? Not to mention the rumors as to why my apothecary wasn't destroyed. Apparently nobody believes I could hold my own against so many fledglings..." Which sure, that's reasonable. He held off a fair bit of fledglings, albeit with some difficulty. The new scars littering his body and the patches in his robes were enough to dissuade any from believing he got through it without injury. To do so alone does seem quite the feat, until one considers all the different stimulants and drugs he took to keep him going and ignore the searing agony every claw left. Thankfully he at least held out though. If he had fallen... Well, he shudders to think what the Kingdom's protectors would look like without his assistance.

"I just don't like seeing them suffer. If we can end their suffering, we should." Innocent enough an explanation... But Crow was going to err on the side of caution with how Raven explained it. That is some dark thinking. "Though don't worry, I'd always check with you before granting mercy. You won't let me do so after all." A small little huff followed.

"Of course not. You're not ready to take life, until you're able to save life." Crow smirked, shaking his head. Casually, he leaned over, and ruffled Raven's hair. "Have a good night. Gods willing, we won't lose another. If you need me, I'll probably be getting something to eat from the kitchens." As Raven spluttered over such actions, Crow made his escape. Quickly going through the halls before slowing down once he was safe from immediate revenge by Raven. She knew better than to leave the patients for too long. He was fine with payback, but not patient endangerment. One passage would lend him to hearing the clang of steel, which he surmised to be the King again. Crow knew of the late nights, given it left Arvin looking a bit unwell to the trained eye. However, Crow figured it not something he should push the King about. After all, Crow can hardly lecture about sleeping habits since the most sleep he can get is a catnap between patients if he's lucky. Besides, if it were truly an issue, the King knew his business was always open and if need be, Crow will push others to the side to ensure the King is well. It is his number one priority. Nevertheless, if he needed him right this instant... Well, Raven knew where he'd be. Snagging some food, and if Gods be willing, alcohol, for himself since he needed to eat at some point where he'd not worry about patients. Right now, was Crow time. Crow time was for food and drinking.

 

[AiDEE-c0]

Tessa Rimbaud
Location: The Castle.
Time: Early Morning.
Interactions: Siren77​

The soft vapours of a freshly brewed cup of tea gently brushed by Tessa's face. Through a partially curtained window, early beams of sunlight illuminated her desk as she skimmed through paper after paper, briefly examining the contents of every one, before stacking them atop each other in two separate columns. The emotion in her face remained neutral, very slightly tired, throughout the entire process. Some could consider it tedious, spending hours shuffling through paperwork, but the advisor had the patience for all of it, unminding. Besides, every letter and request was crucial after such a carriage wreck of a royal celebration. While most repairs were done or well underway, some orders still lingered, as well as specifications and other such nuisances. The handiwork of the stonemasons bolstered the capital day by day, the Bantercladt sect especially at play, given their blessings and dedication. By now, the bulk of the documents was formed by inquiries into payment, overdue reimbursements for "royal failure," audiences with the king, tax rates, the usual guild and noble business. Well, with the mountains of these things that were hoarded every day, someone had to take care of quality control. Like, here for example, among a small parcel of papers sent by a minor aristocrat, there leered the confession of whorehouse love. How he managed to slip up in such a way was a mystery, and it'd turn into an insolent shame if the king had to lay his eyes upon it. Had someone else been sorting the legal matters, mistakes like this could prove severely more dangerous. Tessa, however, gave only an eyeroll, as she tossed the song of affection onto the dispose pile.

Sipping from her cup of marigold, she directed a small gaze towards the window. The castle had been thrashed as well, although quickly fixed, courtesy of the Luxenri. Still, just looking outside brought back memories of the event. The smell of burnt flesh, the visages, the stomach churned simply at the insinuation. The golden tea was specifically for that, a natural therapy the advisor discovered when making first rounds during the war. It wasn't perfect, nor even impressive, but it calmed her, together with her body. Its earthiness felt nostalgic in a way, and, for the lack of a better word, it helped to ground her back into reality. Even amidst all the work and worry, the royal courtier didn't let herself be bereft of nice thoughts and ponderings. The chirping of the birds especially, brought a smile to her face. Surely, they were songs of hope.
"For a better future."
Tessa mused to herself as she sorted the last script of the current batch, humouring herself with a clap, legs crossed. A better future was what everyone deserved, be it a troubled king or a troublesome doctor. Indeed, it was absolutely everyone, as a part of the achievement was the betterment of self. This translated into the polishing of skill, a more fluent flow of affairs, gears turning flawlessly. Not everyone could afford that, of course, yet the thought was inspiring. If anything, it just meant they had to try harder, granting a needed sense of motivation.

