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Azazeal849
04-30-2018, 08:55 PM
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The teenager sat hunched over her books, the parchments lit by a single candle. She had pulled a hood up over her head to blank out all distractions. The curator glanced over her shoulder at the scroll she was reading, saw the drawing of a sacred water snake at the top of it, and smiled slightly.

“The creed of the Shattered Gods, hmm?”

The young woman looked up to acknowledge him as he spoke. Her face was pale skinned; strong-boned and intelligent, framed by wavy black hair.

“That’s right.” she said.

“Where are your parents, child?”

“The Masters called on them to fight at the border.” the girl replied with a hint of pride. “And I’m not a child.”

The curator chuckled. “My apologies. You know, I was born in the Enlightened city, where the creed of the Shattered Gods first came about.”

The teenager put down her scroll, the parchment rustling against the table. “What do you know about them?”

“It is said in the city of the Enlightened that in the age before sunset and sundown, there was a land further from conflict. Two emerged from the collective mess, brothers in vision, shaping the world to be as we know of it today.”

“The Elder Brother and the Younger.” the young woman nodded beneath her hood. “Yes, we have the tale of the two moon gods here in the City of Ash as well.”

The curator smiled. “We Lightmen call them the Greater and the Lesser, but yes, the same gods. The way we tell it, they first created the sky to house the two glowing palaces they built for themselves. Then they tore the rocks and the mountains from the earth to form their symbol of courage and strength, and crafted lesser titans to watch over them. Then came the wind and the fire, twin in mind and creation, guarded by the titans of will, passion and creativity. The last were the streams of water to give life to the abyss, emerging from the idea of ending and beginning, preserving windom, talents and feelings.”

The young woman shuffled her papers, gathering them together. “And then the sun, yes?”

“Yes. As the brothers continued to create magic, it enabled them to make many powerful words, emotions and feelings, and it was with these they created Love. Among all the titans, Love was the one the brothers adored the most, and they built the shining sun together to serve as her home. But she would not favour one above the other, and in their longing for her they created war, hatred and jealousy. The malevolent feelings encouraged the fighting among the brothers, and soon the lesser gods they had created joined the war. Love was killed in the process - and as the world was slowly tearing away at itself, sadness and bitterness were born, but also compassion.”

The young woman listened quietly, her pale blue eyes glinting in the candlelight.

“The brothers shattered each other, just as the rest of the gods are said to have been destroyed in their conflict, never to be seen again. Now their empty moon palaces hang in the sky above us, passing sometimes through shadow and sometimes through light, but the shining sun palace they built for Love always blazes brightest.”

“But the shards?” said the young woman.

“You mean the runestones?” The curator shook his head. “This is where my belief and that of the snake-priests diverges. They say they are remnants of the great titans, bearing their dreams and wisdom, but I believe those are just child tales. Born out of the minds of the romantican, and used by the degenerate to justify their power over others.”

“You don’t believe that the runes are pieces of the gods?”

The curator smiled wanly. “Yes, I know - my people drove the Mer back into the sea for voicing such beliefs. I fear I can’t swim as well as they do, which is why I came here to your city.”

The young woman giggled. “Personally, I don’t understand the Lightmen obsession with snakes. Of all the animals on the riverbank when they discovered the first runestone, why single out a snake?”

“I expect you speak for many Ashmen in that regard. But I expect that rejecting the divinity of a snake upsets the Enlightened less than rejecting the whole mandate for their right to rule.”

“But…” the young woman ventured. “If there is even a seed of truth in their legends…there must be runes more powerful than the rest. Ones holding the power of the two moon brothers.”

“Could be…” The old man hesitated, wondering at the sudden change in tack. “You never said, m’lady, why the sudden interest in our legends?”

“Pure curiosity of the heart.” nodded the young woman as she gathered up her books, “Have a good day.”


Part 1 - The Enlightened

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It was not yet mid-morning, but the Enlightened city was already beginning to suffocate in the dry summer heat. Bleached marble temples sulked next to flaking mudbrick tenements, baking under the pall of dun-coloured smoke raised by dozens of furnaces and tanneries, and by hundreds of street stalls hawking food to rushed workers.

The lifeblood of the city chugged relentlessly on, but it was a strained and furtive pulse. The tenements were marred with discontented graffiti. The workers were cagey and spoke little to each other. And the quality of the meat in the street food was even worse than usual, as the effects of siege rationing began to bite.

As the sun glared down at the smoke-shrouded city, it was greeted by another dusty plume drifting in from the north, following the twisting ribbon of the river. The plume rose from a marching army, slowly grinding its way towards the Enlightened city. Supply wagons kicked up dust from the cracked roads, while leather-clad spearmen tramped across cotton fields and splashed through rice paddies that had been abandoned by the fleeing Lightmen. Despite the heat, the soldiers were singing as they marched - a deep, sonorous chant, syncopated by the stamp of footfalls and the pounding of oxhide drums. They wanted the Lightmen to know that they were coming.

The threatening chant carried down to the city harbour, causing dockworkers to stop and listen fearfully until their overseers roared at them to get on. There was still work to be done, even though only the bravest or most reckless captains were now taking their ships up the river or out into the estuary. Ash longships were prowling down the coast in the wake of their army, and boarding or sinking every Lightman boat they came across. One lucky shipmistress had just dodged the Ash blockade to return with a haul of netted fish. No doubt she had hoped to sell them at a high price in the threatened city. Instead, she found herself arguing bitterly with a customs officer and his escort, who began confiscating half her catch at swordpoint for siege rations.

