Fantasy TOTTDLMTH Episode 3 (Completed)

[Celestial Speck]

Zariel

Hassan Nox I-Sen

Anthem County, Abandoned Church


​

"I won't justify any slaughters, swordmaiden."

The words that came from his mouth weren't something that was always there. Days ago, his answer might have been different, drowned out by desire aided by the confusion of his dream. But the facts now present changed, Hassan had time to think, to see life from a different angle. He was still loyal to Sertek, he would follow that man to hell and back, and that did not change, but that war...It would be a lie to say he knew what he fought for. Perhaps he wanted to fight for a world where people acknowledged him, a world where there would be no cruelty on the streets, but now...He can't say he regrets everything, Irelia won't force him to repent from a past that is already done, but if he finds peace, so be it. If he doesn't, so be it.

"Your companions fought well, I respected them to the best of my ability, but war wages on. They were the enemy, and so was I, there was nothing I could aside from burying them. Such is the price of war." He tsked under his breath- there was a reason why he preferred fighting on actual battlefields instead of towns such as those. But he just couldn't ignore Sertek's orders at the time, even if he had his own sense of honor, he was still blinded. "But if you want an answer that pleases you, then hear it: I was foolish, blinded by a young dream that took my hand in a path that confused and blinded me. While the bond I share with my companions is real, and while I could have perhaps joined another path- this is the one I took. I regret my young naivety...But, I'll walk this path I forged to myself. Anything else would be cowardice to those who died at the War!"

In a moment, Hassan thought and tried to conceptualize another future. One where he didn't even touch the blade, where he grew with acknowledgment from people that mattered, and not faces in the street that did no matter anymore. In that future, he would be holding hands with someone, perhaps. His blood running in someone else's veins, as he would smile at a flower field upon peaceful fields, in a world where war did not exist.

This was not this world, alas. Yet Sertek got so close to it...He almost envied him.

Hassan too, looked at Sertek as Irelia did, but he closed his eyes. "There is a chance he used me, using every tactic at his disposal to earn my loyalty, I won't deny that is a possibility my child self overlooked," He breathed those words out almost as if they were painful, like an invisible force grasping against his heart. "But I saw his eyes, swordmaiden. He truly loves the woman he married, and he truly cares for those he took under, in a way. Even if it is in this new light of his."

A breath escaped his lips, his voice trying its best to sound neutral. "Don't be so foolish to think that in this world, good and evil exist. Malice exists, just as love does as well. That manner of thought will blind you as it did me. Memories are temporary for immortals, but such mortal feelings are transcendent to all."

 

[Worthlessplebian]

Preston Saytzeff Pacer, Preston of Met Di Plurida
Mentions: Pilgrim59 Nessi ElenaIsCool Larry xAlter Remembrance Zariel
Location: Abandoned Church, Anthem County, Haven.

With the task completed, Preston threw one last glance at his patient. The feared maestro of dreams reduced to this, a humourous trick of fate. Thus the Conestoga began moving. Preston disliked vehicular transport such as this but confined himself to this necessity. He congregated with the others and stood stoically. A few times, Preston had caught a glimpse of Bisila as she both annoyed those around her and her glances towards him. The Arachnid remembers the Trickster quite well; his memory tells him that their last duet: he tried to shear her spine in two. The Lucky Devil survived by a hair's breadth. Now fate is punishing him with her piercing voice. "Bah," The spider grumbled as he forcefully opened the Conestoga's door.

He grabbed the top of the door frame, proceeding to hoist himself out of the driven vehicle. It was easy for him who trained his musculature from birth to do acrobatic feats. Shutting the door behind him, he climbed onto the roof. Preston had no intention of mimicking a hood ornament, so he rested flatly. His three spear limbs embracing him like a hug while tucking his arms behind his head. Spiders do not sleep. Preston does not sleep. His eyes stared blankly at the night sky, glazing. His metabolic activities slow to a crawl.

He thinks back to what the coterie has gained. Caenis, an old acquaintance, returns to their need. Angelica, harbinger, also returns from her wretched hole. Then they trailed off to Black Watch and Friedhelm. A singular part of Preston wishes to upend Friedhelm's life as he did theirs. However, the majority agree that he only did his job. The arachnid doctor wonders whether he would've done things differently. A few broken bones and a posteriorly dislocated shoulder would make them even.

"I wonder how Eryn is doing?"

Preston knew that his colleague is taking the brunt of it. He had sustained bodily damage that impaired his effectiveness totally. He requires a quick check-up. Except they've dillydallied for too long, Preston knows that Eryn is feeling useless; that would prevent him from wanting an examination. Why? Because he doesn't want to slow the party down. At least, that's what the arachnid thinks.

Briefly, Preston's consciousness flickered as the rush of pain struck him again. Reflexively, his metabolism sped up again to reach into his pocket. Standing up, Preston pulled out a bottle of Morphine with a concentration of 20 milligrams. Taken orally, must not exceed 120 milligrams daily. Unfortunately, Preston won't be able to do that. His own conscience and professionalism told him to savour the medication in the Conestoga. The supply is vast and varied, but not endless.

To Do: Remind my companions that they should not take medication frivolously. I won't tolerate them if they down antibiotics, my colleagues tell patients to do that enough already.

Before he could lie back down, Preston notices that they were approaching their destination. An abandoned church. How dreary.

The stranger, odd in appearance, disarmed his intents through words. They will not be enough. Preston leapt from the roof with frightening speed, landing wobbly. "Preston Saytzeff, of Met Di Plurida." He mouthed off as he went after Starkenberg. Inside, he found his companion illuminated by the rays of stray moonlight. Preston gazed at the Altar, his younger religious self would've prayed fervently to the Hylden Lord of Arachnids, Mortanius. His faith did falter in his later years, no thanks to those Aerilia worshippers.

"What a terrible thing is battle."

"A man said that battle is tolerable because of brotherhood. The presence of others alongside you is enough to get by. Sometimes, I wonder if it would've been easier if we fought our fights alone." Preston laments to Ódhran.

 

[Zariel]

──────────────────────────────────────
Irelia Sonan
──────────────────────────────────────
— The Dawnbringer —
​

Irelia dipped her head and crossed her arms when she was reminded that it was, in fact, Hassan who buried her sisters beneath their blades. The act was performed out of respect, to honour their brave sacrifice—a venerable deed by the Harbinger Irelia could not ignore. The Harbinger was right, they were opponents on the battlefield, death is inescapable, and he was an instrument used to conduct the Daemon Lord's madness.

Curious, how swords and daggers are blind, yet their creators see so much, Irelia pondered as food for thought.

"You misunderstood, I do not seek for an answer that 'pleases' me, but for an answer that is the absolute truth," Irelia replied calmly, closing her eyes while she articulated herself. "Nevertheless, I am satisfied with your response. Mortals are fallible, and I was beginning to worry If I was wrong about you... But you have reassured me, that I judged you rightly back then."

Irelia glared back at Hassan when he claimed that Sertek truly cherished his matrimonial bond with Sylvia. The Swordmaiden was doubtful, she would not be so quick to place a mite of faith in the Daemon Lord above others.

"We shall see about that... when the time comes, only then will the truth of his sincerity be unveiled," she said sceptically. "As it stands, I cannot forgive your lord, for he belied Sylvia. I cannot tolerate a dishonest man... In current times, honesty is an expensive gift, thus one should not expect it from cheap people." Irelia smiled subtly, with a hint of disdain. "Hmph... Someone once told me 'a lie may take care of the present, but it has no future.'"

The Dawnbringer contemplated The First Harbinger's final statement. She could not deny that there was truth to what he said. Where does one draw the line between good and evil? Irelia herself was no saint, contrary to being called an angel by many whenever she unleashed her radiance and spread her magnificent wings, she had her demons, and she had succumbed to their malice once.

Good and evil is not as simple as black and white, but is rather convoluted by manifold shades of grey, Irelia thought, staring at the blanket of snow paving the ground.

"... And what exactly do you know of love and malice? Throughout your life, all you have known is war and strife." Irelia stopped for a moment before turning her back to the Swordsman, not waiting for an answer. "...Ehh..." she let out a weary sigh, "It is late, and the day has been long. Pardon me for cutting this exchange short, but I wish to rest. We may continue this later, if that is what you desire, after some respite."

 

[Celestial Speck]

Zariel | Pilgrim59 | ElenaIsCool | Huntertabbysandshark3 | Remembrance | Nessi

Hassan Nox I-Sen

Anthem County, Abandoned Church


​

Letting out a small 'hmph' at her words, Hassan crossed his arms as he looked to the side. He was fine with cutting the conversation short, it would be a lie to say it wasn't wearing him down, even if they didn't trade blows with words or their bodies. Yet the assumption Irelia made on his character, causes an audible clack to be heard as his teeth pressed against one another, bitting down onto air as an attempt to not tell her something crude. While he was raised on the streets, and the spite for the Iris still lived in his heart, he still needed to keep this alliance going. But he couldn't just allow her to walk away with assumptions.

"And what do you know? What is your belief?" A rhetorical question, one that he didn't expect her to answer. As the Harbinger adjusted his two swords by his side, he didn't face Irelia as he walked. "Do what you wish, Swordmaiden. But I speak not of romance or simple-minded sins." There was a slight pause, his next words being considered carefully and slowly. He knew what he wanted to say, but to lack misunderstanding...

Hassan's feelings on love and malice were complex, something he didn't quite understand himself. He remembered what he said to Sertek; while simplistic and almost naive, he believed in what he said. He's seen many people during his stay in Dragonsreach and before he met the Daemon Lord, after all. People who were malicious and selfish, but not necessarily evil, moving forward with those things in their minds. People who loved and formed bonds, moving forward to protect something. The 'love' Irelia shared to Sylvia, the 'love' he shared to Sertek, the malice they let out; perhaps one could truly see things such as evil and malice as good and evil, but that was his personal belief, his personal 'distinction' between the two concepts.

But despite all of that, Hassan knows what he dreams of. Looking away from Irelia as he walked away, he audibly mumbled that last phrase.

"I speak of things that drive us forward and can change any man or woman. I speak of things that make me envy Sertek and the Angel of Verdan."

And like that, he walked away from the Swordmaiden, not sparing a glance as those words spoken from him repeated themselves on his mind. He knows he changed, in a way. Matured, perhaps? He couldn't tell. He's not sure if he'll change further in this journey, becoming more malicious or holding more love in his heart. Maybe his own vision will change, maybe it will not. There was still doubt lingering on his mind over many things, confusing him and making him think over his words. His loyalty and his bond, his past and his future...What he learned and what he wants.

None of that matters now, there's a duty to be done.

"Everyone!" Hassan called out to his fellow companions, the Harbingers. He wasn't going to call them by name- that'd be stupid, with a stranger around. "That's enough lingering about and speaking of faiths. We can speak to this man afterward, but we must check the church for supplies before deciding to rest. Stranger, if you wish to help us, you are more than welcome. If you have any information about our surroundings too, that'd be welcome. We are travellers, as we said before."