Looking into an orange-tinted reflection of herself, nested upon the surface of her tea, she let out a weak sigh. In spite of all the herbal remedies, her skin retained an almost sickly colouration, her hair an odd white. Speaking of which, she really needed a haircut by now. Submerged in work, she had let her head become overgrown and badly kept, the twin strands on the sides of her face reaching close to the chest, while the rest crawled down her back freely. If she ever looked worse than terrible, it was definitely today. The best course of action appeared to be seeking out a hairdresser in the eve, taking just a tiny bit of time off. More than recreation, the concern laid with presentation. To show up like this in the presence of royals was unacceptable in every code of conduct still present in her brain. A disgrace, nothing less. For that reason, the advisor grasped a comb from one of the drawers beside her, attempting frantically to tame the beast atop her head to the best of abilities. After several minutes, she let it drop from her hand, looking dissatisfied into the cup serving as her mirror. Her reflection remained dreadful, and the brew had turned lukewarm in the meanwhile. With a subdued groan, the courtier stood up from her seat. Earlier, she had noticed Arvin passing by her window, and she was well aware of the destination he pursued. He had taken the same one a few times before, early in the morning, a reoccurring pattern. Before, she didn't feel like meddling in his personal affairs, but this time, it was why she tried to scramble up a more presentable look. His heart was obviously heavy with something, and the job of royal advisor, didn't it technically meld over into things like that? If not, Tessa owed it to him nonetheless.

Searching through drawers to find a suitable cup, she set for a new brew of tea. Water was boiled over a ground fire in a small pot, while the former butler worked on a blend predominantly featuring marigold and lavender. In due time, the herbs were thrown into the pot, boiling for half a dozen minutes, before the tea was filtered and emptied into two ceramic cups, resting on small plates. After placing these onto a tray, the courtier left for the yard, letting the morning breeze dance around with her hair and clothing, a loose scarf and wrinkled, albeit comfy robes. Some of these places she had passed as a child, when breaking out of her duties secretly. Youthful rebellion, it's how she began affiliating the smell of a spring morning with the smell of teen spirit. As expected, the king soon came into view, torturing some of the dummies thrown together for practice. Tessa approached him directly, subconsciously hoping that the haze of morn helped cover some of her unkempt appearance. Inhaling deeply to bolster courage, she opened her mouth to speak, soft in tone.
"Would the king perhaps care for a cup of tea?"
There was a light grin sprawling across her face, most likely a result of the nostalgia finally kicking in fully now.
"Or, should I say, his royal highness?" She questioned with a hint of playfulness, taking a bow while keeping the tray at the same elevation all through-out.

 

[Siren77]

As Arvin’s blade collided solidly with the stable frame of the practice dummy, the steel edge worked its way in and out of the now shredded sack of straw. Every once awhile it would graze against the firm wooden post within, sometimes getting stuck for a brief moment which caused the already frustrated King to grunt in anger as he had to put forth more effort to retrieve it during those strokes. His emotions were certainly a little more prone to volatile reaction than usual, and he hated that. Years spent minding his temper seemed to have been shattered over a series of bad months... it was almost disheartening to him that all the work he’d put forward to better himself was gone. And yet...

Arvin felt eyes on him which prompted his gaze to turn toward the towers of the castle. While he didn’t see anyone specific in the windows, he did see a flash of light blonde hair and a cream colored dress. It wasn’t difficult for him to guess it had been Aurelia who once stood by the windowsill. A slight smirk pressed against his mouth as Arvin gazed as the glass for a moment before turning away. Now matter how much he’d like to complain and feel bitter about all that had happened, he couldn’t say that he wasn’t in good company. His Pantheon, his brother, they’d all kept him somewhat sane throughout all this time. Thinking back to that night in the flames, he recalled how valiantly they’d all fought and braved the Demons. Even Sergio and Aurelia aided in the battle. It was an inspiring moment to say the least, but far too fleeting to fully enjoy. Both of those nobles had in a way saved his skin when his sight was temporarily taken from him, which caused that he owed them greatly. While one he didn’t mind repaying a debt, the other was a lot more problematic in how they handled favors. Alas, if Sergio asked him if something, he’d be all too inclined to make it so.

Turning back toward the dummy, Arvin let off a sigh before resuming his work, tearing apart the satisfying remains of its thrown together body.