The only other ship not moored was now rowing its way up the river estuary, having sailed all the way round the coast via the Flint Isle to avoid the encroaching Ashmen. The ship drew in its oars as it bumped up against the pillared wharf, and a deckhand skillfully lassoed a rope around the tying post. The shipmaster - a bearded, big-bellied man who could curse fluently in all the Valley’s main languages - stepped up to the prow and took a great sniff of the stagnant city air.

“Now I remember why I ’ate this fuckin’ city.” he grumbled. He wrinkled his nose and looked back at the eclectic group standing behind him on the deck. “A’right you lot! If yer mad enough to want to run towards the war ’stead of away from it, then here you go. Hop off!”

A deckhand thumped a gangplank down into place, allowing the group to shoulder their belongings and file down onto solid ground once more.

A man who had been standing in the shade of a shop-front awning unfolded his arms and stepped out to meet them. He moved with economical grace in his armour of bronze and leather, and his skin was smooth and tawny-brown. He carried a T-visored helmet in the crook of one muscular arm, and his other hand rested on the pommel of a thick-bladed shortsword. His body was hard, compact - perfectly designed for the efficient application of violence.

“More valiant defenders for the City of the Enlightened, eh?” The man spoke the Light language in a deep baritone, softened by a musical local accent. “You might be the last. Leveler’s army has cut off all the boats further upriver.”

The shipmaster hawked and spat over the gunwhale. “Damn snake-eaters ain’t gettin’ my boat. I’ll moor up down by the cove an’ get the Sun Maid to cast a cloak over it.”

“You do that.” the soldier nodded, turning to the group. He eyed them appraisingly: there was a red-headed man in loose travelling clothes, a scruffy archer, a truculent-looking woman carrying a pickaxe, and a long-haired man with raking scars down his cheek. Perhaps strangest of all was the giant of a man with the iron mask covering his face, like some nightmare rendition of a Lightmen snake-priest.

“Right, lovely boys.” the soldier proclaimed, clapping his hands together. “And girls.” he added, glancing at the taciturn woman. “You can call me Davin, and you can call yourselves late for the muster at the plaza. I know the way, I’ll take you there. All mercenaries together, eh?”

The shipmaster paused to snort as he poled his boat away from the wharf, and pointed at the red-headed man. “That one ain’t a mercenary. He’s a messenger boy. I rowed ’im up an’ down the river to Rise an’ Ash a few times.”

“You mean he’ll deliver anything, to anybody, so long as they pay?” Davin shot back. “Sounds pretty mercenary to me.”

He laughed heartily.

“You’ve come to the right place, lovelies; the Enlightened are pretty keen to share the wealth right now. Course, if they’d shared the wealth earlier and not hogged all the runestones to themselves, they might have some battle mages worth a damn to fight off the Leveler. I hear they even whistled up the Mer for help, can you believe it?”

They struck out into the city, past the irate shipmistress and the customs officers who were confiscating part of her catch.

“You suck.” the shipmistress was sulking, as she plopped herself down on a tying post with her arms and legs tightly crossed.

“Yeah, and you swallow.” the harbour official retorted wearily. “The holy Enlightened make the rules, I just follow them. Now piss off and you might be able to sell the rest of those fish before they rot in this stinking heat.”

As the new arrivals continued into the winding streets beyond the harbour, they could begin to see the logic behind the harsh new policies. The streets were packed to bursting, as local workers shoved and cursed their way through newcomers who had fled to the city in the hope of protection against the approaching army. Every step of the way they were harassed by beggars calling out to them in broken Light, and once Davin had to unsheathe his sword to frighten off a young urchin who tried to dip her hand into his coin purse.

They passed shops that were shuttered closed, building sites where piles of brick and timber stood unworked, and shrines that were crammed back to the approaching streets with fearful, clamouring supplicants. Priests and priestesses in gold facemasks shouted to make themselves heard, urging the crowds to trust in the holy Enlightened.

Eventually the twisting roads opened up into a vast plaza, set below a stepped marble pyramid. Atop the pyramid was an elaborate temple villa, made of gleaming stone - which must have been washed regularly to keep away the greasy brown smoke of the city. No movement was in evidence atop the pyramid, but the plaza was thronged with men and women carrying spears, bows and other more exotic weapons. Their armour was similarly eclectic, and they chattered to each other in a hubbub of different Valley languages. Here and there the group could pick out figures wearing bandoliers and bracelets of smooth stones, etched with swirling symbols, and the air was fizzing with the unmistakable ozone smell of magic potential.

Unlike the streets with their tall buildings and tented awnings, there was no shade from the beating sun in the plaza. Davin pointedly avoided the open space and withdrew beneath another shop front, motioning for the others to join him.

A trumpet blast echoed across the plaza.

“You’re about to be graced with the wisdom of the Enlightened.” Davin said, leaning up against a crumbling mudbrick wall and folding his arms. “Very fond of the sound of their own voices, are the Enlightened.”


* * * * * *

A tall woman clad in flowing blue silks stalked along the marble floor of the temple, her soft shoes masking her footsteps. She was copper-skinned and round-faced, with glossy black hair that had been carefully braided and piled atop her head, resembling the snakes that ringed the golden masks of the city priests. She pushed through the door in front of her without breaking stride, glancing sharply towards the two armed men who flanked it.

“No-one else comes through this door without my say-so, understood?”

“Yes, Blue Lady.” the guards replied hurriedly, and pulled the door shut behind her.