 

[Pilgrim59]

Sertek
Abandoned Church, Anthem County

Sylvia
Abandoned Church, Anthem County
Worthlessplebian Doctor Nope Huntertabbysandshark3 Remembrance ​

With the Imperial Armed Forces and the Black Watch hot on their heels, it was a natural for Sylvia to be wary around strangers. Even now, Senna's sudden appearance and that of Angelica's induction among the Harbingers only serve to put more on her troubled minds. Despite her wariness of the Harbingers, they shared the same purpose. She may have fought Sertek and his ilk before, testing her Solomon against Daemonshards and bleeding herself time and again, the solemn snow now paved a path for amends - should she concede to such a notion. The question that she must answer now was not who she always saw herself, but who she wants to be.

"I am Sylvia of Verdan, these are my companions... and associates." Sylvia replied, adhering to her principles, as she introduced the multitude behind her with a brief pause as she took a glance at the Harbingers.

"We are without a home, and are entrusted with a mission to clear our name. We will depart at dawn. You may share the fire with us, if your faith tolerates an Aerilian sanctuary." she announced to the mysterious All-Maker preacher.

Having concluded their brief introduction, Sylvia cleared the shabby doors to the vestibule. The lancer dipped her gloved fingers at the water font, brushing it up against her forehead as she entered the destitute church. Having made sure the interior was vacant, she gave a nonverbal notion for the Companions and the Harbingers to follow suit. Sylvia gave Sertek a brief glance, as the latter ventured forth into the sullied sanctuary. Sertek acknowledged what she wanted to say but did not, pulling two adequate pews together to form two make-shift beds as best he could, before gathering some wood for a fire.

Sylvia got back to the Conestoga, helping Eryn towards the church, before laying him down upon the pews with Sertek's help. With haste, Sertek did the same for Hershey. The Daemon Lord eyed Sylvia, before turning towards the others.

"I'll get a kettle going." Sertek remarked, as he began to boil some water. Sylvia remained silent.

"Sir Meeples. See what you can do about that hole in the roof. I'll return shortly." Sertek entrusted Galius with a task, before taking off. He gave Hassan and Irelia a brief look, as he went about his way. He now finally understood what Winter meant for some - a time to spend with family, a time of reconciliation.

Sertek made sure not to venture too far from the church, circling back and forth in his steps as he began plucking away at some reds and greens beneath the cold moon. Wild halysan herbs for tea, and aging orlyas as substitute sweeteners. Sertek took his time gathering to great effects. Once before had he conjured up a meal for the Companions, perhaps now was a chance for him to broker a truce among old enemies over tea. Sertek purposely made himself scarce, knowing Sylvia had much on her mind. The last thing he wanted was to trouble her. He knew how Sylvia was, and gave her the space she needed. Her forgiveness was far from his expectations, but is perhaps a challenge that he welcomed. With Hassan's teachings, perhaps he will come to understand the strength that Sylvia possessed. Now was his chance to fully comprehend and embed himself like a grozium upon a magitech blade. Sertek needed to understand his underlings, as persons, not tools.

Upon his return, Sertek mixed up the halysan and orlyas in the kettle. The ailing stench of grimy moss and bricks was replaced with a sweet aroma that permeated the entirety of the church. The Daemon Lord gathered the rinsed cups that we was able to salvage from behind the altar. For its currently dismal state, the church was mostly intact. The glories of the great oracle remained undefiled. Once a house of the holy spirit, laughter and praises were now waning shadows and eroded stones. Tattered banners upon greyed bricks. The Covenant between the Creator and Grozny sealed in the everlasting bastion of their splendor. Even enemies must now abide by the Aerilian grace that bound them.

Sertek offered Sylvia a cup, to which the latter simply settled it aside. Sertek simply smiled, as he went back to check on the others. They both knew that Sylvia could simply toss the cup against the ground. Instead, she displayed a modicum of restraint. Even now, the gift that she procured for him, resided between her bosoms. A cravat that reflected the color of their affections. Stiff as they were, the Hero and the Daemon Lord were still bound by ardency. Sylvia reasoned it to be a fault that she must solve by herself, while Sertek must gather his own will to adjust to their new life on the road. To adhere to changes was one thing, but to accept it as their new life, was another. Sertek kept his word to himself, as he approached Bisila.

"How's the tea? Not exactly a quality brew, considering the materials we have around us. But feedbacks are welcome." he asked the Whitewolf, while reviewing Preston's notes regarding Hershey's conditions.

Meanwhile, Sylvia eyed Preston, nonverbally gesturing him to step away for them to converse privately.

"Anything I can do for Eryn? I do not wish to push, but I'm sure Friedhelm will figure out our current location soon enough. Get yourself some forty-winks. I'll take the first watch." Sylvia said to Preston.

 

[Zariel]

──────────────────────────────────────
Irelia Sonan
──────────────────────────────────────
— The Dawnbringer —
​

Though she heard The First Harbinger call out to her, Irelia did not stop to answer. She was not entirely surprised by what he said, resorting to returning her question without offering his own response. After all, what could he possibly say? Perhaps in his current submissive state, the Daemon Lord may hold some concern for his Harbingers, but would Hassan truly be so naive to think he shared a loving bond with his master back during his prime? How ludicrous, the Daemon Lord has lived for thousands of years and waged many wars. The Swordman was just another instrument being played in a choir of conquest.

As she walked onwards, Irelia reflected on what love meant to her. Thoughts of mother nature and her sisters immediately sprung to mind. Irelia sincerely cherished each and every one of them. Her beautiful, stern, gentle, wise, and revered mother, Kaguya. The senior members of the order and her teachers, whose diligent guidance helped mould Irelia into the chivalrous protector she is today. Her closest friends, and fellow acolytes, that she stood side-by-side on dangerous missions, and were there to share in her moments of happiness, rejoice with her in celebration, and cry with her in times of sadness and pain. And of course, Irelia could never forget the joyous young neophytes. The children would train and play together from dawn until dusk, and then nestle in each other's company around the comforting warmth of a campfire while an elder recited ancient tales.

Alas, those peaceful times had been stripped away, and Irelia had long left it all behind.

Upon entering the derelict church, Irelia examined its wounded walls and shattered stained windows. It was unclear how long this place had been deserted, but the dilapidated state of its construction painted a clear picture of the events which must've unfolded here.

Another repercussion of war.

Irelia notices two of her comrades inside. She thought that now would be an appropriate time to get a load off her chest at this mournfully tranquil time.

As she walked towards them, her arachnid companion was drawn away to discuss some matter in private with their commander. Irelia would now need to wait before she could express her sincere apology. In the meantime, she approached the man left sitting on the pew and took a seat beside him, offering her company.

"Greetings, Ódhran," Irelia said warmly to the man. "It's been a while, dear friend... 'Tis a shame we must meet like this. I only would've wished our reunion to take place under the light of more blissful circumstances."

 

[Larry]

Ódhran von Starkenburg
Location: Abandoned Church, Anthem County, Haven.
Mood: Conflicted.
Mentions: Celestial Speck | Pilgrim59 .
Interactions: Zariel | Worthlessplebian .​

Ódhran was surprised to see his arachnidan companion sit in the pew next to him, but he was thankful for the thought. Preston's response to his own statement brought the islander's mood to the more immediate feeling amongst all the Iris Companions. His words were tinged, maybe overtly so, with remorse and sadness over the death of Laure, a person whom the whole group was extremely fond of. Given Preston's role in the Company, there was no doubt in Ódhran's mind that his colleague was relaying the events over in his mind, as to what he could have done in order to save Laure in the sewers. Perhaps the young man was projecting; maybe he just wanted to make it seem as though there were others in the group that were having doubts, or were examining the events of the last few hours, as he was. "I can understand why you'd think that Preston, moreso I understand how you'd feel that," Ódhran said with a hint of melancholy, his eyes looking downwards towards the marble flooring, "I suppose we were lucky in the course of the war that we lost nobody in the battle against the Sertek. So, to...lose Laure as we did, seems unfathomable." The young man was going to speak some more, only for him to see Preston pull away from the pew, needed as he was by Sylvia, who didn't want to interrupt their conversation too audibly. Ódhran smiled at his commander, giving a little wave as the duo turned to discuss something amongst themselves; he didn't want to be eavesdropping on matters that might be of a more sensitive nature.

It was only as he turned to face the alter that he felt the motion of another person sit next to him in the pew.

Turning to face them, Ódhran found it to be Irelia, the Swordmaiden herself.

"It's good to see you Irelia," he said, his countenance relaxing at the sight of his companion, "In all the furore, I wasn't able to get a word in as to how you were doing." Though it was more than likely obvious to everybody there present, though the enmity between Sylvia and Sertek was something that persons on both sides could feel, the antipathy between Irelia and Hassan was, though not entirely dictated by the order of prophecy as the former pair, every bit as intense and full of loathing. Such was the close proximity of the duo that, in the Conestoga, it seemed as though it might have all combusted into a flurry of swords striking against one another should the journey have continued for any stretch longer. As everybody was decamping into the church from the wagon, Ódhran could hear titbits of the conversation that had been struck up between them, somewhat spontaneously; they found themselves discussing themes of Hassan's actions in Jianki, that subsequently led Irelia to become a warrior of such calibre that she, in a poetic sense, showed a likewise clemency to him at the Battle of Mount Hornet. Not only this, but, becoming civilly-animated, the pair disputed the idea of love, particularly the feelings of Hassan towards his erstwhile master. It was only natural for persons like them, with such a shared history of tragedy and battlefield-engagements, to have much to talk about. Whether it was in a spirit of seeking to understand one to the other or in a spiteful way, it was very much up to them. It might have been more than a bit strange, verging on the rude, to lean in and hear what else they might have said at the time, but Ódhran found the sayings and thoughts of two, timocratic warriors fascinating.

And yet, the only thing truly mattered to Ódhran was that his colleague was spared at least some damage, in her fight with Friedhelm and the Black Watch.

"You had much to discuss with the First Harbinger," he noted, the moonlight glinting against his now very-smudged lenses, "Nobody in their wildest dreams would have thought our working together to ever be in the stars, yet, to the Creator, all things seem possible."

The islander noticed the the collection of minute debris that coalesced all around the lenses of his glasses; thusly removing them, he fetched for the micro-fibre cloth in his shirt pocket; stadial in shape, light-blue in colour, emblazoned with the name of the optometrist who issued it, namely Agilofing. Ódhran went to work, delicately cleaning the lenses as he glanced at Irelia out of the corner of his eye.

"Aside from...what has happened in the last while, I trust you've been doing well?"

 

[xAlter]

Caenis Vasilias Koimamai
Location: Abandoned Church - Anthem County, Haven
Interactions:
Mentions: Remembrance Pilgrim59 Larry Zariel Celestial Speck

Caenis entered the church alone, mindful of anyone or anything. His mind simply wandered as he took a look around. The wood was clearly rotting, the stone crumbling, and the hole in the roof was plain to see. Debris laid strewn around the floor as if a tornado had come into the building and sent it flying everywhere. The priest surely had some work to do to make the church a functioning house of worship again. It wouldn't be an easy task, and it would be even more difficult to garner followers for the faith. Regardless of it not being the most hospitable of choices to rest, it would have to do. After all, while everyone else was on the run from the Black Watch, Caenis was also on the run from himself. Finding a pew near the northern end of the church, Caenis wiped away any snow or debris that sat where he himself was going to sit.