Eventually the sack emptied out, leaving behind a tattered cloth with only the wooden bucket with a crudely painted red smiling face to serve as a sturdy target for his blade. Again and again the King struck the bucket, chipping bits of wood and metal from its exterior. This went on for quite some time until the exertion grew to be too much. Pain soon seared through his sides, over where he had his ribs crushed by the brutal might of the Cambions. Groaning, Arvin forced himself to continue swinging, though the pain caused his combinations to grow more sloppy and messy. Eventually due to his tense muscles, his sides finally seized up and cracked slightly as the bits of bone that had not fully healed slid against one another.

A fierce growl escaped the King, and he stepped away from the dummy and gripped his right side. Even after all this time he still had yet to fully recover. Granted, he hadn’t exactly been good about resting. But how could he? Some of his people were suffering, while others had perished. He couldn’t allow himself to lounge around in his quarters while they worked tirelessly to rebuild from the casualties of that night. Besides, Tessa needed help with the paperwork and behind the scenes type work, and Aurelia and Lyrren with appeasing the nobles and the people. And for his own slight vanity, he didn’t want to grow weak in his time of rest or rusty in his expertise of combat. Resting was not an option during these times.

Grunting, Arvin drooped the sword and let his right hand well his with flames before he plunged it into the smiling face make him, incinerating and destroying what remained of it. A new blade was then retrieved, and the stubborn king stepped before the next dummy and resumed his work.

But before he could get too far into his own distractions from reality, a soft voice called from behind him that he recognized in an instant. Pausing his work, Arvin chuckled before stabbing the blade into the earth and turning about to gaze upon Tessa with the same mischievous grin that he’d had when they were children.

“Since when did you choose to greet nobles with such formality?” Stepping forward even more, he stopped a few paces off and folded his arms. “I’d think you’d choose to be a bit more brash and affront like Crow at this point, given how much you like to cause trouble.” His heavy tone of snark made him seem almost normal, but he knew she of all people could see through him when he tried to mask his troubles. “Of course I’d love to spare some time for tea with an old friend.”

Arvin took ahold of the tray and lifted it from her before setting it aside on one of the racks nearby, grabbing his own cup and taking a small sip from it. The warm liquid was soothing as it traveled down his throat. The taste itself was relaxing, and he knew it from times long past.

“Marigold, why am I not surprised?” Arvin chuckled. “You always had a motherly habit of using your expansive knowledge to help your friends. And I was always fortunate to receive it, but unfortunate to never be able to fully return the favor. It’s ironic that nothings changed, as I still benefit from you and others but can do little to help you all in return. It’s almost. A little maddening isn’t it?”

He sighed and set the cup down on the tray, before leaning himself up on the rack.

“I’m failing him, Tess. I’m failing the charity that he bestowed upon this Kingdom. People used to be so happy and so cohesive. But now? There’s divides all around. Divides of class, divides of faith, and devises of loyalty. And what’s worse is I can get no answers from those I’m meant to serve. I’m lost, and I fear things will only get worse.” His emerald green eyes looked up to her, plagued with fear. “What should I do?”
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Interactions: AiDEE-c0
Mentions: Jack19XK Juju seasonedcat ItsKenAgain Ramjammer The True Plague

 

[Ramjammer]

The dreams were still the same.

A sea of blood stretching from horizon to horizon. Flocks of carrion birds drifting lazily overhead in a black mass. Occasionally, they'd alight on a bloated corpse, pecking at exposed flesh and calling out in hoarse squawks. The sea would rise, and the bodies along with it. And then she'd be pulled to that dark and cold place. It was suffocating in its silence, and merciless in its indifference of all things good and just.

Always, that thing in the dark would speak. The thing with no name. She knew that it truly had a name. All things did. Those long gone, and those yet to be. But within that dark, cold and unwelcoming place it had none. It's name, whatever it was had been too old, and too terrible for her to dare consider, much less utter aloud. Names held power, and none more than names so old that only the stars dared to recall them.

It was the same, even two months later. It was the same, and yet it was different.

Before, the bodies too had no names. But it hadn't mattered then, anyway. All she'd known was that they were victims. Each soul was innocent, or at the least, undeserving of the calamity that befell them.

But after the city had almost fallen. After the capital burned, and with it her citizens, the dream changed. It was the same, always the same. And it was different, if slightly.

But it was so much worse.