Exhaling, the Blue Lady snatched a clay cup from a tray being held by a nearby servant, and took a drink. The water in the cup was lukewarm. She grimaced, and reached up to flick the cup with her right forefinger. There was a dull crackling sound, and the cup was instantly frosted over with a rime of ice. The Blue Lady felt a warning twinge fizzle up her arm, and reflected that after twenty years of runecasting she should probably not be so flippant with the gods’ gifts. Mortal humans were not born to channel magic after all, and the human body always reached its limit sooner rather than later.

Flexing her hand to dissipate the tingling, she looked around the marble hall. Ahead of her, two spearmen flanked the colonnade leading out to the front steps of the pyramid. A group of masked snake-priests were spaced around the walls - some chanting quiet prayers, others making warding signs towards the recessed bathing pool in the centre of the room. Traditionally, the pool was used to anoint new mages, on the rare occasion that one of the Enlightened deigned to take an apprentice. Now the water was a murky pink, coloured by the bags of mountain salt that the temple servants were busily pouring into the pool.

Standing around the pool were her fellow Enlightened, looking at her with expressions that ranged from curious to guarded. The Rose was studying her with her thin, monolidded eyes, one gull-wing eyebrow raised in silent question. The old, gnarled Hunchback kept glancing down into the pool and biting at his yellowed nails. The umber-skinned Scorpion just stood with arms folded, glaring suspiciously at her.

None of them knew the others’ real names - and even after ten years of nominal alliance, they all still schemed to uncover them when they thought the others weren’t looking. One didn’t become a powerful mage in the Valley without a certain amount of ruthlessness, and those that did never retained their position for long without an almost unhealthy degree of paranoia. The Blue Lady had cast a memory rune upon her own family some years ago, and sent them away to live in one of the coastal villages near the City of the Risen God. Forcing them to mingle with those Risemen heretics was a harsh fate, but still kinder than some of her fellow Enlightened. The Scorpion, for example, was rumoured to have killed his family - although that might have just been a rumour he himself had started, to intimidate his foes.

The Blue Lady was not scared of her fellow Enlightened. The knowledge of thirty eight runes surged through her mind - thirty eight pieces of the Shattered Gods. She knew more of the gods’ dreams than almost anyone in the Valley.

But even she was scared of the Leveler.

And so we are brought to this. She drained her cup and padded softly across the floor to the bathing pool, watching the servants pour salt into the murky water, and watching the shadow that was gliding back and forth beneath the surface.

Suddenly there was a commotion beyond the closed doors behind her.

“I’m sorry m’lady,” the muffled voice of one of the guards sounded, “We’ve orders to…”

There was a moderately loud bang, and a smell of ozone wafted in through the doors as they were flung violently open.

“Out of my way, you fannies!” growled a tiny, wizened old woman as she stormed into the room, past the two singed and rapidly retreating guards.

The Blue Lady flinched. “Will you stop saying that, Crone? This is a temple.”

“Why?” the old woman challenged, adopting a scowl that deepened the lines of her craggy face. “We both have one.”

“I don’t.” said the Hunchback.

“No, but you are one.” the Crone retorted irritably. “Who put guards on the door?”

The Blue Lady shuffled her feet. “That was me.”

“And did you tell them to let no-one in?”

“Obviously I didn’t mean you.” the Blue Lady said, with an exasperated sigh. “If they were a bit literal I apologise. But secrecy is important right now!”

“Oh?” said the Crone, folding her arms and hunching her stooped shoulders. Her eyes were shrewd and searching - young eyes in an old face. The Blue Lady had no idea how old the Crone really was. She might have seen eighty summers, or she might have been only slightly older than the Blue Lady herself, prematurely aged by the rigours of runecraft.

“Yes.” the Blue Lady confirmed. She raised an elegant finger and pointed towards the murky salt-water pool that dominated the room. “And that’s why.”

The water hissed, swirling around the desired location that was marked by the Blue Lady, taking the form of a circle. Foam gathered in response to the increased pace of the water, and the sensation of a new presence was felt by all standing near, as if heralding the coming of new meeting.

And so it was.

The voices were weak at first. Mumbles that stirred as if through a filter, but still detectable. A clicking sound, similar to that made by a dolphin or a whale, but not exactly alike. And when the sound stopped, images poured forth. To each one it was given individually, spilled right into their minds. All experienced something, but each of them saw something else; a different memory, but a welcoming one.

The Rose stepped backwards, frowning, and the Scorpion hissed through his teeth.

“What runecraft is this, Blue?” he shot at his blue-clad counterpart.

“Not mine.” the Blue Lady replied. She thought she knew what was happening. The Mer wanted them at ease.

The Mer arose by splitting the water apart, as effortlessly as if she had been touched by all the runes of the river titan. At first only her head and shoulders were visible, her hair cascading down and thrown over her by the ethereal wind. If her hair had not had such a fiery bright shade, it could have easy passed as water dripping down her blue-tinged skin. Her eyes reflected the deep depths, but they glittered in the torchlight of the temple, appearing alien azure - a shade much more beautiful and bright than that of the Blue’s Lady’ attire.

The Crone inhaled sharply, and most of the priests standing around the hall drew back, making warding signs with their hands. The Mer swam closer to the edge of the pool, but not close enough to touch, as if still testing their reaction.

“You brought…” the Hunchback began, staring at the ethereal creature.

The Scorpion talked over him, rounding on his fellow Enlightened. “You brought a fucking Mer into our temple, Blue? Have you gone soft in the head!?”