Taking a seat, Caenis leaned forward and closed his eyes, muttering a quick prayer to himself, asking for Laia to stay safe. His adopted mother was a strong woman, she could take care of herself. She wouldn’t have the Black Watch at her doors, and for all intents and purposes, she was a mother who had lost her son to the Demon Lord during the war. Sometimes he missed his simple life of just trying to survive, living on the streets. Finishing his prayer, Caenis rummaged around in his bag for something to do. Finding bland ration bars, he quickly tore a pack open and began to eat the dry, tasteless biscuits.

Conversations sprang up around him, as he observed the members of the two groups. Their allegiances were clear to all those who were present. Iris and Harbinger, lovers or enemies, it mattered not to him. His allegiance was to Sertek, but even now, who was Sertek? His eyes trailed to where he and Sylvia sat, discussing something over tea. They were talking about Eryn and Hershey, both allies in a sense, yet one was still an enemy. Hershey was… in a state he did not like. She was his only contact into Harbinger matters and now she was like this. She had kept him updated on things going on within their ranks, and it had helped. Now though, it hurt him to look at her still form.

Discarding the half-eaten ration to a space next to him, Caenis took out his notebook and pen again, and once more, he began to write. Not entirely absorbed into his own hobby, he eavesdropped on Odhran, Preston, and Irelia. The swordswoman and Hassan had history, and it seemed Odhran unknowingly shared his own opinion on the Iris and Harbinger alliance. Their alliance was something Caenis swore he would never see by the time he died. Two factions, so polar opposite in their goals, joining against a common foe. Hearing a tearing noise, Caenis looked down to see he had torn the paper he was writing on. Ripping the sheet from the notebook, he discarded the page. Surely it wasn’t a sign.

Once more blocking out the world around him, Caenis went back to his writing on a fresh page. He’d have to somehow speak to Hassan about their, his, next course of action. It seemed Hassan had taken up more of the leadership role after Sertek left the spot vacant. His reveal would surely fragment the fragile pact the two groups had created, but living this lie when his friends, his family, were right next to him, was one of the hardest things he had to do.

 

[Nessi]

Angelica Mori
Location: Abandon Church, Anthem County
Interactions: xAlter
​

Angelica was surprised when Sertek claimed that he didn't know Angelica at all, it had been some time since they had last seen each other, but the Sertek she knew was close to most of his harbingers and knew them by name. Moreover, as she studied her master closer, she noticed that he was very different, from his eyes to his lack of horns and general demeanor. Was this truly Sertek? or an imposter for the late demon lord. Thankfully, Angelica wasn't given a lot of time to speculate before Hassan begun to explain to her what had happened since they were separated, and why the harbingers were teamed up with the Iris company.

Hassan explained to her everything she needed to know, from Sertek's amnesia to the organization that hunted both iris and harbinger, causing them to temporarily team up in order to deal with the threat at hand. Angelica genuinely never thought that both harbingers could think with their brains instead of simply fighting each other out of instinct, but she was proven wrong, seems like she was wrong about a lot of things recently. She opened her mouth to ask Hassan more questions, but it seemed as if his attention was taken elsewhere by Irelia the dawnbringer, one of the few people to have actually defeated Hassan in combat.

Angelica was quiet for most of the ride towards the abandon church, and when they arrived she was absolutely disgusted by the thought of even stepping foot in the filthy insides of the church. "Whatever, a roof is a roof, this is just temporary anyways." She muttered as she entered the building. She had no real interest in the so called priest of the church, rather, she was much more interested in catching up with her colleagues, but before she went to the person she had in mind, She shot a glance towards Hershey, who was in a coma according to Hassan, a consequence of the fight in Dragonsreach. "Don't give up Hershey, you'll pull through this, just like with everything else." Angelica said softly before continuing to walk.

Angelica found herself walking towards an old friend, one she knew all too well, Caenis Vasilias Koimamai, a spy like her, only less seductive and less fun. She set herself down next to him, she could see that on his face he was deep in thought, something was bothering him and he wasn't saying anything. She put her hand on his to get his attention, and spoke softly as to not alert anyone to Caenis's true identity.
"It has been quite some time since we've last spoken to each other, It's good to see that your okay...well, better than some." Angelica sighed, glancing over to Hershey before turning back to Caenis. "Something is bothering you, what's the matter?" She asked.

 

[Worthlessplebian]

Preston Saytzeff Pacer, Preston of Met Di Plurida
Mentions: Larry Zariel Pilgrim59 xAlter Doctor Nope Huntertabbysandshark3
Location: Abandoned Church, Anthem County, Haven.

Preston sat in the wooden pew, uncomfortably. Preston had never attended an Aerilian church such as this before, so it drew his interest and ire. Interest in the sculpted structure, elegantly reformed. A pity that such a place fell to the wayside. The ire was the seating; he could not imagine gatherings of faith to be pleasant. Perhaps, that was the point. Ódhran spoke to the arachnid, expressing his sympathy and empathy. A quick sigh before a quick reply. "... We never lost anybody this close, Ódhran... The rapture of serenity after the War also stung." Pressing his faceplate into his right hand. Before Preston could speak again, he was called away by Sylvia. "We'll catch up later. You are owed a cup of tea from me." With parting words, Preston wandered over to Sylvia.

Preston wondered wherever his wolven companion went off to?

Face to Face with his commander: The Spider was ready and willing to receive her words. As always. She asked what she could do for Eryn. Preston disgruntled. "I fear there isn't a lot that you could do... Perhaps, monitor his medication intake? I'll begin the examination on him as soon as he's willing, then we can decide on a proper treatment course." Cupping his chin, the Doctor thought. "If surgery is needed, I might require an extra pair of hands. However, I'll inform you if it comes to that."

"Yes, Friedhelm is crafty and... Driven too. Don't worry, we should be long gone by then." He spouted his reassuring words. Before he entirely faded from earshot. "Oh, don't worry about my sleep, I'm used to long nights!" Referring to the surgeries that were hours long. Also, the fact that he didn't properly sleep like them.

He walked past Ódhran and Irelia, shooting a nod before firing a string of web towards the roof. Climbing up the rope was easy, sticking to the ceiling had been awkward. Why? He had to rebalance himself on only three of his spear limbs. It has been a long time since he needed to regrow even one limb. The repair of the hole could use a second hand. "This will take a few hours."

 

[Huntertabbysandshark3]

Sir Galious Meeples

theme song to listen to for the raven
interaction: Pilgrim59 Worthlessplebian​

Galious blissful tinkering had been interrupted by Sertek the demon lord asking him to try and deal with the hole in the roof of the church a menial task though one the golemancer didn’t sneer at for clearly he was the only person capable of the task, the others would probably not have the foggiest idea of what they were doing and thusly Galious was instead rather proud to fulfill such a task. “very well then” Galious gave a small nod as Sertek left.

walking his way over to the floor beneath the hole Galious looked up the perpetual cheerful expression still upon his face but one of subtle thought. There was no way he’d be able to actually get up their by himself and the sentinel was far too heavy to safely traverse the roof. but no problem was to hard to solve with the liberal application of golemancy and ingenuity. Of course, he lacked anything usable for a larger construct but a smaller one could be made for this task and it would be all that was required. Galious gathered some nearby stones and broken brickwork, it was a small pile but would do perfectly, concentrating on the small pile of masonry it would begin to glow a bluish color quickly assembling itself into a small 1-foot tall construct composed mostly of the rubble and crackling arcs of aetherial energies that held it together. It was crude it was dumb it would fall apaet easily but it would do, unfortunately Galious had not noticed preston Already on the roof so focused on his own machinations that he’d ignored looking up. commanding the tiny construct to walk out of the of the church and wander its way to the back of the church and trying to climb its way up the side of the building the arcane tethers pulling it up the side to the roof.. only for something to spot the shiny little thing.. a large raven that had made its roost upon the old church’s structure.

the angry avian cawed aggressively at the tiny shiny thing intent on grabbing it shininess. Hopping it’s way towards the construct it would pull at one of the stones that made up the construct, tugging it to the flailing of the golem only to find that once ripped form the creature it had lost its shininess, disappointment filled the birds turning back to try again it was struck In the beak bu the construct dazing it momentarily only to then lundgr at the construsts torso intent on ripping it out. It managed to miss however getting grabbed buy the neck reacting with frenzied cawing it would take to the air intent on shaking off the shiny thing. As it did manage to rather swiftly the construct grip being very weak landing with a thump on the roof the raven was sufficiently happy it had killed the thing laying morionless upon the slate, it would land again to pick out its prize, the shiniest stone that encompased the golems head plucking it with ease it flew away content with its victory.

down below in the church galious was half internally screaming half externally.. why couldnt it have just gone normally oh well looking up finally hed see Preston on the roof the spider probably would have been a better choice come to think of it.... but of course the task was giving to galious for his superior knowledge.... right? “You spiderman.. I assume your attempting to seal the hole also. if you can get some webbing over the interior damage I should be able to move a few lose tiles to cover the rest of it form the outside and we should be able to at least weather proof the place for the time being”

 

[Zariel]

──────────────────────────────────────
Irelia Sonan
──────────────────────────────────────
— The Dawnbringer —
​

"I survive," Irelia responded to Ódhran, crossing her arms while moving one leg over the other. "I do not wish to lie, adjusting to the normalities of mundane life in Dragonsreach has often left me jaded. One could say it is something akin to homesickness. The people, the culture and traditions, everyday life, and the very atmosphere itself differs vastly from what I was accustomed to, prior to being reeled into the war of yesteryear. Old habits die hard, I suppose..." Irelia sighed. "I'll admit, without the likes of you or the other Companions here, to offer some solace, I question whether someone like me could ever fit in a place like Venelia... Perhaps, if things were different, I may have returned to the Oeki."

Irelia's eyes wandered over towards the front of the room where Senna was seated. Her eyebrow quirked when the white-haired fox lady, supposedly aligned with the Harbingers, approached her comrade and sat beside him. She appeared to have said something to Senna, but it was impossible to make out what as she spoke in a soft whisper.

Hmm...? What does that vixen want with Senna? Irelia pondered. I should make a note to ask our Quartermaster at a more convenient time, in private.

For now, Irelia dismissed her misgivings. She turned her head, giving Ódhran her attention once more.

"Going back to what you said earlier... The First Harbinger and I are both seeds stemming from the same soil, yet we were cultivated in two completely different environments. As such, our minds don't see eye to eye... but our spirits seemingly do... Eh, apologies, it is just some useless musings. I do not expect you to understand the esoteric principles practised by Jianki bladers."

Irelia concentrated on a spot on the ground in front, taking a moment to reflect.

"Whenever our paths crossed, I'd look into his eyes of polished amber, and couldn't help but feel as though it was preordained by fate," Irelia divulged.

Some moments later, Preston walked by and Irelia returned a gesture. The latter still remembered the days she was wary of their specialist surgeon, though her initial circumspection was largely due to the type of Astrian Preston was—Arachnida. As time passed, Irelia gradually lessened the distance she kept from the spider-man, after she came to acknowledge his unrivalled talents, and courage for not fearing to provide his area of expertise even on the field of battle.