That sea of gore still lapped at her boots, staining them blacker still. The bodies numbered too high to count, too high for her to even bear. And the sky burned. Grey clouds now a choking pall of smoke hanging overhead, filling her lungs fit to burst and stinging every breath with an acrid burn. Ash and embers fell ceaselessly. And therein was an agonizing serenity. Like a gentle snow, it rained down. It was beautiful, and mocking, and quiet, and a reminder of her failure. From horizon to horizon it was all the same. The sea of bodies ever rising, and the sky burning forevermore.

The bodies, once souls unknown to her, took on a startling familiarity. They had faces now. Names, families. Hopes and dreams. Crow, his masked stripped away and his eyes lifeless. He'd beheld as much death as any soldier, perhaps more than any and there at her feet it beheld him in return.

The nobles, Sergio and Aurelia drifted near enough to each other to be practically touching. Like lovers, they lay there in the red tide and floated peacefully by. Delicate, even in death. All tattered silks and gossamer locks. Had the wind warned Serigio of the flames licking ever closer, clawing their way up to the pair's ivory tower? Had Aurelia's countless tittering birds deigned to alight their Mistress' shoulder once more and warn of her of the tragedy that loomed ahead?

Aurin, a man that had only just learned the taste of blood. How to draw it, how to feed it to the earth. A soldier green, but Nemir had been so sure she'd make a warrior of him yet. He grasped his spear limply in one hand, the weapon utterly useless in the grip of a corpse.And only slightly less so when he still drew breath, pained and fearful as they were. What steel could cut through the flames, the darkness, the horror clawing at the Kingdom's walls and threatening to bring it all crashing down around their heads?

The guiding hand of Örn, Tessa rested not far away. Could she have possibly foreseen such a disaster? Navigated it the way she so deftly maneuvered through Orn's courts? Would her guidance have steered them all away from certain doom? Perhaps not. As it claimed her too. And it was only natural that everything else would fall after she did.

Arvin was there, bereft of life, of energy, of simply being. That cocky smirk wiped from his face, and that ever present glimmer of determination in his eyes snuffed out. Lyrren, young, headstrong, so sure of his place in the world lay next to him. Both too young to bear the burden of a crown, both too young to die.

And there Nemir stood. Too old to suffer the indignity of living while the young died in her stead. Too tired to fight the familiar darkness creeping ever closer and washing that sea of blood away, before blotting out the flames burning all around her.

Too ashamed to look Kungen in the eye as he stood before her, the inky veil of dark hanging over the both of them.

"My sons are dead." He said. His voice distant and hollow, like so many deep places of the earth.

"Why are my sons dead, Nemir?" He'd ask. He always asked the same thing since that day. That great hulking thing in the dark was sometimes replaced with something far worse. A specter of her past. A reminder of her greatest shame. And each time she would stand there in dumb silence. Numb to the cold seeping into her bones. Trying, and always failing to ignore the twisting in her gut, and the tightness in her chest.

"Why are my sons dead? Why is my kingdom naught but ash?" Again, he asked. Again the hollow voice drew her in. Deep, and dark, and distant and so cold.

"Why do you live still, when everything I love has died?"

She had no answer. She never did.

If there came a time when Nemir had an answer for Kungen, or for that thing lurking in the darkness, just beyond her sight and comprehension, it did not come that morning.

Wakefulness found her instead. No more a blessing than her dreams. Nemir had never been a good dreamer, and her waking hours rated only slightly above them. But the weeks following the Arvin's birthday could be reliably ranked as resoundingly awful.

Naturally, she wasn't alone in that opinion. Who within the Capital hadn't suffered that day? Loved ones stolen before your eyes, homes burning as far as the eye could see. The losses were less than they'd initially thought. Too few to call the incident a true catastrophe. But that left plenty alive who would carry the terror of the day with them for the rest of their lives. Scars of the body would mend eventually, and once could even forget they had them if given enough time.

Scars of the mind and soul were far worse. Insidious and unrelenting. They would dig themselves into the hearts of men, never healing and always painful is irrititated. And the pain would strike at any moment. One didn't need to be directly reminded of the tragedy for it to hurt them anew. One misplaced word, a certain color, the smell of a particular perfume. Something innocuous and insignificant, on so small that the hurt it caused was inconceivable in comparison. That was all that it took. And when suffering torment of the soul, there was no telling what a person might do. The scars that never faded endangered all.

Nemir was not normally one to lounge in bed and allow her mind to wander. But the dream had been particular vivid this time around. She could almost taste the bitter tang of ash on her tongue, and the cloying smell of rot and blood still lingered in her nose. It was a frightful thing, to carry one's nightmares into the waking world. When the veil between sleep and wakefulness was torn, it never boded well.

