The Village of Asura (Prelude) [Return of the Scarlet Empress]

[Myllinnia]

Asura Village is a remote and small village. Laying along the southern bank of the mighty Grey River just a week or more distance from the City of Nexus, this village has a remarkable secret, its farms are strong, and its port is worthy enough of its Trade to Nexus. There are rumors that a Realm Dynast has been sent to the village to discern the secret, other rumors say that an Anathema is at the heart of the good and plentiful harvests, countless rumors, yet no one can confirm it. Illyana has arrived, taking a boat from the city Nexus she has come to this village, to test her music here as well as understand why the Villages harvest this Season has not arrived at the Distribution centers at Nexus. People there are not too worried, other sources do come through Nexus, but a poorer village further away might find itself in dire straits. Ellysse, Oresius, and Grimoire have been traveling far and at best keeping their own profiles low for the moment, Nexus would give all three travelers a place to take a breather, but first a boat would have to be hired to take them there.


Still for the four Exalts as they enter the village square they find themselves assaulted by the sounds of heavy work. For it is at the center, where a large hole has been dug, the four have met and the tugs of destiny have brought them. A feeling of nostalgia washes over the four, mixed with a sense of familiarity. Were it not for the angry shout followed by the crack of a whip perhaps the four might have actually had a chance to act upon the strange feelings. The sounds come from the hole, where wooden ramps are set leading down into its depths. Shirtless, dirty, yet muscular men warily pull carts of rock and dirt from the hole and travel to the east of the town, and a pair of men stand at the ramp’s top each with covered swords and red jade armor, whips also hang from their hips as cold eyes follow the workers from the ramp.


The normal people here are few, older (and braver) women and younger children silently and quickly race between points not even looking at the strangers. Vendor stalls are empty and abandoned, even fruit lies on on stall untouched. A small ship lies along the pier near the river, its sails are furled, and no flag adorns its mast.

 

[Hoshiko]

Illyana took a deep breath as she walked leisurely past a small, wooden house, idly noticing the smell of cooking porridge that the light breeze wafted towards the outside. A small pang of hunger ran through her, yet she quickly suppressed it; she would eat soon enough, and she couldn’t just waltz in and ask the family inside for their food! “Well, actually, I could,†she thought, her left hand idly adjusting the leather strap that held her lute to her back, displacing it a bit towards the right to ease the tension on her shoulder, “but then I’d have the Wyld Hunt chasing after me!†The thought of a Dragon-blood chasing her, demanding payment for food was enough to elicit a small giggle. An older man, with graying hair and tanned skin, looked at her oddly as he walked past in the opposite direction, carrying a boulder in his hands; looking away, she tried to keep a straight face as she continued her wandering through the small village. It wasn’t really a laughing matter, though. According to the monks back home, some of the Anathema used their powers to do just that; coerce and threaten the normal people to worship them, or give tribute. She shuddered as she thought of how easy it would be; she had seen the power her music could hold over the hearts of others once, and she had no doubt it could just as easily turn the happy, common folk of this village into mindless slaves.


The wooden huts and shacks gave way to slightly sturdier structures as she neared the small village’s center; a washed-out sign, bearing a picture of a flagon of beer, creaked over the sounds of loud voices as it swung back and forth lazily, attached to a wooden pole by rusted iron chains to a weathered building. Surprisingly, though, the muffled voices that filled the air seemed to come from the village center, rather than the inside of the pub; Illyana took note of its location, just in case she hadn’t found an inn to play at by the time the evening arrived. She disliked the crowds at taverns; they usually were much rougher than those at inns, if only because the inn owners usually had less tolerance for troublemakers. Besides, the places just reeked of alcohol. Still, she had to earn money somewhere; her funds were running out again, and some pieces of jade scrip would be more than welcome. Maybe the people at the square wouldn’t mind a small performance either; she could earn a bit of money from the crowd that should be gathered there.


Two small dogs ran past as she entered the village square proper, which seemed to be particularly active; people milled and ran around carrying various utensils for work, some of them talking huddled in corners as they cast wary glances towards the center. The sound of metallic tools impacting each other rang out, accompanied by the dull, rhythmic thud of shovels digging into the ground, and the smell of sweat filled the air. Illya couldn’t help but stare as a man ran past, his face filled with pain, pulling a wagon full of dirt behind him. She turned her head back towards the village center, scanning the crowd gathered there; she noticed most seemed to be working on something near the center. Curious, she stepped a bit closer, but stopped as she noticed two men, clad in red jade armor, staring ominously at the workers. She took a step back, noticing the whips at their hips; the musician realized that this was no ordinary job, but forced labor, and that strangers probably wouldn’t be very welcome. She averted her eyes, hoping the armored men hadn’t noticed her, as she walked back towards the fringes of the square; maybe she could observe quietly from a distance for a little while, and find out what was going on in the town. Uncertainty assaulted her as she heard a whip crack out, lashing towards a man who had been too slow to take his wagon away. Should she do something to help them? Could she, even? The strange light that had awakened within her a few months ago stirred, eager to be called, yet she refused to do so. She still had no idea of what was going on, and it was too dangerous to just rush forward recklessly. No, the best she could do was to observe for now, and learn; maybe the men were emissaries of the Empire, and this was actually just a regular job. Her line of reasoning, however, did nothing to appease the sense of doubt and unease that filled her as the whipped man's screams reverberated through the air.