“This is heresy.” the Rose agreed, uneasily.

“Their kind were banished.” the Scorpion rejoined. “Did our grandfathers fight the War of Faith for nothing?”

“Oh shut your faces.” the Crone growled. “I assume Blue has a good reason for all this.” She narrowed her eyes at the Blue Lady. “You do have a good reason for all this, I trust?”

“Desperate times.” the Blue Lady said, stepping out of her slippers and striding down into the salty pool. The water lapped at the hem of her gown, staining the material a darker blue.

“Not this desperate.” the Scorpion hissed. “Are we not the will of the gods?”

“Not for much longer if the Leveler gets here.” the Blue Lady countered. She took a deep breath. “This...is the Ambassador.”

The Mer nodded without a word. She seemed to understand, but was not yet willing to communicate by manner of words. As the silence lengthened, the Blue Lady’s fellow Enlightened were clearly wondering if she was capable at all.

“An impressive entrance.” the Crone observed dryly, and put her hands on her narrow hips. “But for an ambassador she doesn’t say much, does she?”

For another long moment there was silence, broken only by the uncomfortable shuffling of feet as the humans and the alien Mer stared at each other.

“Are we supposed to talk first?” the Hunchback ventured.

The Blue Lady chewed the inside of her cheek. She looked into the Mer’s azure eyes, which gazed back placidly. “Umm...so, like I said down at the seafront, we need your help.”

“We don’t need anybody’s help.” the Scorpion scoffed. “We require service.”

“Service is a strong word…” the Hunchback said hesitantly. “How about assistance?”

“Collaboration?” offered the Rose.

“Shut up.” suggested the Crone, rolling her eyes. She leaned over the edge of the pool towards the silent Mer.

“There’s a bad...witch...coming.” she enunciated with condescending slowness.

The Blue Lady gripped the bridge of her nose.

“She wants to burn...down...our...city. Can you help us out with that or not?”

The Mer nodded again, but then pushed her shoulders and arms out of the water and waved her hands together, spreading them apart and then slowly turning to move them over her face, hiding it from view.

All five Enlightened stared at her blankly.

When the Mer realised the meaning was lost to them, she swam much closer, and soon reached the edge of pool, and just like that she began to crawl and climb onto the dry land, water dripping from her naked body and her monstrous fishtail, her blue-tinged skin glowing. The Blue Lady understood that the Ambassador was taking a great risk by moving outside the water, but it seemed like she either was naive to believe that none of them would harm her, or she thought that their minds were in such disarray that she decided to risk approaching them directly.

Soon the Ambassador’s tail vanished, and instead she sprouted legs, mottled with the same scaly texture. The metamorphosis drew yet another gasp from the priests - even with runes, no human could change their gods-given form. It was against the will of the shattered pantheon.

Or at least, the Blue Lady reflected, it had been until a few weeks ago.

The Mer crouched and used her hands to push herself up, and then she started to stand, but it took her some effort until she fully gained her balance.

“Umm…” said the Rose, averting her eyes.

It seemed that the idea of modesty was lost to their guest. The Hunchback tilted his head, and turned to the Scorpion to nod appreciatively, but received only a slap in response.

“Abomination.” the Scorpion scowled.

“Oh for gods’ sake,” muttered the Crone, and snapped her fingers at the nearest priest.

The man crept forwards, his golden snake-mask failing to hide his apprehension. “Yes, holiness?”

The Crone gestured at the naked Mer. “Your toga, if you’d be so kind.”

“My…?” The priest faltered. “For the unbeliever, holiness?”

“Yes,” the Crone affirmed impatiently, “Or you’d best believe I’ll fire you over the city walls. I can’t be bothered watching Rose and Hunchback gawp like a pair of schoolkids.”

Reluctantly, the priest stripped down to his under-tunic and handed his toga to the Blue Lady. The Enlightened mage took the garment and gently wrapped it round the uncomplaining Mer, who seemed slightly bemused by the whole exchange.

Once it was done, the Ambassador started to walk in their direction, looking from one Enlightened to another and reaching one of her hands forward. Scorpion stepped backward, grimacing as if he feared a plague. Rose and Hunchback hesitated. In the end it was the Blue Lady that moved for her.

Once their fingers touched, the Blue Lady felt a tingle of pain, similar to the casting of a rune. Not so sharp a pain though - something very subtle, a sensation of a light pinch or needle sting. She twitched, shaking her head.

Several of the priests stepped forward, eager to leap at the two as they sensed a threat, but the Blue Lady halted them in place, trying to learn more of this strange behaviour and what the Mer was trying to accomplish.

“Words…” the Mer said in perfect Light, opening her eyes, “Words changed.”

Her voice lilted in the strange Mer accent, rising and falling like the gentle crashing of surf. She let go of the Blue Lady’s hands.

“So much has changed…landwalker are a cause of a change…” The Mer looked at the Blue Lady, “This…new change…one of you, is it now?”

“Yes.” The Blue Lady said, while her fellow Enlightened watched suspiciously. “She calls herself the Leveler. She has an army and she’s bringing it to destroy us.”

“Landwalkers… always quarrel. Not a change. Destroy others. Kill mer. Fight for more land. Not a change at all.”

Her delivery was monotone, yet still the Blue Lady could see her fellow Enlightened seething. “Not like this.” she argued. “The Leveler has a new power...power that we thought only you Mer could have.”

Around her she could see the priests making their warding gestures again, and the Rose joined them.

“People fleeing before her have said they saw her change her form.”