She sat up, feet kicking away blankets to rest on the wooden floor. The day had scarce started. Through the window of her sleeping chambers, Nemir could see the barest sliver of the sun peeking over the horizon. Dawn brought as many problems as sleep did these days. But they were at least tangible. They could at least be solved.

Ghan's head lifted from the floor, and he stared at his Mistress blearily as she finally found it in herself to make ready for the day. Nemir gave the Hyena a wan smile, watching as he rolled to his feet from where he rested in a nest of furs and blankets. "Good morning, lazybones." She whispered, reaching down to ruffle the Hyena's mane affectionately. Ghan's stub of a tail wagged rapidly as he leaned into the touch and Nemir could not help a soft chuckle.

If Hyenas had dreams, they were never bad enough to keep them from smiling. At least one among them still could.

Getting ready for the day was a quick and efficient affair. A bath, followed by a simple breakfast was all the luxury the Judicator allowed herself in the morning, she saved relaxation for the evening after a job (Or several depending on the day.) well done. She'd check her armor blade before donning both and heading out. Nemir preferred not to waste the day primping herself, and it was as pointless an exercise as any. Once the helmet was put on, it didn't really matter. Nemir wasn't interested in charming people so much as she was putting the fear of the Gods into them. Something she'd been doing quite a bit recently

When Demons started breaking into people's homes and eating them in front of their crying children, before then turning on those children and eating them, they stopped trusting in the Gods.

It wasn't an uncommon line of thinking, and Nemir wasn't so wholly incapable of empathizing with others that she'd blame them. A good chunk of the victims were poor. Commoners who hadn't been close enough to the castle at the time to be afforded protection within its walls. They had little, if any reason to believe that the Gods cared one whit for them when many starved on a daily baisis, or were one stroke of bad luck away from it.

What need did people who had nothing to begin with only to have more taken from them for Gods? It was a folly, praying for aid and clemency for beings who'd probably ensured your lot in life to begin with.

The weak had no interest in Gods. Only in their survival. They feared enough, had lost enough and suffered enough as it was.

It was instead, always the strong that forgot what that fear was. The wealthy, the elite. Nobility in name only. They thanked the Gods tremendously for their good fortune.They exalted the Gods for keeping the gold in their coffers, knowing that Demons had no use for it. They sang praises all day and night, thanking the Gods for their miserable lives defended valiantly by their paid guards all the way down to simple kitchen staff. They marveled at the fortune the Gods saw fit to grace them with, that their homes of brick and mortar had survived the ravages of fires far better than the homes of wood and thatch that the common folk so often lived in.

Their prayers, their hymns, their exaltations were nothing but a sham. And in their ignorance, in their arrogance, they took. The Gods decreed, that the Nobility would not only survive, but prosper. They were blessed, special, worthy. The little folk not much so.

But, but! If those peasants would but swear their undying fealty, their loyalty, their lives to them, then all would be well. How better to receive the favor of the Gods then by placing yourself willingly under the heel of those most blessed? It was an act of sacrifice; you see. No one was forcing those good men and women to give their lives over to the Nobility. They chose to do so! A mark of their goodness, and their willingness to suffer for the greater good. What greater good was there than the love of the Gods?

And what else could they possibly have to lose?

It was written there in the Laws of Örn, that the strong would always protect the weak. The young, the old, those too faint-hearted for war were to be looked after by those whose arms were mighty enough to raise a sword. And it was written, that in times of strife and scarcity, and suffering, that those who had would see to the needs of those who had not. It was only right, and it was only just. It need not be coin. Skills and trades were just as good as gold. What good was coin if there were no Carpenters to hire, or Millers to grind wheat?

It had always been so, and it always would be. Arvin, kind as always, gave much and gave freely. Nemir could not faul the boy for his generosity. But it was a double-edged sword. The Nobility hid behind the shield of his generosity. It was the King's duty, above all others to see to the needs of his people. Even those in high places could not call themselves higher than the King. And so why should they give? Were they not Citizens one and all?

Graciously, most of them did not go so far as to take any aid from the Crown. Even pigs that wallowed in the mud all day were far more clever than anyone knew. But the Nobles did not give. At least not to the right people, and never enough.

They certainly liked to ask a lot of people that had nothing to give in return, however.

Nemir couldn't even say that it surprised her. It was always the way of things. Some disaster would befall the people.The Nobility needed someone to replant their awful gardens, or whatever the hell else they deemed more important than tending to the Kingdom, and they'd offer Commoners far less pay for their work than they would in times of peace. None of them were in a position to say no, to a few crusts of bread and a cot in the barn and both parties knew that.