 

[Tabby]

Elysse, for her part, was hanging awkwardly about the far edge of the crowd, keeping an eye on everything, as was her wont, but never comfortable in large crowds - or crowds of any size, really - and kind of wishing that she knew where Grimoire was. He was somewhere around here, she was sure of that, but as to exactly where... and she couldn't really do rooftop recon either. Tended to draw too much attention unless one knew the area intimately, or was at least moving quickly enough to keep out of focused eyesight. The latter was preferable to the former - moving quickly was her forte, after all. Wind in her hair, air under her feet, and the knowledge that she was moving faster on foot than most mortals would ever move regardless of transportation. Well, that last part wasn't really the reason she liked it, but it felt perversely proper. And she was allowed to be petty sometimes. Certainly that damn Lunar abused the privilege. Wherever the hell he was now.


She drew the tattered robe closer to her body, subconsciously feeling safer in its embrace, and yet very much conscious of the complete ludicrousness of the concept. Safer? In what was essentially a large rag that somewhat hindered movement? The Wraith of Blades sighed, allowing herself to revert to her training in order to resist the all-too-human urge to fidget or play with her hair or do something that might draw attention to herself. Keep your eyes wandering - take in everything possible, guards and obstacles and human shields and escape routes and weapons and plans of attack. Keep the mind busy working them out. Work out a plan to kill any given bystander or opponent quickly.


That man - he was slouching a bit. Bad posture. Probably a weaker spine. Good place to hit, cripple him before finishing him off. The women in the shawl - a baby in her arms. Hostage, or weapon. Ten pounds at sufficient velocity could collapse a ribcage. Someone else's, and the runt's to boot. The men with whips... probably soldiers. Whether they were trained Realm men or just two idiots with swords was hard to tell from this difference, but they could certainly pose as reasonably effective "obstacles" if it came down to it. Odds would be on her side if she struck first and managed to take one down before the other could react, otherwise she'd be fighting a two-front defensive action, and that alone indicated a failure in planning. Or execution. Either or both.


Macabre, but effective. The tension gradually drained from her body, alongside emotion and weakness - only mind and body remained, honed, ready. Elysse pondered it for a moment - ready for what? - then mentally shrugged it off. It couldn't hurt to be ready. Just in case, you understand. Oresius could do something stupid - wouldn't that be a surprise - or Grimoire could. No. Stay calm. Dispassionate. Emotion is the enemy. Empathy is what causes you to leave the bawling child alone after killing his father, and then twenty years later that bawling child, now grown up, lops you in half and savages the corpse. Just don't do anything stupid. Grimoire taught you enough to blend in. ...Or more accurately, at least not stick out too much.


...At least Raziel was quiescent. For now. She really, really wasn't in the mood to deal with him right now.

 

[Blacklion]

Grimoire on the other hand chose to dabble along the interest of the town. Particularly getting just a wee bit of information from anyone he possibly could without attracting attention. It didn't help he had this large blade, though cloth finely, on his backside but the Sun's Basque wasn't something he could afford to leave around. Especially since the Tome wouldn't like it one bit and he tried to avoid hearing it's thoughts when it came to such a subjects.


It wasn't exactly his ideal to leave behind to somewhat normal Elysse behind either. Considering her condition, but he had done his best to integrate her back into the social standards as best he could, even if she could pass off as a commoner. Which was possibly hoping too much, but he trusted the only one, Ore as he shortened name to, could keep watch over her. With his body enabled to change shape at the whim, it seemed like a good idea if only because if he was exposed, only he would targeted. At least from his party.


It's a good thing you left her behind. She'd be a nuisance to you. The books thoughts connected with his, and all the young man could do was chuckle. Relax tome, she isn't all bad. A bit messed up but what in this world isn't? He huffed before the Tome spoke again. The Terrestials. The Children of those Dragons, the very ones who took what wasn't theres and created this so called 'creation'. Gaia, a shame you gave birth to the very destruction of the Sun. He couldn't argue against that. It was due to their upbringings and usurpation that they were now regarded as demons.