“The art was not a Mer’s gift alone. But it was shunned. Forsaken. Killed. Like the Mer.” The Ambassador’s eyes averted away from all those present. “But… As I glanced through the memories to learn of the words you landwalkers use now… I noticed... a feeling. Fear. Something which is unlike you, lady in sea clothing. Why?”

The Blue Lady tried hard to conceal her shock and discomfort. It had been claimed that some Mer could read minds by touch, but she had never seen it done, and she had not realised that that was what the Ambassador had been doing when they joined hands.

“The Enlightened fear nothing.” the Rose interrupted, warningly.

The Mer throw her gaze at the woman, as if stabbing her with her eyes alone, “No fire in sight. Wander forever without a sight. But what if they come from out of there? In a place where you have no control.”

The Blue Lady had no idea what she was talking about, but the Rose evidently did, because she went very still and swallowed hard.

The Ambassador then looked at the Scorpion. “They will come, crawl over you, around your body, into your clothes, hiss with gentle wave of wings, gentle sound… but not so gentle on the skin. Scorpion is a poor name for one with such fear.”

The Scorpion’s neck muscles twitched, as if words he wanted to speak were congealing in his throat. Even the Crone seemed lost for words.

The Mer looked at the Blue Lady. “Fear is part of everyone. It will be a mistake not to acknowledge it.”

The Blue Lady took in a deep breath and let it out, raggedly. “Yes. We’re afraid. We’re all afraid! The Leveler is coming with magic that shouldn’t be possible!”

“Why aren’t you preparing for war, then? Surely landwalkers proved more than once, that they are capable to silence any threat, be it real or imaginary... Or maybe, this change...will prove to be a needed one instead?”

“Preparing for…?” the Hunchback spluttered, and waved a gnarled hand in the vague direction of the colonnade leading out onto the plaza. “Didn’t you see…?”

“This is asinine.” the Crone growled. “We’re talking about a wizard who can reshape the whole Valley, and trample over all of us to do it! Is that a change that you think is needed!?”

“You think only with your eyes.” The Ambassador covered her face with her hands; the same gesture she had made in the pool. “What about the others, those that you don’t give the time of your day to. Can you honestly say even, that all under you are thinking as you do? What this Leveler hopes to accomplish… from what I saw… was very noble and justified, was it not?”

The Mer stared at the Blue Lady. The copper-skinned witch sighed, knowing that she understood - and if not agreeing with the Ambassador’s words, then still seeing the reason in them. To the Mer, there was not a single truth. The Ambassador would deem the way that they humans behaved and acted - or even the way they thought - as meaningless.

“I assume you’re referring to the Leveler overturning the old order in the city of Ash.” the Blue Lady said quietly. “Yes, she freed the slaves, but do you know what happened when she did? Thousands died. If she comes here to overthrow us, then thousands more will die. If she’s so noble, then why is she sending her army here, when last year we had peace with the Ashmen?”

The Blue Lady folded her hands over her stomach and exhaled.

“I can see you don’t believe me. Well see for yourself at least.” She pointed out towards the sunlight beyond the stuffy temple. “Look at the army the Leveler is bringing to kill us all. And if you see the Leveler herself, pray to whatever gods you mer believe in that she kills you quickly.”

The Mer moved slowly and started to walk around the woman in blue, “No. You don’t believe in that. You may think you do, you may convince yourself that is the truth, but you doubt…”

The Ambassador stopped and closed her eyes. She appeared to be mesmerised as she recited the words - words which, the Blue Lady now realised, she saw engraved within her own mind.

“The one you call Leveler won’t stop there. No she won’t. And she will call to the Mer… they will flock to her like hungry birds and she will deliver, just to spite the rest of us a little more. And the Mer are simple, they will not rebel. Not unless given a reason to. And she won’t give them a reason to. And in her hands she will hold the Book, a gift from her new allies, and around her an army growing ever stronger. No. We Enlightened must be first to get to them. We must convince them to give us the Book first.”

The Mer opened her eyes and stared at the silent mages.

“The Book?” the Hunchback asked, “What Book?”

“The book of true names.” the Rose answered him, folding her arms. “A few generations ago, a mage from the City of Ash managed to create a spell that would write down the true names of everyone who had ever been born or ever would be. As soon as he realised what he’d created he threw it into the sea, because he thought that only the Mer could be trusted not to use that kind of power.”

“Well that was smart.” the Crone said, acidly. “The Leveler’s true name would be very useful right now, since seemingly no-one can take her in a straight fight. The refugees coming down from the mountains were claiming that they saw her kill the Immortal, and he was pretty much the most dangerous wizard out there until she showed up.”

The Blue Lady chewed the inside of her cheek and looked at the Mer Ambassador. “She’s right. No-one has ever had power like the Leveler’s before. She could become anything, recover from any wound...if the legends are true she could even make herself live forever! And if you Mer know everything you claim to know, you must see that she could overturn the whole world with a power like that. She might promise your people peace but she’s a liar.” The Blue Lady balled her fists, vehement. “She’s a liar. No-one with the power of a god uses it only for the good of others.”

The Ambassador blinked her cerulean eyes. “So much noise from all of you. You speak of such danger that requires the knowledge of names. A power that should never be given to any of you landwalkers. You are too young. Unworthy… But,” The Mer moved a little further away from the Enlightened, even as they bristled at her words. “There is such a sensation of wounded pride. Coming here. Hearing me speak. This all upset you greatly, and you would have rather avoided it if possible… So you must be sincere...”