Which was why Nemir found herself getting up early every day for the past two months, adorning her armor and setting out to determine who was the biggest bastard in a forest of them.

It was thankless work.

Her departure of the Castle grounds often took her past the courtyard, and that day was no different. Ghan, who'd been close at her heels suddenly bolted off excitedly, and Nemir could only groan and follow at a distance.

It was the same each day. Arvin would come out to train early each day, working himself to exhaustion for reasons that Nemir understood all too well. He hid his pain, but it was there. Just bubbling under the skin and waiting to boil over. He'd been ordered to rest until he healed properly, but the Judicator knew that rest only offered one time to think. And in times such as these, thinking for too long was the last thing anyone wanted to do.

That morning was different, as Arvin had company. Ghan seemed to have taken a liking to Tessa about as much as Arvin, but Ghan liked everyone. Even Aurelia who'd screeched the first time the Hyena had come galloping towards her with muddy paws and soaking wet fur after a sudden storm had caught him and Nemir unawares on their return trip from beyond the walls. He hadn't minded that she swatted him away and called him foul and ugly. But Nemir minded, she'd minded a lot because Ghan wasn't ugly. He was strong and handsome, and clearly the little Noblewoman had awful taste as evidenced by the fact that she didn't even own any armor, like some sort of madwoman.

Nemir tried and failed to haul the Hyena away from the pair. They were clearly having tea, and very much in the middle of a conversation. Friendly as he was, Nemir doubted that either of them would appreciate a Hyena trying to drink from their cups and finally wrestled Ghan away. Not that he cared or minded at all, to him it was all one large game.

The Judicator huffed in exasperation and raised a gauntleted fist in greeting. "A fair morning to you both. I was just setting out to make my rounds. I trust you're both well?"

 

[AiDEE-c0]

Tessa Rimbaud
Location: The Castle.
Time: Early Morning.
Interactions: Siren77 Ramjammer​

Tessa kept up a wide smile as the king turned towards her. This was the man who bore all the pressure of standing at the head of an entire nation, the shepherd of a million peoples. But, predominantly he was a friend, to whom she owed much, and who she wanted to help as much she could, so that he never had to stand alone. While the inflection of his voice signalled fondness of her presence, she felt better than anyone a hidden sadness behind his words, that she desired to wrap her fingers around, twist off like an undesired tick. This was her job, this was her debt, and this was her wish, highest of all. In response to being teased, she tilted her back forward, pointing her index finger towards the sky and making a disciplinary gesture.
"A butler always refers to a guest with their highest title," she spoke, attempting awfully to replicate the deep, stern voice of her adoptive father and childhood teacher. It was a light-hearted imitation, meant with no ill-will or disrespect. The man had always taken great care of her, and she was thankful for what he provided.

As Arvin took a hold of the tray, the courtier nodded with a calm expression. She picked up her own cup, letting the vapours warm up her skin, before taking the initial sip with just enough grace to help divert from her currently abysmal appearance. The batch was lightly fresher than before, subduing worry and calming the mind's machinations. At times most dire, tea was the secret to Tessa's patience and collected head. As the king spoke, she faced him with a cheery grin, chuckling. "Never return the favour? We're not here to trade favours, my liege." Then he plopped down his cup with a sigh, supporting himself by a rack. His oncoming words made the advisor's smile falter for a brief moment, but she quickly shook her head and brought herself back to smirking, a newfound kind of determination swelling up inside her.
"...You're strong. No one doubts that you are, no one would. Here. The stuck up marshals would tell you to suck it up, but let me give you a lady's advice, okay?"
Taking a step closer, she moved in to hold the king's right hand besides his body, a gesture of reassurement, or so she read it.
"Even the strongest structures would fall without strong support beams. Believe in yourself, and believe in us. Believe that we're here for you, that we won't ask for anything in return."
"You give us purpose,... I-"

Tessa's speech was suddenly interrupted by a hyena sprinting up towards them. At its note, the former butler quickly released the king's hand, assuming back an elegant posture. As expected, the creature was followed by the Judicator, who gave mighty attempt at wrestling it away from them. Such is the bane of talking in the open, it supposes. Perhaps, further company wasn't entirely desired right now, but the courtier didn't let it spoil her smile. The day was long, there would be more opportunity to talk alone later.
"Ah, lady Nemir. Pleasant to be seeing you," she spoke, again softly. "We're having a... morning discussion, nothing more."
She gave a small nod while talking, hiding an embarrassed blush behind her cup of tea.
"How goes your morning?"