A particular memory of their past partnership remained crystal clear in her mind, even to this day—there was a time when Irelia lacked the will to face her fears, but after receiving unexpected inspiration from Preston, she obtained the ardour to rise against the odds. The two were on a mission, tasked with escorting a group of retreating troops through a cavern to reach the camp on the other side, where the critically injured could be treated. Irelia herself was in bad shape, her robes dyed with intricate patterns of red by her own ichor. When she looked into the cavern, the darkness laughed at her. A horde of Sertek's underlings was hot on their trail, but Irelia was in no condition to fight, let alone face them all. She was on the verge of giving up, yet, Preston was resolute. Despite hearing the howls of the Daemon Lord's forces less than a league away, the arachnid was determined to see these soldiers live to fight another day. He gathered his words and spoke words of encouragement to the ceding Swordmaiden—not something she'd ever think to hear from someone like Preston. There was light at the end of this tunnel, and Irelia was the sentinel that must protect it, whatever the cost... she was the only one that could. In a torrent of reignited determination, Irelia drew her blade that blazed with passion and, at that moment, innovated a new powerful technique. She created her own miniature sun out of aether, a spurious replica of the original celestial body that sits on its throne in the centre of the collection of planets that eternally worship it. The false sun's light banished the darkness, and showered Irelia with a golden glow. As her strength came back to her, Irelia made her stand, facing off against her opponents while she stalled for Preston to safely get every single one of the injured soldiers across to the camp. Ever since, Irelia has felt beholden to Preston and has warmed up to him greatly.

Reminiscing this point in her life made her think—what if Preston had also been slain by the horrific abomination that lurked in the Sewers? The same monster that slew Laure...

Irelia shook her head, not wanting to dwell on a possible tragedy that did not occur.

"I must commend you, Ódhran," she said abruptly to the man beside her. "I presume it has been some time since your hand has been forced. Though your combat prowess may not be up to par with some of us, you did not let that dissuade you from confronting that monster that took Laure from us. You stood your ground and protected those you hold dear... and... and where was I...?"

Irelia's entire body became tense. The more she thought about the nightmare her comrades faced, the more useless she felt. If only she were there... if only she could have done something.

 

[Larry]

Ódhran von Starkenburg
Location: Abandoned Church, Anthem County, Haven.
Mood: Pondering.
Mentions: Worthlessplebian | Huntertabbysandshark3 | Doctor Nope .
Interactions: Zariel .​

"There's very little doubt about that Irelia," he confirmed, a nervous laugh being evoked out of the young man, "To say that the day escalated from being an innocuous visit to see Saoirse couldn't be more apt." And that, partially, is another reason for worry in Ódhran's mind. Even though he would like to trust Friedhelm in this situation, given their correspondence over the course of the war as to the activities of Iris Company, the sheer amount of resources that the Black Watch deployed he in order to capture himself, Sylvia and Preston at the latter's clinic, the islander wasn't too sure. If his family were to be accosted over his involvement, whether it be Saoirse in Dragonsreach, or the rest of his family on Aran, Ódhran would be beside himself with guilt. Even in his best efforts to ease the appearance of such doubts, they naturally manifested themselves whenever he had a moment to himself, frustratingly so, to the young islander. The world had been violently upended in the span of a few hours. But it was the Companions as a whole that also found their lives turned upside down; Ódhran doubted Preston would ever have found himself repairing the roof of an abandoned Aerilian church alongside a golemancy-using Harbinger. Nor would Sylvia, the Sygis herself, ever thought to find herself married to the very thing she sought to destroy, enjoined as it was upon her by the dictates of the divine.

The Companions only had one another for comfort, in a world so turned against them.

It was only after Irelia had said the closing part of her commendation that Ódhran noted a visible shift in her demeanour. That Irelia's warrior honour, tempered and forged as it was by the loss of her family in Jianki, not wishing to see her surrogate family end up them same way, was no doubt raging within her at Laure's death, and at the fact that she couldn't have done anything to affect it otherwise. She wasn't the only one however, to wrestle with such feelings. Even though he had thought up of a plan, alongside Eryn, to try and strike the creature at its hinge joints so as to encumber it, their collective efforts were useless; even now, Eryn was temporarily out of commission, health-wise and in terms of ammunition. The islander felt in no small way responsible for the Gunslinger's current state, only becoming conscious of the fact that he requested Eryn's help in a situation where he had barely survived a Black Watch entrapment, which had depleted his resources even further by the time he had rendezvoused with the rest of them. What Ódhran felt was something of a similar type to Irelia's own dejection but the crucial thing was that the former might have been able to make better use of himself in the battle against the Vulture: there was no way for Irelia to remedy the situation where she had been.

The young islander's visage took on a stern but clement disposition seeing his comrade in such a state of mind. Ódhran had to make sure that such feelings were dispelled as quickly as possible, not only for the sake of the functionality of the group, but also for Irelia's own mental state.

The sight of his proud, stalwart companion doubting herself was hard for the young man to look at it.

"Irelia..." he began, his voice talking on a soft but firm intonation that he often used with his siblings, "There was nothing you could have possibly done. Friedhelm had you pinned where you were, the only viable course of action was to stand your grand. If you had managed to get away, there might have been a good chance that the Black Watch could have happened upon us in the sewers. In that case, given our exhaustion, there would have been no escaping them."

It was only as the act had been committed that he realised what he had done. Being the eldest of five siblings and thusly being turned to for dispute resolution as the wont is of siblings to get frazzled and fight with each other, after having addressed their gripes with one another and asking them to make peace, Ódhran often rustled their hair wildly for a few moments, a big smile on his face knowing that they had stopped fighting with each other. The islander, almost on instinct, placed his hand on Irelia's head, though without the vociferous movement he often showed in times gone by.

"Even in our grieving for Laure, as sad as I am, and as we all are," he said, "I'm thankful that you, Irelia, alongside all the others, are still here with me. Laure, in her final moments, would no doubt have felt glad to know that nobody else had been killed in that battle. Let us not use our fallen friend's death to rue what we could have done, but rather to ensure that we honour her memory as a member of the Iris Company."

He looked across at the forlorn figure of the Swordmaiden, a muted smile forming on his lips.

"I'm so thankful you're alive Irelia," Ódhran said, the shuffling activity within the church a distant concern, in this quiet moment between two friends.

 

[Funnier President]

Location: The woods, Abandoned Church
Mood: “There’s a spider on the roof!”

This situation sucked. Maybe not the most creative thought or whatever, but she wasn’t in the mood. First of all, she was on the run for who knows what. Black Watch showed up, shit got fucked up and one of them potentially had gotten their arm melted. Would claiming self- defense hold up in court? Didn’t matter anyways. After all, she didn't plan on getting caught if she could help it. Which would probably be a bit difficult. She "ran"(more like power walked) her way, taking a breather where she could. A few cuts and bruises decorated her skin also, but they weren't to much of a bother. Just very fucking annoying.

Maybe time to strategize or something. First, probably find somewhere to hide. It wasn’t like she had a map, but she was 76% sure there was an old church somewhere in the area. East/West, if she remembered correctly. That could serve temporary for now. Think about things in the short run, before freaking out about challenges in the long run. Second, just pray no more weird shit happened. Simple!

Maybe she should've started thinking about things in the long run. First of all, she had no food or practically any supplies, which was to be expected when you get ambushed at your house, narrowly escape with your life, and have to run the fuck away. Also, there was the fact that she would probably faint/get corrupted if she tried to use any magic, so defending options were somewhere near the lovely value of zero. And for a dramatic finale, maybe the church didn't exist and she would be walking around pointlessly, lost. Maybe just ignore the long run for now. Way to negative, and zero positive. So, she limped ahead to whatever fate laid out of her.

And that's when she saw the church. And her fellow Iris companion, Preston, sitting ontop of its roof, fixing a hole in it? And with a frog buddy. Rubbing her eyes, she just simply stared at the pair on the roof before pinching herself, just to double-check if life was an illusion now. Nope, still a spider doctor and a frog on a church roof. Normally, this could lead into many horrible jokes, but she was more worried bout what exactly Preston was doing here. After all, last she saw him, he seemed fine. Which was.... a month? Two? Honestly, she didn't see much of her fellow companions at Dragonsreach. But, might as well deal with this.

Cupping her hands infront of her face, she called out in the loudest voice she could. Which, was a bit scratchy. Having no water for hours did that to you.

"Normally, this is where I would make some sort of a joke, but Preston, what the heck are you doing fixing old church roofs? And what's with the frog dude? Is he your assistant or something?"

Honestly, her voice was far louder than she intended. Probably reaching inside the church.

But maybe she could get some info on what was happening.

Interactions: Huntertabbysandshark3 , Worthlessplebian

​

 

[Remembrance]

Location: Abandoned Church, three pews away from the altar
Mood: Pleased​

Eliam stood in the snow, his feet growing colder by the minute. He could endure it; worse winters have occurred in the past and yet he still breathes. Past the woman and her group, he spotted a man bearing wolf-like ears. A wulfen, he thought. Strange creatures, they were, populating haphazardly across Grozny. Eliam bore no bias nor prejudice against those people, they were as similar to him as any other, not to mention how it would go against the creed of the All-Maker to deny one of a different race. The patriarch locked eyes with him for but a moment before refocusing his attention on the group in front of him. The patriarch stood tall over the lizard creature, tilting his head in perplexion as he awaited a greeting if any. It introduced itself as Sir Meeples. Fancy itself a knight, Eliam briefly thought before his internal dialogue was halted by the lizard's disgraceful blasphemy.

The patriarch withheld the anger he felt. A lowly... thing such as that declaring it can kill the one who had made it; sparked nothing but rage within his heart. His surrogate hands balled into a fist and though they could course the wrath that plagued him, it was the best he could do without engaging the party. As the reptilian lizard crept away, Eliam turned his head to view him, to get a sense of what he had to deal with.

Centering his focus back to the party, the woman who stood before him introduced herself as Sylvia of Verdan. The mention of her so-called associates tipped Eliam off that they likely had some form of bad blood between them. The stench of ill-will perverted the land as he drew to this conclusion, it reminded him of his time as a mercenary though he's repressed much of those. She stated that they were without a home and are part of a mission that was entrusted to them. They offered Eliam the opportunity to share the fire if his faith could tolerate a house of a different god. The Church and those who followed it had some form of tension between those of a differing creed. Engagements of all sorts have happened in the past; him having participated in many. To say they didn't get violent would be an understatement. Eliam could not care less if these people spoke to another god but should they preach it above the All-Maker and engage in uncivil discourse; he would not be able to stop whatever acts he may commit towards them.

As Sylvia left to go to the church, Eliam responded as best as he could to her proposition. "I would be pleased to share the fire with you and your party though do not expect me to be fond of Aerilia."

As the conclave of warriors and others entered the church, Eliam's rage intensified for a lack of not paying it due attention. The blasphemy uttered by that lowly creature pained his mind. "It is one thing to forgive a slap across the cheek or a minor transgression, but an insult to the Maker requires... no, it demands correction." He muttered under his breath.

Eliam entered the holy site, surveying the insides for damages and making mental notes as he did. The appearance of the chapel was worse on the inside, and he could not deny that seeing a house of Aerilia be in ruin didn't bring pleasure to his heart. The patriarch walked with care, avoiding the rubble of the fallen roof and destroyed pews. He strode across the center lane, approaching the altar's front. Since the night had drawn over them, he was due a prayer to the All-Maker. Eliam prostrated himself, entering a sort of child's pose, landing on his knees and laying his forehead against the floor. He prayed to the All-Maker, the one who had made all and protected His creations through the eternal battle. The patriarch called upon his God to bring protection to the travelers with whom he would board and for Him to forgive them for not doing as Eliam does. He raised his back and assumed an upright position before lowing his forehead back to the ground. He repeated this 13 more times to pay tribute to the 13 Acolytes.