Ah well.


Enough on that, Tome. I need to find someone who we can question. And now his eyes traveled all over the crowds of people. A merchant would be ideal, as one who has traveled across these lands could be filled with a brim of information if pursued the right away. Persuasion or intimidation, how fun.

 

[guacAnole]

The smell of dust rising into the air assaulted Oresius' nose, disturbed by the rhythmic pounding of feet as workers and townspeople milled and toiled around the square. The wind brought many sensations to the Lunar's attention: the scent of sweat, the groans and keening sounds of laborers, and the cracking of whips that punctuated the mysterious progress that was taking place right in the center of town. It was obvious that the townspeople were made to work during the day in order to subjugate them - toiling under the sun in the hottest hours of the day would exhaust them and quell any resistance they otherwise offered. Ore could remember all too well what it was like to struggle and fight just to stay on your feet, although his own history included rare 'honest days' work'. His youth spent on the streets and in the back alleys of Lookshy had been more of a struggle to survive, sometimes literally - until the night he'd been taken in to a larger lot in life. From being just another grain of dirt, another piece of litter that graced the streets of the Eastern city, he had been caught up in something bigger than himself. Bigger than he understood, even still. In more ways than one, he had ascended beyond his own previous limitations. And yet, for every answer the Silver Pact held for him, there were a million more questions.


A billion unknowns, twists and turns and eddies of fate that refused to open to his somewhat straight-forward mind. For being a Chosen of Luna, he was remarkably simplistic in his approach to most situations, viewing them as naught but Gordian Knots to be undone by the unstoppable force of his fascination and indefatigable efforts. The tactic had tended him well enough so far, but was far from infallible - there were still mysteries aplenty that evaded his savant-like aptitude for deeper intelligence. Wandering through the center of town, the vestiges of usual trade were still easily found not far from their normal marketplace in the square, presenting the Exalt with a variety of distractions. Little more than boards propped together for the most part, the few hagglers and merchants present had nothing more than various trinkets and a few foodstuffs. Drifting through the crowd with the practiced ease of a street-rat, Ore paused beside a board spread with rolls and breads, eyebrow quirking as he calculated the odds of a loaf not being missed. His stomach growled in encouragement as he reached down to inspect the freshness of the likely stale wares when it hit him like a ton of bricks. Gripping the edge of the stall, his eyes squeezed shut as the feeling washed over him from tip to toes - dark sensations that weren't his. Pressure, captivity, stifling frustration, oppressive futility. A flash of a face drifted past his closed eyelids, features indistinct but inherently familiar, a sense of urgency and connection giving the brief vision context.


Just as soon as it hit him, it was over, confusion and disorientation filling the space that just a moment before had been filled with a desire to... to something important for someone. For someone important. "You alright, mister?" the ever eloquent local inquired, suspicious expression regarding the outsider. Shaking his head, Oresius clenched his jaw, grounding himself in the sensations of his feet on the earth and the same unpleasant smells and sights of before. “Dandy,†he shot back, eyes narrowed in defiance as he stood up straight. When had he fallen forward like that, clenched tightly to the edge of the stall as though he was about to pass out? The crumbs of the loaf he'd smashed in his grip fell to the ground as the stall keeper geared up to harangue him, getting as far as "You're gonna have to pay for that-" before a scrip of jade was tossed in the older man's direction to shut him up. Drifting away into the crowd again, his sharp golden-hued eyes began to seek out the other two. Gaze darting back and forth, he shuffled through the peasants and workers, unafraid to delve right into the center of the mob. Years of living around city folk had impressed things onto his mind - for all the awareness that you lost when entering a crowd proper, you made up for in the awareness of others and the ability to lose yourself entirely.


His average height, average looks and patched clothing were little different than the locals, and the smudges of dirt that made themselves apparent on his clothes and face did nothing to separate him from the workers of the area. Unfortunately, the same advantage that kept him from standing out... kept him from standing out, meaning that he would have to find the others rather than waiting for them to find him. But there, on the edge of the area, he could see Elysse in the shadows. Ever since he had attacked her - granted, mistakenly - things had been terse between the two, and it did nothing to ease his mind that she still seemed to smell faintly of infernal presence. As though part of her identity itself was tainted, but beyond knowing: and so he watched her from a safe distance. Just exactly who, or what, she was he had no idea, but she was a liability to keep an eye on; he knew that much for certain. Spotting Grim then, out of the corner of his eye, Ore slunk through the crowd, drifting like a leaf being carried by a breeze until he deposited himself at the wise man's side. “This place smells like shit,†he muttered to the other man, announcing his presence.