 

[ItsKenAgain]

Morning twilight had finally arrived, and with it the faint semblance of light painting the sky that spilled into the knight’s open windows. Aurin had been up for quite awhile, beginning his work as soon as he opened his eyes. He’d light the candles arranged on his nightstand and start preparing for the day by reading all the reports he’d been left. How many new recruits had trickled in the previous night, how they were doing on the distribution of supplies, any ongoing issues within the ranks and of course progress on the training regimens he’d started them on. The moment the sun showed its rays it was time to take those reports and begin taking action again.

He’d have words with the other members of the Pantheon frequently, either in letter, or if time willed it, in person. Some of them were specifically helpful to him. Aurelia and Tessa were excellent, hearing him out when he expressed the need for resources, and often did what they could to make sure that the troops stayed provided for. Either craftily pulling strings with connections as the Ambassador did to gain additional supplies, or diligently weighing options with what the crown had readily available to make sure it was being used to its best potential as the Adviser did . Keeping the ranks taken care of was one of the biggest challenges once the recruiting efforts had been started.

After the attack those weeks ago, Aurin began taking the opportunity as it presented itself to make a profitable outcome from the devastation that had hit the city. Many were left without homes, or orphaned, lost their livelihoods due to the destruction. After speaking with King Arvin, he came to the conclusion that the best option was to offer those citizens an alternative, an incentive for some revenge against the Void, and most importantly for many of those that joined, refuge and food in exchange for a pledge to fight for the crown. Of course, that meant finding the means to carry out that promise of shelter and enough meals to keep them ready to fight, metal and the labor needed to craft weapons and armor, a whole mess of logistics that Aurin was thankful to have help with, and the support of the King to push the plans forward.

He would meet with Sergio, the Spymaster when he was able to to gain intelligence that would help him recruit. This was extremely valuable in spreading the word, but also in letting him know where his efforts were most useful. For example, which nobles could be persuaded into offering experienced knights, squires, or pages to answer the call of the King’s army. Some were reluctant, but the Spymaster had his trove of secrets that would help coax them into providing. With that on their side, Aurin was able to give structure to the ranks of the army, and put competent leaders in charge of the majority of young, inexperienced recruits. Without, he’d essentially be running a charity house instead of preparing thousands of fighters.

The Judicator, Nemir, had been doing the bulk work of maintaining order in the aftermath of the attack. She was constantly keeping chaos and lawlessness from taking over the streets. That helped immensely with the recruiting effort, by allowing people to be more accepting when the Royal Army reached out, since they could see the efforts being made to keep their communities safe while the repairs were beginning. Of course, King Arvin did much in this field of having to reassure his subjects that the Kingdom was behind them as well. And then, there was Crow, the Royal Doctor. He understandably had his hands entirely full with the injured and dying after the attack, and still did all these weeks later. The majority of recruits into the King’s army were the ones lucky enough to be in fighting condition, and those who only had minor injuries could either pull through or get medical help that didn’t need to be as advanced as what the Royal Doctor offered. The Knight’s own interactions with Crow had been… minimal.

Aurin walked with soft steps through his room to the table by the window, pouring a small amount of wine into a chalice and drinking it quickly. He sighed as he placed the empty cup on the windowsill, his right hand reaching across his body to feel at his side. He had yet to dress fully, so his fingers went over his warm, bare skin and the marks of the fledgling bite that still remained. The bite covered the small Knight’s torso like two jagged crescent moons, with dozens of raised, bumpy scars where the disgusting creature’s teeth had sunk into him through his party clothes. The healing had been rough, and he was still left stiff and sore every day from the way it had scarred, hence the wine as a bit of pain management to get him loosened up before jumping into training among the troops.

Of course he had refused to see the Royal Doctor, and he refused to let anybody believe the injury was as bad as it was. The night of the battle, after all was over and he could finally return to his quarters, with the help of his page he went about cleaning the filth of the fight off of himself as thoroughly as possible. That’s really all the Knight did in way of treating his injury. Attempt to keep it clean daily, wrap it in bandages, the most basic steps that a Knight would know to treat any small injuries sustained on the battlefield, only this was no small injury. It was a bite from a creature that possessed any number of unknowable diseases and furthermore, after the bite, Ser Elliot had been rolling around in the filth of the street when in battle with the cambion he’d culled.