Finished, he stands tall, hoping he had done his best to assist the Maker in His battle. Looking up, Eliam saw the scaly being repairing the roof and though the patriarch could commend it for such a wonderful act, he still had not yet forgiven it. Seeing the other companions engaging in discourse, he decided to forsake himself the company and occupy a pew a few lanes down from the altar. Eliam's power waned as he took a seat, his grainy arms, while functional and helpful, were putting a strain on his body. He released the dirt from his hold, watching it crumble apart into two piles next to him. Similarly, he loosened his muscles, no longer requiring them to hold up a pound of detritus.

He looked up to the makeshift roof, a tinge of sadness following him as he quite enjoyed viewing the night sky. No matter, he thought before closing his eyes and deciding to rest for a bit to regain his energy.

 

[Pilgrim59]

Sylvia
Abandoned Church, Anthem County
Worthlessplebian Funnier President ​

While she had many things she wanted to broker forth to a close associate, the hero had chosen to keep her words beneath her lungs. She stomached such contemplations, lending her strength where needed. The Company was mostly shaken up, to say the least, if their worn visages were not evident enough of that fact. The only other time she saw such crippled morale was that of their muddy campaign in Onyx Valley. Even now, she shuddered at such thoughts, letting Preston abide by their time with the roof detail. Despite having not ushered forth such details, the woman knew that it was his way of keeping busy. While their nociception may have been numb to the cold front that is sweeping across Anthem, the Companions mind were still trapped in the chaos of combat. The bitter misery that ailed them was once a sweet taste of triumph. There was a time when all good men and women came to rally beneath a tattered banner.

As she stands here, beneath the roof of the indigent church, it reminded her of Verdan. A gray city under siege, where troopers made haste to the blinding light that surrounded the adolescent girl. Ever since then, the sight of Aerilian chapels only serve to be a place of respite for the weary hero. Verdan, Sealow Heights, Saika, Amavyr, Al-Kufra, and then Kaen. Time and again, ruined sanctuaries seem to be the common locale for the hero to reflect on herself. Even now, she wondered if she was truly a religious person to begin with. Sylvia scorn only herself, respecting the power that resides in the starry skies. After all, the Solomon Edge was not hers to use. Rather, it was a gift bestowed upon her by a higher power that she concluded was the mastermind behind her glee and grief. Yet, twenty years upon this world, and she has yet to see a death celebrated by the angels of the sacred scriptures. There was nothing glorious about a warrior's death, as they find themselves covered in mud and drowning in their own ditch full of rats and deceased corpses. That is mostly the case, if said corpses were not already serving as replenishment materials for the necromancers. Of all the foes she had slain throughout her lost childhood, never once did she took a gander at the sacred scriptures. A negligent hero, viewing herself as a mere instrument. Perhaps that was her downfall, a sinful soldier in guise of a hero.

There thoughts dissipated, as Sylvia made time to exit the church. She gave the concealed Conestoga a brief glance before going on her designated patrol. The cold storm served their purposes. In this weather, Fort Vesta would not sortie the night ravens. Even then, it was in Sylvia's nature to be cautious lest the unexpected prove fatal. Perhaps the frigid snow upon the hero's skin could cool down this burning feeling inside of her. Neither struck with ailments nor stranger to Haven's winter, but rather an inflammation of the soul.

As she paced herself around, she noticed a trail of footprints in the snow. The individual was calling out for Preston with a familiar voice and demeanor. Sylvia brushed forward.

"I never thought I would see you again, my friend. Hurry yourself inside." Sylvia greeted them, surprised to see another Companion. It seemed as if Aerilia had guided Kazan to her steps. Without a doubt, the woman acknowledged the powers that governed over their fate.

Sylvia led the mage inside, catching them up to the Harbingers and Iris Company's current state of affairs by the fire. Scattered emotions as she recalled the events, as she did with Senna. Surely, they were on the precipice of another journey - not too soon from their last. She avoided mentioning Laure, for the wounds of her lost were still unsewn.

"...And that is our mission. You may share this fire with us and be on your way or join us on this arduous journey to bring these phantoms to light. Ultimately, I will not lose another Companion. What say you, Kaz?" Sylvia gave the Kazan the same ultimatum she did with the others.

 

[Worthlessplebian]

Preston Saytzeff Pacer, Preston of Met Di Plurida
Mentions: Pilgrim59 Funnier President Huntertabbysandshark3
Location: Abandoned Church, Anthem County, Haven.

As Preston began to sew the hole shut, a Harbinger approached. It was the little reptilian, the one despised by Preston due to his naturality. Giant spiders ate lizards. But he dropped the indignation, did not have the energy for it. "If I must." He shoots out globules of webbing at where the lizard wanted. Preston paused to take in the absurdity of his situation. Fixing rooves with long-termed enemies. This will not be the lowest point in his adventure. Fate promises more twist and turns before the curtain calls. Preston was snapped out of his automated working by another familiar voice.

Peeking over the side of the roof, Preston spotted the woman. It was Kazan, Iris' artillery mage. A smirk formed on Preston's mouth when Kazan called the lizard his assistant. "I'll meet you down there in a moment!" He yelled. A web-line was stuck to the roof then, Preston bent his knees. Jumping off with impressive force, the web-line continued to elongate. Then Preston clutched his hand, stopping the flow of webbing. It yanked him back towards the wall of the Church where Kazan was. Unfurling his three spear-limbs, Preston stopped his descent. He flipped off the wall, landing wobbly in front of Kazan. A side effect of his drug intake and painful situation.

"Kazan, it is you. Isn't it?" Still unsure and paranoid about newcomers, Preston kept his distance but remained welcoming. "It is a long story, my fiery friend... Where do I--" He was cut off when Sylvia exited the church to greet Kazan and bring her inside.

------

Inside, Preston confirmed Sylvia's story. "Yes, that is what occurred. In truth, we're recovering at this stage. I doubt we can take down Friedhelm and his goon squad, let alone an enigmatic entity which seems to be almost burrowed deep within the Empire." A disgruntled sigh.

 

[xAlter]

Caenis Vasilias Koimamai
Location: Abandoned Church - Anthem County, Haven
Interactions: Nessi Zariel
Mentions: Pilgrim59

Caenis, so absorbed in his own thoughts, did not hear the signs of Angelica Mori walking over to him. He did not hear her whispers to Hershey, nor her footsteps. Only when she sat down next to him did his ears twitch at the creaking of the wooden pew. A soft hand was placed upon his own and a familiar scent filled his nose. With an almost relieved sigh, Caenis snapped his book shut with a flick of his wrist and sat it down on his thigh. Turning to the old friend next to him, Caenis let a small smile across his features.

Taking in the sight of his fellow Lupo and Harbinger, Caenis lifted his head. “Ange,” he said softly, a whisper in the quiet church. “Time certainly hasn’t done you any harm.” Turning to look at the rest of the church to see if anyone noticed, his eye caught that of Irelia. The Swordmaiden seemed to want to question him, maybe now, or maybe later. Giving a disarming smile, he gave a small wave. He would deal with her later, as he already had an excuse in mind. Opening his mouth, he silently said “Everything is okay.”

Turning back to Angelica, his smile dropped and his shoulders sagged. There was a lot on his mind, and it mostly had to be with the circumstances surrounding everything. “When I left years ago,” he started slowly, his voice barely above a whisper. “I expected for me to return home in a body bag,” he admitted. When he had left for his mission years ago, he had one objective: infiltrate the IRC and wait for further commands. If needed, he was to attempt to kill Sylvia, and if he could not, he would destroy as much of the IRC as possible. “I had left on a suicide mission, and I never once believed I would see any of you again with my own eye again.”

Taking a deep breath, Caenis continued on. “And what felt like such a short time period after I had gone under, after I had left, I learned of Sertek’s death, I awaited a call, a signal, anything that would let me fulfill the role I was to play in our war.” Turning, Caenis focused on Sertek’s face. “I was prepared to give my life for his cause, for our cause, for him. Yet that never came. I was ordered to remain as I was and wait, bide my time until it was necessary to act. It ate away at me and began to hollow me out. I wanted to so desperately avenge our fallen comrades, our brothers and sisters who could no longer see the light of tomorrow.”

“And then the IRC is disavowed, sent on the run. We were forced to flee, lest we be hunted down, slaughtered like prey before hunters. I ran and ran, hoping to maybe run back to the Harbingers, my family, but it is where I find my family I find things I thought would never occur. Sertek, our lord, our leader, married to the one who had slain him as well as the people I have been deceiving. I find that Hershey is in a coma, that everything I knew has been turned upside down, and I am surrounded by my comrades, my brothers and sisters, and I cannot reveal myself. It is hard living a lie… when all I want to do is return from this nightmare.”

Taking his hand and placing it atop Angelica’s, Caenis leaned back where he sat and let out a sigh. His mind has already caught up with his words, the weight of what has transpired between friends made it hard for him to breathe. “Forgive me.” he softly intones. “I hadn’t realized how much this was weighing on me until now. I guess I needed to let it out and my usual method wasn't enough.” he said, tapping his notebook. Caenis just let the presence of the Harbingers around him be his comfort.

 

[Huntertabbysandshark3]

Sir Galious Meeples
interaction: Worthlessplebian mentions: Remembrance Funnier President​

“I know you rather not be working with one such as myself, I share the sentiment“ galious commented taking note of the arachnids swift but tired agreement to Galious’s request for assistance. The somewhat damaged golem upon the roof shifted loose sheets of slate into position with Preston attaching and sealing them with globs of webbing the process was surprisingly quick with the pair working together admittedly in a begrudging fashion. By the time they‘d finished Galious was feeling rather smug and proud about the whole thing the golem crumbling back to rubble as the aethereal bonds that held it together dissipated. A large goofy sort of grin forming upon the astarians face maybe this wouldn’t be too bad?

the mood was almost instantly destroyed by the arrival of another of Iris companies members. Or at least there voice ringing out. Expression dropping to one of anger though such was muted by the fact that Galious face was incapable of anything but those pouty sort adorableness. THEY CALLED HIM A FROG THEY HAD THE GAUL TO CALL THE GREAT DRAGON SIR GALIOUS MEEPLES A FROG OF ALL THINGS. The diminutive salamandrian ego being of prestigious size was just as easily bruised but this was more like it had been body-slammed into the ground repeatedly. “RIGHT WHO THE FUCK CALLED ME A FROG I WILL RIP YOUR EYES OUT BECAUSE AT THIS POINT THEY MUST BE REALLY FUCKING BROKEN!” galious rage was obvious unable to hold his tongue expletives and threats spewing fourth form the squeaking voice of Galious was seemed unable to properly convey the rage he was feeling right now. Yet he was unable to immediately spot the culprit of such a grievous Insult as the perpetrator had been dragged away before she’d ever come into Galious’s view and thusly saved from his ineffective wraith.

kicking a stone upon the ground the Tiny cross astarian stormed off back to the little area he’d his own giving that now armless preacher fellow a death glare as he passed, you could never trust a holy man.. for their gods always followed them... he’d return to his sentinel only to find something else had taken residence upon its shoulder. A large jet back raven the mark upon the avian's neck made by Galious‘s golem it was the damn bloody bird having somehow gotten inside to get out of the snowfall. Staring at Galious it cawed a challenge daring its reptilian foe to approach. ”what the, ok this is ridiculous who or what sent you bird ANSWER ME” galious barked at the raven thoroughly convinced it wasn’t just a raven but the hereld of some deity that felt the need to toy with him more directly now that he was in a holy site. His suspicions landed squarely on whatever this all-maker was after all hed only recently made a direct threat to them this raven was clearly the deity's way of making it know that it would continue to toy with him. despite this, the only answer he received was another caw. “Fine then be like that now bugger off and tell whoever your master is I’ll smite them eventually YOU DONT MESS WITH ME AND GET AWAY WITH IT” galious replied aggressively shaking his hands and approaching this was enough for the raven to fly off its perch and land on a windowsill just above Galious’s head continuing to caw at him before settling down. Galious once again glared at the preacher… their god had seemingly followed them and had found its favorite plaything.. him. This was going to be a long night and just one of undefined number of them, because of course if anything like this were to happen it would happen to him.