The Mer closed her eyes.

“Very well, I will see this danger with my own eyes. I will form a temporary pact with you. I must consider the will of my people if they are to be hurt, but if no harm is to befall them… perhaps it won’t be you that shall be given our support. It is a risk. A double edged sword. Are you willing to accept the conditions?”

“Do we have any other choice?” the Crone asked, arching her eyebrows. Next to the pool, the Scorpion clenched his fists, but said nothing.

Scottie
05-08-2018, 07:54 PM
A bead of sweat trickled down her neck and danced over countless scars before being lost in harsh dirty fabric. The heat was like nothing she had ever experienced before. It filled her lungs and had its filthy fingers tight around her throat. Her eyes remained closed, giving her a calm serene appearance, though she rarely slept. Slaves were not heavy sleepers, the slightest of movements and her body would screech itself away. A half muted song pierced through her light slumber. Her awakening was not as sudden as it usually was, her left foot slid forward and lay flat against the worn wooden floor. Her knuckles slowly turned white as her grip tightened around the axe that never lay far from reach. Finally, her eyes flickered open.

The Enlightened City. Perhaps she had built it up too much in her mind. She expected temples that brushed the clouds, pure air that felt like your first breath and colours…Oh the colours she had expected. Yet, ash coloured buildings nestled closely together and smoke seemed to kiss every surface, leaving the city feeling positively…beige. The ship master seemed as disappointed as she did, she could almost see his harsh words paint the air before her. Thin fingers slid up the handle of the axe and she planted it against the wooden floor, using it as leverage to push herself to her feet. The stained axe was swiftly swung round to resting against her back. A threadbare sack held all of her possessions and was easily tied to her wrist by a thick cord.

Every step was like walking through a thick disgusting soup of sweat, tears and dirt. Her eyes narrowed with the newcomer, he looked too new. A man whose armour shined as brightly as the sun above them had surely never seen a proper fight. The Wanderer’s jaw tensed with the language, she had picked up some phrases but still she struggled. Concentration etched itself onto her forehead as she didn’t wish to appear stupid or useless. A single arched eyebrow shot up as he called her a girl, she’d let it pass this time. Dust floated around her ankles with every step and the smallest of smirks passed her lips for a brief moment.

No response was gifted to Davin from the wanderer. She did not believe that they had called for the Mer, surely they were not that desperate. Fear curled around her throat as they entered the crowds. Crowds were easy for anyone to hide within, she would be surrounded at all times…and she didn’t know if she trusted those she travelled with to watch her back. Each breath was harsh leaving her dry lips, her knuckles felt fit for bursting and every slight passing brush of a stranger had her flinching. Soon the herd thinned out and only the beggars remained. It was the sharp noise of an unsheathing sword that had the fear slowly dissipate from around her throat…only to be replaced by a pin prickle of anger.

The child was desperate. The child was hungry, alone and was resorting to dangerous thievery. Three deep scars ran across the wanderer's back for trying the very same thing. Wetting her lips, she let out a soft whistle. Just loud enough to capture the fleeing child’s attention. One nod was gifted before a worn coin was flicked towards her which was swiftly clasped in a grubby palm.


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Her fingers curled around the coin, it was caked in dirt but she found it herself. She hadn’t stolen it, she hadn’t done anything untoward to get it. It had glinted at her in the dying sunlight. Her eyes were badly blood shot and she hadn’t slept in days. Blood still speckled her skin and the heavy slave torc remained pressing into her collar bone. Tears dribbled down her cheeks as she knelt by the beaten dirt road. Hope flooded through her body, it felt stupid to be crying over a single coin. But it was more than she had ever owned in her life and properly owned. Even the runes that gave her some meagre sense of power…were not truly hers. She stole them. She had not used them even once since her escape, she needed to blend in. Well, blend in as well as an escaped irate slave can.

The first coin that was truly hers and she couldn’t bare to part with it. It took her time but she eventually drilled a small hole, just big enough to loop a piece of worn twine through it . It rested just below her torc and it was a subtle reminder to herself that she was free. Waking each morning and feeling it rest against her skin was the only thing that would quell the fear in her stomach. It went ignored by most who encountered her…by most. The exhaustion soon captured her in its steely claws. Her body folded underneath a dying oak tree. She thought she would be safe, it was far from the path and reasonably hidden. The nativity of a recently escaped slave got the better of her that night.

A sharp pain seared through her neck, jolting her awake from her deep slumber. Her hands barely flew out in time as her face hit the muddy grass before her. The air was torn from her as her torc slammed against her wind pipe. “Move. Up on your feet.” The voice was unfamiliar but the tone was easily recognisable. It was the way you speak to animals, to dogs who disagree with their owners and kick their feet in. Fear pierced through every fibre in her body, wide green eyes snapped up and settled on two men. A burning bright torch sat between them. “I wont say it again girl. Up. Now.” Like a well trained dog, she pushed herself to her feet and stood shaking before them.

Rope had been threaded through her torc, like a make shift leash. One harsh tug and she stumbled forward. A breathy chuckle left the man on her left, “I know that brand. I’m sure he’ll be missing you eh.” Her dress had sighed further down her shoulder, revealing the deep swirled brand. “Come on then.” Another tug and she kicked her feet in. “N…No.” He didn’t respond to the shaky confidence the slave showed. Her fingers moved up to wrapping around the rope. “N…No.” Anger echoed in the man’s voice, “Fuck sake. Move before I break your fucking legs.” The threat was nothing that she hadn’t heard before. It was accompanied by another sharp tug on the rope, forcing the torc to clash against her neck.