 

[Myllinnia]

A cry rises from the large hole and the two guards at the top with their whips smirk and chuckle to themselves. But their moment of mirth is short lived as the very earth shakes, and with it comes a feeling of old and ancient power, a feeling that presses lightly against the four of you. The shaking causes a panic in the citizens and doors are closed, somewhere the sound of a building collapses echoes and smoke and dust rises from the east side to drift towards the square. Others fall to the ground some praying to the gods with quick desperate prayers. From the hole three other armored men with whips races out fearful glances cast to the bottom before stopping at the top. Carts are abandoned as weak and tired men attempt to flee only to stop as one of the whip carrying men remind them that escape would be quite costly. Still, its the center of the square, where the large hole lies, a soft blue pulses gently there and the shaking slowly subsides. A strange scent fills the air, a sweet scent.


Workers stands defeated near the hole and four of the armored men stare into the hole talking softly amongst themselves, but apparently the working has stopped for now.

 

[Hoshiko]

Illyana closed her eyes and winced as the sound of a whip cracked through the air once more, striking a man lying prone on the ground. The worker grunted in pain, sweat covering his entire body, which glistened under the unrelenting glare of the sun. His well-muscled arms laid limply at his sides; the man was obviously exhausted, but he still refused to cry out as the whip struck him a second time. He tried to push his body off the ground; his arms shuddered as he forced them to lift his body through willpower alone. The limbs trembled wildly as he brought his knee forward to rise, only to be forced back down by the guard, his cruel laughter filling the town square.


Indignation filled Illyana as she silently observed the scene, and mixed with her self-doubt; she had seen their kind back in her hometown, people who abused those of lower status just because they could. Men and women of power who entered the poorer districts with their mercenaries in tow, intimidating and harassing the families there for fun; luckily, the Empire’s guards caught them from time to time, and there were stories of merchants who had been kept in jail for over a month without food, withering away just like the people they had bullied! Oh, how she hoped those stories were true; people like them deserved to be brought to justice and punished!


“I could do it,†she mused idly, her mind filling with images. She saw the guard fall back to the ground, a look of shock in his eyes as an arrow pierced his throat; she saw the villager’s awed look, the gratefulness in his eyes as she helped him stand. Her right hand moved to her back slowly, her fingers tracing the contour of the bow strapped beneath her lute. She saw another guard, however, and she snapped back to reality; her hand left the wood as if she had been jolted, and she looked nervously around, hoping nobody had seen her. Relief flooded her as she failed to notice anyone looking at her suspiciously; it had been a close call. She sighed, twirling a few loose strands of hair around her finger anxiously as she tried to appear as inconspicuous as possible, staring at the ground. She was sure there were far too many guards for her to fight, but maybe she could still find out the reason behind this? It’d definitely help her think of a way to stop the abuse, at the very least, and there was always the possibility that this was all just a huge misunderstanding. She looked around once more, but the only people that seemed to fill the square were either workers or guards; an elderly man, standing near the sidelines, looked away as her eyes met his, coughing as he seemed to grow an interest for the patch of flowers growing at his feet. She couldn’t blame him; she also wanted to pretend the scene before her wasn’t real, but a small, stubborn part of her refused to let her do so. Still, maybe the man knew something, and she was sure that, at the very least, he could use a sympathetic ear.


She began to walk slowly towards the man, smiling reassuringly at him as she approached; yet his eyes widened, warning her away for some reason. Illyana stopped in her tracks, confused; she looked around once more, but she couldn’t see anyone paying attention to her. Shaking her head, she turned back towards the patch of flowers...only to find the man gone. Some of the plants had been trampled over; the elder had probably rushed away as soon as her back was turned. Before she could ponder it further, however, she felt a shiver run down her spine as the golden light within her stirred, reacting to something; she tried to stifle it, yet it seemed somehow eager to be called forth, resonating to something in the ambient. The air appeared to grow heavier for a moment, almost as if it had been overloaded with some sort of energy, before the earth began to shake, causing her to shriek lightly in surprise and fall backwards, crushing what was left of the small flowers. She winced as she heard the sound of wood impacting dirt echo within the resonating box of her lute; she hoped Lullaby hadn’t been damaged by the fall. The lute was fairly resilient, but she didn’t know how much punishment it could take without breaking, and really had no intention of testing it soon. As she rose, however, dusting off her robes with her hands, she was awed by the soft, inviting blue glow that seemed to fill the center of the square. Her feet moved forward almost unconsciously, her curiosity defeating her reason and carrying the young woman towards the gentle light.