 

[Zariel]

──────────────────────────────────────
Irelia Sonan
──────────────────────────────────────
— The Dawnbringer —
​

A subtle sigh passed from behind Irelia's gentle lips, which curved into a smile after she paid heed to Ódhran's consoling words.

"Such sanguine attitude, I'm not surprised, it is certainly characteristic of you. Perhaps, optimism like yours is exactly what the Company needs to revitalise our depreciating morale. I have always considered it a blessing to have the likes of you amidst our ranks. Syliva seems to have a knack for recruiting extraordinary individuals. Even in these treacherous times, where our own ilk have turned against us, levelling their knives to our backs, you, Ódhran, do not fail to see the light in the darkness... Friedhelm will answer for his aspersion—fear not the backstabber, we shall forever remain one step ahead... 'tis the reason they lurk behind us..." Irelia said, looking up at the starry sky through the open wound in the roof.

From her lap, Irelia planted both her hands on either side of her, and she leaned back slightly, reclining in her seat.

"I digress," she spoke. "Thank you, Ódhran, your tender words have brought One solace. I shall remember this."

Surprisingly, Irelia now felt partially at ease. It would seem that perchance, Irelia's conversation with the Islander provided her with a modicum of much-needed respite. She let her eyes gaze upon the moon that hung with elegance in the firmament. Despite embodying the spirit of the sun, Irelia could not deny the beauty of the moon, for she was mesmerised by its pale blue gleam.

While she admired the white orb's glow, Irelia remembered something. Before being afflicted by the current tribulation, she had promised her sister - Yevnai - an answer. After centuries, Tsukuyomi, one of the three legendary blades, had selected a new wielder. A young Oeki acolyte by the name of Akeno, the orphaned daughter of a martyred swordmaiden. Tsukuyomi had been missing since its former wielder died, only recently, following countless expeditions to find it, did the Oeki retrieve the katana from a desolate mountainous chasm. Yevnai had hoped Irelia would return to Jianki and provide the young prodigy with some guidance. Though under current circumstances, the chances of that were now slim. Rumours spread quick, and news reaches the Oeki even quicker—as an Oeki saying goes, 'The trees have ears'. It was likely that Yevnai had already caught wind of Irelia's predicament. Hopefully, the newly imposed decree against the Iris Company served as a proxy to deliver the answer Yevnai seeks.

The outcome is unfortunate, but Irelia currently has more serious matters at the forefront of her mind.

The farcical sight before her had her both confused and worried. Harbingers and Iris in an unfathomable coalition. It was beyond belief, even in Irelia's wildest dreams. Need she be reminded how the Harbingers were once her sworn enemies. They were the upper echelon of the Daemon Lord's army. Each of them an unparalleled weapon of fear and destruction. There was once a time when entire armies would tremble whenever one of them stepped foot onto the battlefield. Yet here they were, fraternizing with Iris.

Irelia recalled the words mouthed to her from Senna earlier. How could the Quartermaster appear so nonchalant in such close proximity with a Harbinger? Could it be that Senna and the vixen share a history akin to the one which Irelia herself shares with the First Harbinger? Her curiosity piqued.

"Say, Ódhran, what do you think of the Harbingers?" she asked after a period of silence. "They are Daemon Lord's deadliest apostles. Have you ever been cursed with the misfortune to have encountered one of them?"

 

[Funnier President]

Kazan Hi
Interactions: Pilgrim59 , Worthlessplebian
Mood: "Wow. Just, Wow. And seriously???”

As she spoke, Preston peeked his head over the roof, calling out that the would be down in a minute. Eh, she could wait a bit.. And hold the fuck up, where his his limb go???????? She spied that fact that he was missing a limb as Prestn went down. Well, his spear-limb, but how the heck did he lose it? She was pretty sure that it wasn't like snake skin, but you never know.

And as Preston landed infront of her, she gave him little wave as he asked if it was her.

"Yup, its me. What, were you expecting back-up on Church duty or whatever you were doing?

Her eyebrows were very raised as Preston said it was a long story. Probably was. After all, you don't just hang out on a church roof with your frog buddy, while missing a limb, and looking terrible as fuck- seriously, was he drunk?

And then Sylvia teleported out of nowhere, interrupting her thoughts on whether her companion was drunk. Jumping up what definitely felt like a foot. she turned around her find her (technically former) commander behind her. And never thought she would see Kazan again.... did they know she nearly got captured? Were they waiting for her or something? As these thoughts ran through her head, she dismissed them. After all, Preston could have easily caught her if he wanted to....

So, seeing no better option, she trudged along with Sylvia inside the church, hoping for something that might resemble answers.

/----------------\

That was way to many answers. Sitting by the fire with Sylvia and Preston, she reeled from the events that had happened with the rest of the Iris company. She only mad occasional comments, asking them to clarify something. But for the most part, she was silent, absorbing everything that had happened.

A lot had definitely happened- honestly, she was surprised not one of them had died or gotten captured. Well, did Vik count? And damn.... Ra'el being Sertek? The one who Sylvia was supposed to cut into tiny pieces was probably cutting her heart instead. I mean, who could live with their dearly beloved actually being their worst enemy. And the frog was a Harbringer? But he was so freaking adorable!

Honestly, she didn’t exactly know how to feel about this. On one hand, she had at least gotten the answers that she wanted. But…. She wasn’t exactly happy about having to go on the run, even when she had no choice. That’s what troubled her about this. Like, say your closest friends got arrested for…. Some reason, and you were sentenced also, even though all you did was…. Well, nothing.

And yet, even if she refused Sylvias offer to join the Iris/Harbringer squad, she didn’t know shit about what to do. She didn’t exactly have a way out, so joining up with her fellow fugitives to hunt some phantom entities seemed the best (and only) option. Didn’t mean she had to 100% approve. And not lose another Companion…. What exactly did Sylvia mean by that?

“Did you guys ever count me out for a second? I mean, this is an average Tuesday for us! Except with a whole lot of little complications. Count me in, 100%!”

Leaving her thoughts unvoiced, she turned to Preston.

“Hey, can you check up on a few scratches I got? Not really worried bout them, but not exactly in the mood to die to some infection that’s unpronounceable.”

Rolling up her sleeves, she showed the Preston the various cuts on her arms. None of them were particularly deep, but they still stung somewhat.

Hopefully, she would be fine now- after all, no more weird shit….. right?

​

 

[Larry]

Ódhran von Starkenburg
Location: Abandoned Church, Anthem County, Haven.
Mood: Sombrely reflecting.
Mentions: Celestial Speck | Huntertabbysandshark3 | xAlter | Funnier President (indirectly).
Interactions: Zariel .​

Irelia's heart-felt words struck Ódhran in an emotional way that he wouldn't have experienced before. To be considered by such a formidable warrior as being a 'pleasure' to be in their camp, and described as an aid to their wearied morale, caused something of a flush to blanket the young man's face. During the war, even though he was notoriously scrupulous in ensuring that everything was sorted, often in conjunction with Caennis in his capacity as quartermaster, for the more proactive members of the group, it confirmed to Ódhran that he was appreciated by the Company, in degrees he felt were only fantasy, in years gone by. Yet, it was the utterance of such words that caused the young man to inwardly curse this...'bitterness' that had developed through the course of that tumultuous day in Dragonsreach. To think that my compa - no, my friends, had been thinking of me in such fond terms, while I secretly accused them of dragging me into a situation so completely beyond their control, he reflected angrily, wishing earnestly that he be allowed some time to beat himself for ever harbouring such thoughts. But it was in this fit of mental wrangling that Ódhran felt a new ambition borne out; one not mired about by selfish concern for his own situation, but one centred on ensuring the collective wellbeing of the group.

Affection, renewed affection, was to be his principle from now on.

"I appreciate your words Irelia, in ways you wouldn't begin to know, "he stuttered out, not wishing to meet his colleague gaze, lest his blush or emotions heighten even more.

It was then as Ódhran was about to formulate his thoughts as regards to Irelia's question, that an abrupt bout of shrill screaming cut across his attention. The islander's eyes glanced towards the ceiling and, knowing that Preston's wasn't able to reach such a pitch, he then deduced easily enough that it had to be the golemancer, or Galious, as he was led to believe the Harbinger's name was. The medic's reticence was something that Ódhran took into account, so it definitely wasn't something he said that seemed to ignite such anger in the Harbinger, so it must have been from someone else; whoever it was, it seems, was not something that Galious was too worried about, from a security standpoint. Hearing "ALRIGHT, WHO THE FUCK CALLED ME A FROG" might have set Ódhran off into convulsions on any other occasion, but the mood around the church, as well amongst the hybrid group of Iris and Harbingers, didn't allow for much merriment. Regardless, Ódhran had to stifle a giggle at the Salamderian's outburst. And yet, his reaction might owe to the general perception of the Company's sworn enemies he possessed and indeed, it fed into Irelia's question.

"In all honesty Irelia, and your anger towards me would be fully warranted," he began, deliberating slowly on what array of words ought to come next, "That in our years together fighting the Harbingers, throughout all those numerous battles, culminating at Mount Hornet, I never felt too strong a sense of antipathy or hatred towards them. Of course, we were at war with them, so there was always going to be inkling of a feeling there, otherwise I would have been branded a dissenter. But something that overshadowed my feelings towards the enemy at the time would have been my feelings towards Dragonsreach; in my eyes, back then, they were the reason I was at war, not the Harbingers. Whatever about the fuzzy logic of that statement, my then-feelings were firm. I think I was too fixated on ensuring that Friedhelm was kept abreast of our activities and ensuring that everybody was well co-ordinated, that I never gave it much thought."

He paused for a moment.

"Even now, as they stand before me, they arouse not so much as hatred, but rather pity. And from your discussion with Hassan, as bound as you are to possess righteous hatred for him, I can imagine such sentiments, looking at them in their current state, might have flittered across your periphery as well."

 

[Worthlessplebian]

Preston Saytzeff Pacer, Preston of Met Di Plurida
Mentions: Pilgrim59 Funnier President Zariel Larry xAlter
Location: Abandoned Church, Anthem County, Haven.