Fear churned her stomach as she refused to move, something deep within her kept her feet rooted to the ground. “You can’t make me go back there.” The smallest flicker of defiance rang through her green eyes. “I can make you do whatever I want sweetheart.” The man on her right started to walk towards her, the grass licked his boots as he advanced on her like a predator does their prey. His eyes hungrily dragged down her body as he got close enough that she could smell the stench of his breath. “Now move before I force you onto your knees for the rest of the fucking night.” That was it. She was done with feeling like a dog. The rope snapped like a blade of grass between her fingertips and then the torc was between her fingers. It took no effort at all for her to bend it out of place. A sickening smile brushed onto her lips as she held the heavy torc in hand, watching fear enter their eyes. She could get used to that sight.


----------------------------------------------------

“Children. Fear not. Trust in your holy leaders.” The words pierced through the fog that covered her eyes. Her fingers had absentmindedly brushed her throat, the torc had left a heavy scar from her lifetime of wearing it. Weary green eyes sought out the owner of the shouts and her jaw tensed as the gold glinted back at her. This was why she had nearly not entered this city. That gold, she knew where that gold came from. The blood that was spilled to get that gold and they so happily wore it around their necks while slaves felt the heavy torcs rest against their collarbones, a sensation that little would ever live without. The wanderer felt every bit like the slave that she was when they entered the plaza. The weapons they held were sharp and made for battle, their clothing was fresh and magic seemed to reek off them.

Wisdom. She knew that word. To hear it in the same sentence as the Enlightened made her shake her head softly. If they had such great wisdom…they would not need all these warriors. They would not need all this magic. Her back hit the wall as quickly as it could. She preferred keeping herself up against a wall. Her gaze picked over the crowd, searching for someone that she knew would not be there. Her threadbare sack hit the ground by her ankle, a soft clanging sounded as the hidden wrangled torc made contact with the stones beneath her feet. Her voice barely louder than a mumble sounded in a vague response to Davin. “This better not take all day.”

Kiro Akira
05-09-2018, 08:48 PM
The hot wind rustled the trees along the banks of the nearby river, lashed to a bobbing dock a single boat was all that marked the half hidden port of a nameless town of perhaps little importance, it was well out of the way of the destructive path this "Leveler" marched through the valley, it was quite and content to remain so, but even as such, the dire need of the Lightmen still overruled this desire for peace and quiet.

In this nameless village's sole pub Killian, under the alias of Mora sat relatively alone surrounded by a thin wispy smoke that hovered above the heads of all the guests, in his hands an earthenware cup of a dark ale, probably a local brew, slowly emptied itself, each pull of the harsh liquid taken in long slow draws. Killian was not normally one to spend time in pubs and taverns, but he was on the trail of a dangerous individual, someone who was living proof that mankind was not to be trusted with the power Runestones granted them. The Seeker was stopping in this particular pub to gather news, it had been some time since he had lost track of his quarry, and in that time she seemed to have caused quite a few issues. The Ashmen families running south from their overthrown city were testament to that.

Still, all seemed well in the pub as a few men gathered and slammed down coins placing bets as they gathered up. Here was a game in the battle of wits. Nine Men's Morris (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nine_Men%27s_Morris) was a game they had been playing all morning and a man that had gone by the name Solar. His true name was Orin, but true names were not to be used lightly where wizards were concerned. He had gained a fair amount of coins. It was his turn once again to play.

The game had just begun, and he hoped to win this game as well. A game of luck if any yet Solar was one of the luckiest. Solar picked up his glass of darkened liquor and clenched the glass slightly as the drops of sweat (water) on the glass had refrozen to a solid state keeping his drink cold. With this he took a valued sip and placed his first token on the board placing three of the coins they had used for currency ahead. "Alright here we go, I'm wagering three coins. And I'll match any price you take." He said with a sly grin.

A sunburned farmhand, who was taking his lunch with several buddies while they waited out the worst of the sun’s midday glare, sized him up.

”Alright, redhead.” he said, clinking three coins down onto the table next to Solar's. "You're on. Three coins."

"I wouldn't take that bet." advised a gravelly voice from the next table. It came from a man in a light travelling cloak, who was watching them steadily despite the deep circles under his eyes. He spoke Light, like the rest of them, but his accent was the hard-edged staccato of someone from the city of Ash.

The farmhand turned in his seat, annoyed at the interruption. "What's it to you, snake-eater?"

The Ashman gestured towards Solar's ice-speckled glass. "Look at his cup. It's still frosted over despite this infernal heat. And he's got a pouch at his belt, but all the coins are going into his pockets. I'd ask him what's in that pouch."

When asked about his pouch, Solar took a glance towards the Ashman speaking out to him. Of course his Dialect was clearly not from around here and only caused him to glare more. "Why do you have to ask about my pouch? What gives you that right."

The Ashman flexed his jaw, peeling his lips back over his teeth and then hiding them again. "This world could use a little more honesty. What do you have to hide?"

One of the other farmhands stood up, his chair raking back across the floor. "Mother fucker." he said. "Are you a wizard? Did you cheat me out of my money half an hour ago?"

Yet with his statement he felt the man chime in about cheating him out of his money. "Look man, I can cheat you out all day and you'd never know it. But I can't help when you're bad at the game. If you're bad you're bad that's all there is too it."