Needless to say the wound was infected, and the Knight fell ill rather fast. He was in denial of his condition, choosing to spend this time “recovering from the battle” by starting the groundwork to begin recruiting the misplaced. He worked from his room shortly after the attack as much as possible, writing letters, having supplies moved, assuring that the barracks were in order to take on a large number of people. He’d send the page to deliver these letters for him, but the young man could see the Knight was declining quickly. The page, Kipling, was constantly in the Knight’s service, and when Aurin’s health did a nose dive, he took matters into his own hands, seeing as Aurin was far too stubborn to see the doctor, or any doctor for that matter.

Unbeknownst to Aurin, the (then) page had been meeting in secret with Crow’s apprentice, Raven, asking for help and advice. Kipling may or may not have used the Knight’s poor health as an opportunity to drug him into a deep slumber to get him some actual medical attention. When the Knight awoke, the page lied to him, suggesting to Aurin that “the fever must have burned off the infection” while he’d been asleep. The Knight’s physical decline had taken about a week and a half, the recovery to get back to a decent enough state to do some hands-on groundwork and begin training took about as long, but being stuck in his room for that time allowed the Knight to focus on getting all the systems in place before putting them into use.

As soon as Aurin was able to get out there and start working among the troops, he figured he could use all the help he could get to keep things running somewhat orderly. He decided with the permission of the King, to promote Kipling, who had been accompanying him since he’d moved to the castle, into his own squire to be trained to fight alongside him. Kip was a dutiful lad, around 16, with a curious and clever mind as well as a penchant for being a bit mischievous, but he was excellent at taking tasks in stride and jumped at the opportunity for more work.

Just as the Knight was getting lost in thought about all of this, the squire arrived, interrupting his wandering mind to bring him his armor and spear, which had been cleaned and sharpened for the day.

“News from the barracks today, Ser.” The boy said as he entered Aurin’s open chamber door and began arranging the armor pieces on the bed just as many mornings before. Aurin had sworn off of casual clothing since the party, vividly remembering ordering his ruined party clothes to be ‘burned or cut up and used as rags to clean the demon shit from the streets’. He sighed and began layering it all on, letting Kipling fool with the strings and buckles as he went.

“Lovely. If it wasn’t on the report, it must mean something happened late last night. A huge group of new recruits showing up out of the blue would be great, but I doubt we have the good fortune to bear that sort of news. So, then, what is it?” He asked, expecting any number of disappointing replies. The Knight caught a slight roll of Kip’s brown eyes and knew he was in for it today.

“A large fight broke out among some of the recruits. Something about sleeping arrangements. A few of the knights finally broke it up, and made everyone involved sleep on the floor as punishment, but they asked for your attention on the matter.” The squire explained. He looked to the Knight through blond locks in wait for his reaction. Aurin’s expression was dead pan, but his eyes were seething.

“Peasants.” Spite laced the word. “We give them a place to sleep and they argue amongst themselves over it. They still have much to learn of the value of discipline. Today, we will have to teach them some.” He remarked. So many of the new soldiers were here because they had nowhere left to go, but they lacked many of the qualities that they now had to force onto them. Fighting skills, order, rank, duty… More recruits than Aurin liked didn’t respect these things as they should, instead they expected to come here and slide by in turn for a free bed. They would need to be strict if they were to lay down the expectations of the King’s Royal Army.

Pulling on his gauntlets and equipping his spear, the Knight called for Kipling to follow him as he set out to begin the day. His path would take him out of the castle, past the private courtyard where he would sometimes practice to limber up. He didn’t plan to spend time on that today, but as he stepped outside, he noticed King Arvin at work on the practice dummies anyway. He was clearly feeling quite emotional as he stopped hacking at it with his sword to burn away at its face with his miracle from Kasai. Aurin wasn’t the only one who seemed to have his attention drawn to this. From the distance, Aurelia was watching, and soon Miss Rimbaud approached gently with an offering of tea. Aurin watched as his path took him nearer. The Advisor and Arvin were conversing, and suddenly a giant malformed dog started bounding towards the pair, followed by Nemir, attempting to wrestle some manners into him. Aurin chuckled a bit, and began to draw closer to the unexpected gathering. Maybe she could wrestle some manners into the recruits. He mused. Or at least frighten them with that mutt.

“Well, half the Pantheon is here! That’s more than I’ve seen at once in too long. How fortuitous it is that we get to start our morning crossing paths.” The Knight smiled as he decided to join them briefly, short, brisk steps leading him into the courtyard.