The Spider, normally, would be relieved to hear a companion's excitement at joining a dangerous crusade. During the War, when Preston heard that he'd be accompanied on one of the dangerous recons—or worse, assassination operations—it relieved him that he would no longer have to worry for his safety too much. But the troublesome worm that burrows around in his conscious conscience makes trusting others difficult. A paranoidal form of disturbance as the arachnid fearfully watched over his shoulder. A blade in the back, or this case: a fireball.

"Little? Hardly the word I'd use." Preston expressed his chagrin.

Preston felt an incessant itch on the back of his neck. Maybe, he shouldn't have said it so mean-spirited. She was only trying to lighten the mood.

He was prompted to examine some scratches that Kazan received recently. Preston extended his hand to grasp the underneath of her arm, albeit hesitated mid-motion. As if he was practising medical precautions. But he mustered up the courage to at least gently hold the forearm, expertly avoiding any additional unseen cut. His eight eyes ran up her arms, analysing them with experience and an eye for detail. There weren't any of the usual signs of infection such as inflammation, pus, etc etc.

"Rinse the cuts with water, clean around them with soap—should be easy, their width isn't extraordinary. Since you're here, you won't need to use any strong antiseptics so just cover it with one of the sterile, dressings. Add some pressure, not too much. Then I'll check with you again if any complication arises. Also, there might be an antibiotic ointment in the Conestoga, IF there isn't, you could apply some raw honey. Just don't lick the honey, as tempting as it is."

He turns around to head deeper into the Church but spins back around on his heel. "Oh, if you're wondering why honey: It's because Honey is a good antibacterial substance."

A quick stroll to the centre of the pew. He could not help but overhear Ódhran's and Irelia's conversation about their feelings towards the Harbingers. Professionalism tells him to stifle his thoughts, he does not want to intervene. But he will tell them this. "Good night, Ódhran-" Then a nod towards Irelia. "Irelia"

The Spider found the nearest pillar, leaping to it. His three arms hugged it tightly, his soles gripped tighter. "If you need me, shout!" His yell made it sure that anybody within earshot would hear him.

 

[Pilgrim59]

Sertek
Abandoned Church, Anthem County

Sylvia
Abandoned Church, Anthem County
Mentioned: Worthlessplebian Funnier President Huntertabbysandshark3 ​

While Sylvia certainly did not expect anything else but Kazan's commitment, she cannot help but feel heavy for another soul aboard their fugitive vessel. Perhaps it was for the best that they should stick to one another for survival in these turbulent times. Sylvia was curious when Kazan mentioned "Tuesday" as if it was something she would understand. While the term was foreign to her ears, Sylvia nevertheless made some sense of Kazan's words. Perhaps such a term was coined from her homeland, but the hero has yet to hear such a word until now. Ultimately, Sylvia was grateful when Kazan said her piece. She simply nodded and patted Kazan on her shoulder with an acknowledging look. Sylvia would leave Kazan to Preston's care, and sashayed past the Harbingers and Sertek.

Metaled hands guided her path in the dark, as Sylvia dispatched herself towards the sanctuary in search of answers. Answers to reassure herself of their cause. While she may not be of tranquil mind, the hero ackowledged the Aerilian divinations. The very same ones that brought her and the Company through many battles. Some faces were here still, others were now residing within Aerilian eternity. Her friend and mentor, she had to believe, was now in a place far from the worries of this wixked world. Where are the shining stars that lit their dark path once?

She found herself in solitude, as she ran her fingers by the dusty altar. Despite their improvised efforts to patch up the hole in the ceiling, the night was as cold as their Long March upon Mount Hornet. She felt like a prisoner now, residing within a sacred house where guilts and regrets spiraled around her. Her Solomon remained quiet, its invigorating hum and reticent strength neglected by the hero's deafened ears to optimism and valor. Sylvia's eyes shifted, studying the blemished grounds behind the barricaded stairs. The fallen Aerilian crest emerged from the rubbles, as the hero restored it to the altar. Her ears rang, a severe spike in heart rate, accompanied by her frozen state. Her head began pouding her in like Imperial artillery upon Tsaritsyn. She moaned softly to herself, as images flashed her by. Foreign scenes that she could not make sense of. Voices ran her by, as bright rays cast upon her delicate, pale skin. A victim of a forlorn treatment. Among the faces that surrounded her there, in that peculiar trance, was a pair of crimson eyes that greeted her. Their lips moved, but their voice had been drowned out by the deafening ring. She could only make sense of the last word that they ushered.

"Sister." Sylvia repeated the word to herself.

The image faded, as Sylvia found herself snapping the Aerilian crest in half with her bare hands. She eyed the altar briefly, before ejecting herself from the sanctuary in confusion. She was met by Sertek, of whom had come rushing to her aid.

"What ails you? Are you alright?"

Sylvia did not answer. Never had she found herself so distant from her companions. A certain sense of self-indulged misery, as she saw it as such, crept over her. Perhaps this was her time in solitude to find the Aerilian grace that she needed. Sylvia, however, saw it as her obligated moment to dwell on her past actions and reflected on what they had gained and lost. An almost monotonous act akin to an quartermastet doing inventory. But rather than checking off equipment, Sylvia was sorting through a pile of pending emotions awaiting a resolution. While the answer was simple enough, she took an alternate route of venting all those frustrations and decided to cope with them all at the same time.

Sylvia dragged herself towards the Conestoga, ransacking the back of the wagon for medical supplies. She briefly glossed over the contents, pondering upon her thoughts. The white tube containing salista pills laid out in her palms. Never had she thought of it, but perhaps it was time to test her threshold. What would her companions think of her, should she abandon her own principles and gave in to substances now? It mattered little in the grander schemes of this life. All she felt was pain and anger. Destructive emotions attached itself to her like draconic flames upon flesh. Like the young windcaller on Wyvern Beach, she felt his pain now coarsing throughout her. Laure's voices echoing across the church where her non-existent presence cursed the hero with dark sentiments. Sentiments of helplessness before the Reaper. Her hands trembled, but not from the cold. Her visage drenched in sweats wear the scorching Marethian sun was absent. She had denied help long before, and she would not ask for one now. Not when she had asked of her company to indulge in a quest not of their choosing. This was a battle she had to fight alone. This was inconsequential in their ultimate journey, she contemplated. A complicated creature of little faith, she only ever asked Aerilia not for forgiveness of her past discretions, but for what she was about to do. Even then, she had little reasons to be a hero when the Empire had little needs for one at the moment.

She cracked one with her teeth, and leaned back against the wagon wheel. The frigid snow had dissipated, and the dark woods began to sway. Her head tugged back and forth, as her senses began to fade. She could not feel anything else but her heart accelerating. Before long, the thumping of her racing heart was drowned out by the gentle lift of her body. She finally understood now, where she had always stand in opposition to such prescriptions. All those time she had relied on her strength to push through the pain were of her own doing. Never had she felt so empty. This state that she was in, absent of feeling or emotions, was not far from the countless bottles that she had downed before. Rather than indulging herself in social leisure before, this was of her own particular choice to dispel her inner guilts. Where others found their deliverance in church, Sylvia found her own method of deliverance from her lack of faith. A small lozenge of salista could do so much for a troubled heart now than what her belief ever could. One truth dawned on her right there and then - she was no longer the hero. She reasoned to herself that the Fourth Sygis had perished on Mount Hornet long before. Aerilia did not save Laure, no matter how hard she begged. Such silence angered her, and she would not waste her time on understanding a deity that neglected her prayers.

Eventually, the effects would subside with haste, thanks to Sertek's tea. Irritations plagued her, tempting Sylvia to reach for another tablet. Before she could consume it, a hand reached out and halted her desperations.

"What are you doing?! Stop!" Sertek caught Sylvia in her lowest state.

"Unhand me!" she retaliated with a fistful of rage aimed at Sertek's face. Her gauntlet muffled at the behest of Sertek's iron gloves.

"I can't bear to see you like this! This is unlike you!" Sertek said, grabbing a hold of her hands.

"What do you know of me? Do you think our pillow talks are anything but false memories?" Sylvia shook him off.

"You're wrong. I know you as you are, and not as you see yourself. This melancholic façade isn't yours to wear! Those aggrieved pain isn't yours to bear alone! You are more than that!"

"I spent half my life fighting you and your zealots. The Rael I knew is dead and you killed him!" her face soured, her temple wrinkled with contempt.

"Sylvia!" her opposition finally sounded, slamming his hand against the Conestoga and boxed Sylvia in.

"Get a grip of yourself. I know Laure's death took a toll on you. But what you're doing isn't honoring her death!" he added.

"You hold that tongue!"

"No. This tragic state of yours is unbecoming of the Angel of Verdan!"

"There is no Angel, Sertek! Haven't you realized that by now? We are just tools. Tools to be used and discarded by the world."

"Perhaps we are. But even tools serve a purpose. Would you forsake the strength lent unto you by Laure and the others now when the rest are dependent on you? It matters not to me, for I still believe in the pact of matrimony that we shared. Even if the world stands against you, I have as much right as any to right the wrongs done to you." he retorted with a heated voice.

"Laure..." Sylvia's eyes widened.

"Laure is dead, you hear me? She's dead! But you made it out! You are alive! Live for her! Live for everyone else that are still here!"

"No. I... cannot accept that fact."

"You have to. It's not your fault. Hey. Listen to the sound of my voice. It is not your fault, you hear?"

"It's not your fault." he said, this time with a firmer tone.

"Shut up." she retorted, slightly annoyed.

"It's not your fault." he repeated.

"Shut up!" Sylvia finally roared, shoving Sertek into the snow, as she tried to choke him.

"It's not your fault! Let it out!" he repeated, as Sylvia's grips began to wane.

Sylvia relinquished her strength, giving in to her repressed tears that were unshed by her adrenaline. She finally cried, where she could not once. Sertek's arms surrounded the vulnerable hero, as he pulled her into his arms and caressed her hair. Her tears flowed, tainting Sertek's shirt with salted emotions that she had been haboring these past few years. The cries faded as the two let the snowy soil blanketed them, washing away the hero's sentimental outbursts and vigilance. Sertek on the other hand, said little as he caught the hero in his arms with his might. He reserved his words and let Sylvia cried her heart out.

Before long, the two resided beneath the pine trees. Sylvia on one end of it, and Sertek facing the opposite end. They spoke nothing, letting the storm settle their differences.

"So who is this Hasting you often yelled out in the middle of the night?" Sertek broke the silence as the storm finally passed. Sylvia remained quiet. "Another time then." Sertek added, but not before Sylvia finally raised her voice on the other side of their shared winter tree.

"After securing Wyvern Beach and setting up a forwards headquarters shortly after, Marshal Bukanan assigned the Company to assist in securing the surrounding areas before pushing onto the Sector Brimstone. We split up, to cover as much grounds as possible. A Degrake unit that preceded us, some two miles beyond the woods inland, was taking heavy fire from the clearing. Reports sightings of a Harbinger in the area reached, and we were on our way. There was a young man from Chambois, who has yet to see his twentieth winter. Eyes as clear as the Ortolan Sea, and hair unkempt as his worn out Anprac. He was a windcaller that I picked up for the detail. They called him Hastings. A face so nervous and true, despite the mud on his greyed attires." Sylvia recalled, as her eyes cast upon the howling forest. Her crimson eyes grew distant, as if she was reliving that very moment. "The Degrakes had suffered heavy casualties, but managed to somehow secured their footing by the time we caught up to them. Tattered sleeves, ashen soil and wailing bodies scattered our path. A sight that no sane writer would paint on a page." She drew a sharp breath.

"Having broken through the Fireblazers and Dievan Guards, we came into contact with Xan, the Necromancer. We engaged, my Solomon against their Skullbreaker. Their lines receded quickly, thanks to Hasting and the Drakensreiter on station. It was an in-depth defense lure that I should have foreseen, weren't it not for my impetuous decision to give chase. By the time we secured the clearing, Xan's minions began to rise from the ground beneath us, ones that were carefully placed some time before our amphibious landing. Surrounded on all sides, I exhausted Hastings with various fire-missions. While we had achieved air-superiority, the dense forest gave our Drakensreiter a hard time to navigate without risk of friendly fire. The undead converged upon our position, tearing through our perimeter gradually. Down to a mere rifle platoon and a sapper section, I had Hastings narrowing our critically danger-close calls." Her eyes veered off towards the distant cloudy sky.

"I could hear the Drakensreiter making low-passes above us. With the piling corpses and foliage disrupting their direct line of sight, they had to rely on Hasting's calls. Before he could redirect the squadron, the wyverns had already made their fifth run. He tried to wave them off, but his rifle-grenade was out-of-commission. The next thing I remember was a sea of flames all around us. Flesh intertwined with steel, and muffled cries beneath their airless helmets." she fiddled with her gauntlet, as if the grimy texture of dried blood and ash were retained since.

"Some gave in to the shock and passed. Others had to don the blazing cloak of caustic wounds long after. Hastings crawled towards my feet, begging me to save him. Eventually, Laure had brought reinforcements with her and relieved us of our situation." she turned to her side.

"And Hastings?" Sertek did the same, genuinely curious of Hasting's fate.

"I had to do it. He was in so much pain." she finally replied with a quiet tone.

"It wasn't your fault. You did what you could." he added.

"If I did, then why do I still feel guilty?! Hastings, Pola, Friedhelm's sister, Bukanan, Rugan and Laure. Their faces haunt me every time I close my eyes. I could have done something."

"Guilt can be a good thing. It is the soul's call to actions. The indication that some things need to be righted. Until amends are made, the guilts that you bear signifies that your work is not yet done. This is proof of your humanity, and that in itself, should be more than enough a reason to be stronger." he reasoned, perhaps to himself as much as he meant to direct those words to Sylvia's comfort. As much as she disliked what he stood for, there some pleasant reassurance coming from him. While she might have wanted to keep her distance with the man, she only realized it now that they both shared the same goal. Perhaps it would be best to let time rewind their case and shed some light on where they stand. But for now, Sylvia must answer to her obligations, and compartmentalize Laure's passing appropriately.

"The irony of hearing this from a Daemon Lord. I'm certain of only our sufferings." Sylvia scoffed.

"Nothing is certain in this world but death. Perhaps a need to cuddle in a storm as fugitives, of that I am certain." he subtly remarked. Sylvia took his words to heart.

"Try that again, and I'll make sure you and your garden hose end up in separation." she threatened monotonously.

"That would certainly be detrimental to most men. But it is inconsequential, for I simply thrive on your slightest touch and presence." Sertek chuckled softly.

"Do you get off on this kind of thing?" Sylvia sighed.

"Wouldn't you like to know? Ultimately, seeing you smile fulfills this ex-Daemon Lord's heart. I am still a man above all else. A year ago, we met beneath a cold night such as this. How odd it is to relive a memory." he reached out to the sky with his hand.

"A mere coincidence. Think nothing of it, Sertek." she dissuaded him of those parallel memories.

"Perhaps it is by chance. But of all the possibilities, here we are beneath the hidden stars." Sertek finalized, as Sylvia remained quiet. While she had her our distaste of the Daemon Lord, there were some curious truths to his words. The man brushed himself off from the snowy soil and turned to his right.

"Where are you going?" she asked.

"Back to the Church. I'm sure the others will come looking if we don't."

"Belay those steps. I wouldn't want you to influence and corrupt my Companions. You are my prisoner out here." she reasoned, withholding certain sentiments that she would rather keep unspoken.

"Oh? Are you asking me to stay?" Sertek smirked with a certain confident flair. For a brief moment that they locked eyes, Sylvia could still see Rael in the man before her.

"Think nothing of it. I merely wish to keep you in isolation." she shook her head, convincing herself otherwise.

"As you say, sugarcone." he replied, with a light chuckle. It irked her, but she did not protest.

"You had your inquiries. If we are going to cooperate, I need answers from you as well." Sylvia proposed.

"You only need to ask. Despite what I am now, much of my memories are sealed. Know that certain things may remain a mystery to us both. But fire away." he shrugged, procuring a place to sit across from Sylvia.

"Very well. We'll start with the little things. Your golemancer, his stature seems unnatural." Sylvia crossed her thighs, and folded her arms.

"Sir Meeples? Truth be told, I suspect there is more to his story since Saarema. He is most gifted with golems and artificial constructs. For that, despite his stature, he is a valuable Harbinger. So says my instinct." Sertek looked up to the sky and jogged through his finite memory as best he could.

"So it seems. I have seen his works when we raided those Fireblazer factories on Saarema."

"Yes. All attributed to him."

"I see. Now it is your turn to ask."

"That pyromancer. I have yet to see her before." Sertek remarked.

"Kazan Hi joined sometime prior to Onyx. There are many Companions in retirement throughout Grozny since our return from Saarema. It seems that Kazan was keeping to herself in Dragonsreach. During our campaign on Saarema, Kazan crossed blade with your Glacier."

"Glacier... My memories are a bit hazy. You mean the one with the glowing blue eyes and an ice pillar as their weapon?"

"The Frozen Obelisk, yes. That one."

"I see. Well, Ms. Hi certainly knows how to make an entrance at Frostvale. From what I remember, Glacier broke their armor there, thanks to Ms. Hi's flames. To this day, I have no idea what Glacier looks like beneath their armor. Perhaps Hershey will shed some light, when she come to. I wonder if Glacier is still alive."

"Aye. All the more reason for us to be cautious. I do not wish for any of my retired Companions to be in harm's way. They should be able to live out their remaining days in peace." Sylvia concluded.

"I concur. Now, your turn."

"The dreamweaver. Our records during the war named her as Hersa of Authie. An accomplished psychology prodigy turned bad apple. Why Hershey?" she inquired.

"It is... Hm. I can't recall why I called her that, but the name stuck for a while since Verdan. Some sort of internal acknowledgment, I reckon." Sertek replied, hesitant to answer as he scratched his head slightly.

"I see... Now..." Sylvia grasped her chin.

The two continued to trade trivias and recounted their memories of the war. Inadvertently, Sylvia was able to keep her mind busy as to not resort to substance abuse as she did recently. While she did not voice those thoughts, she was thankful for Sertek's intervention. For Sertek, he was willing to be the contradiction she needed. An agent of conflict to usher forth the hero's folded sentiments.

 

[Celestial Speck]

Mentions:

Pilgrim59 | Zariel | Larry

Hassan Nox I-Sen

Anthem County, Abandoned Church


​

Hassan would sooner admit that his search for any supplies in the church was foolish than admit he needed it to get his mind off of things. Even after the discussion he had with Irelia, it was enough to cause stress to form on his mind, even more, stress without logic or reason to it. It was as if after his brain slowly realized there was nothing to do, no missions or such things, that stress finally decided to make itself known to him. The swordsman cursed under his breath, mostly because right now he knew he should rest and save his energies, and even though his eyes felt heavy, his mind didn't allow for him to go to sleep, whispering of things he should think about once, twice, thrice, all until he is forced to do something. It was a terrible habit, one he had a feeling those from the war shared.

His little escapade didn't take him far from the church at all, his body soon finding rest as he leaned back upon the old and decrepit walls outside, feeling the cold wind of the night and the smell of grass enter his nostrils. Here, away from the pollution of light Dragonsreach had, he could look upwards and see stars shining their full light. He wasn't very smart, nor did he do a lot of research on why that happens, always dismissing it as nature stepping further away from the realm of civilization and what have you, but the distraction they provided on these nights always was welcomed.

Closing his eyes as he held his blades closer, he wondered what tomorrow would bring. Even though he accepted the reality of the situation at hand, his mind still screamed at him to do something about it all. Sertek placed his trust upon him, as his second in command, after all. It only felt natural to think about it, to do something about Sylvia. About the tense air. About the marriage. About Irelia. About the Companions. About Sertek. About his death.

He opened his eyes again. No. Definitely not that thought.

"...Damn it, I should be sleeping... haaaah..."

Damn it, what is happening? All he did through this entire journey was think about the past and cry about Sertek's death. And even when he felt like he made peace with it, another aspect of it came to haunt his mind again and again. And now with everything that's happening... it feels like a cycle, trying to silently make peace with everything only to second guess himself. At this point, he just feels confused and irrationally stressed.

He really is afraid that at some point he'll snap and scream irrational things. He wanted to before, after all, principally when he saw Sylvia again. But he doesn't want to seem like he was incapable. The Harbingers had a reputation to keep, even if his loyalty went beyond such things at this point. He had a reputation to keep, even if he allows himself to be honest. After all, the First Harbinger, screaming and talking about his 'emotions', made him chuckle just thinking about it. What was he, a teen...?

You aren't. Stop thinking about just the past. Think about tomorrow instead, and how you'll survive it. What you want for it.

After a moment of silence, Hassan allowed a deep breath to escape his mouth, as he fully sat down and closed his eyes. Right. Tomorrow. He isn't sure what it'll bring, but it'll probably be dangerous. He closed his eyes and tried to think of his allies, and what tomorrow could bring with them.

He thought about Irelia, knowing that her hatred for Sertek ran deep, but she still respected him and claimed he was a good man. Why? The details of their conversation came to his mind, as he tried to go past his reasoning on why Sertek wasn't evil- but she claimed he only knew of war and violence. So why did she say those words...? Did she take pity on him? The way she looked at him was enough to make his head spin. Hatred? Respect? Pity? Maybe all three. Maybe she was inviting him for something...? What that could mean for their 'tomorrow' was unknown to Hassan.

He let out a yawn as his mind soon wandered to 'Laure.' He wasn't entirely sure who that was, but it seems the likes of Sylvia and the others held her in high regard after their apparent death. Despite that, Hassan knew better than to be glad someone died, even if she was once the enemy. He didn't allow his mind to wander as to why, but he questioned how the companions react if he suggested a brief burial was made. Only the dead see the end of the war after all, and to not bury them is like asking them to never find peace.

His shoulders relaxed as he thought about Òdhran. He was a curious fellow, as he also didn't look at him with hatred like the other Companions- but unlike Irelia, it really was just that, a lack of hatred, instead of yet another mystery involving a woman's mind. He seemed understandable, and perhaps he could be the one he could approach him about that. Of course, he'd ask to be anonymous, but it could be a good way to let the Companions find peace and the Harbingers to show their respects, perhaps come closer as allies? Wishful, fairytale-like thinking, but that was the best outcome by far...

Before he lost consciousness, his mind wandered to Sertek and Sylvia, but, before he could think about the past and the memories engraved on his mind, he was already asleep. Yet even then, for once in an entire year, Hassan didn't dream.