Several heads turned at this sudden outburst, the least of which was the head of the Seeker, Killian had heard most of the exchange, but for his part he didn't intervene, at least he didn't plan on it until it looked like things were heating up.

"Now hold on there, I've been watching this wizard since he came in. Only magic he's done so far is to chill his ale." Killian's own voice was low and deliberate, More of an attempt to hide his own Ash accent than anything else, if the Seeker knew one thing it was that people distrusted foreigners almost more than they distrusted their own leaders. "Now I can get you a drink if you like."

Solar's opponent swept his coins back off the table. "Not until this prick," He reached across the table to prod Solar sharply in the chest, "Shows us his runes. I want to know exactly what he's been casting."

"Mages ain't nothing but trouble." his companion agreed, glowering. "Always swanning round, lording it over the rest of us, starting wars..."

Solar was feeling on edge as the situation heated up. Now he was being poked in the chest which only angered him more. "Show you my runes? Why not show me yours? What's it gotta say if I don't show you mine? For all I know you might have a rune where you can use it to steal mine. Won't be having that mate."

When the one man spoke of him only using his magic to chill his drink he held his drink up in the air a bit to note that was an agreement. While in his little pouch, Solar did have a rune where he could easily win the game just by using it he had chosen not to and really didn't want to reveal the rune here.

As the two men argued, they were being observed by a mysterious man hunched in the furthest corner of the pub. Though his features were shadowed by his heavy cloak, his focused, ice-blue eyes shone clearly. They moved back and forth between the irate farmhand and the man with a bow and arrows attempting to calm his outburst. For the stranger, known to himself as Brannon and to all others as the Raven, there was no point to debate at all. It was clear to him from the start that the red-haired boy was a mage. Hell, he barely even tried to hide it. But from what Brannon's trained eyes could see, the archer fellow was correct. There was no sign of any trickery, just a man wanting a cool drink.

On any normal occasion, Brannon would rarely come to the defense of a magic-user. Most, he had learned, were snake-eaters and deceivers of the innocent. But considering this was but a young man, just enjoying a gamble or two, he saw no need for any anger. Neither did he see need for intervention either, however. The archer seemed to be handling it well enough, anyways. Brannon returned to his drink, swirling the ale in his glass while keeping eyes on the men.

The farmhand though, logic clouded with ire, apparently took offense to the Raven's curious gaze. His attention moved from the archer to Brannon, and his brow furrowed. "What the hell are you looking at?" he spoke, staring directly into Brannon's cold eyes.

"None of your business," the Raven replied. His Ashen accent was miniscule, his tongue trained from the years of living in the city. "I suggest you take that man up on his offer and calm yourself over an ale. You could even get the kid to chill it for you." He smirked and took a sip from his glass.

His smirk did little for the farmhand's temper. "I'll make it my business if you won't mind your own, big guy."

Killian could almost taste the tension in the air now, or that would have been the smoke. Regardless he decided this farmhand was about to blow the lid off of an already escalating tension, and over a few paltry coins no less. So typical of 'civilized folk'

Leaving his more deadly weapons and his mug of by now warm ale at his table Killian strode between the rustic lightman and his would be target.
"Let's just take it easy, no one was getting involved in anyone's business, now my offer still stands, I can get you a drink if you like."

"Fuck you, snake-eater." the farmhand said, using the typical Light slur for Ashmen. "What are you anyway, his bodyguard? Tell you what, I'll take your drink, if that little shit hands back Finn's money, and then the two of you get the fuck out of our sight."

Solar stood up from the table and snatched his own golden coins from the group and placed them back in their rightful place. And with that snatch he took sight of a few more golden coins left on the table from yet another man. With this in mind, his slyness took over as he activated another one of his runes.

With this, it was a quick motion that most wouldn't even take hint at seeing they were in the heat of the moment. Yet the few golden coins on the table were swapped with pieces of the game board where Solar quickly snatched those up.

Standing as he was Killian briefly saw the suspected wizard pull some extra coin, the speed with which he did it indicative of a rune being used, Killian thought it rather petty, and most defiantly not something that would help the current hostilities. So in his wisdom he kept quite about it, only shooting a sidelong glance at the wizard instead.

Just when he believed to get away with it he glanced up to see one man looking dead at him and the pocketed coins. It was by no means as stealthy as he had hoped, and on top of that he knew he was seen. The two had eyes locked for what seemed like forever as he watched the man process it in his head. "Shhhh...." Responded Solar to the mans face.

While he believed the man would keep quiet, Solar's belief was quickly ended as the man pointed and shouted. "That bastard was cheating! I just saw him swap some coins!"

Solar frowned and muttered to himself. "Fuck...." As a rather larger man nearly twice his own size turned to look at him. Solar quickly shook his head in protest but was met with a fist to the jaw.

One punch, that's usually all it took when it came to these sorts of things. Killian had seen his share of spontaneous fights before, one could say it came with the job of wandering the valley in search of powerful magics to lock away. It was as such that Killian had the good sense to duck when the smaller framed farmhand determined that as long as someone else threw the first blow he was in the clear to throw the second.

Then it all erupted into chaos, the bartender might have shouted something about not allowing violence, or he may have shouted something to encourage his fellow lightmen to greater acts of ale fueled justice. It really didn't matter as soon the whole room erupted as fist and mug met skull and chest alike.

Solar found himself slammed up against the wall with the farmhand's forearm across his throat. With the hand to his throat, he grasped the mans forearm and cringed as he tried to catch his breath.

"First the Immortal," the Lightman spat, "Then the fucking Leveler, now you. You rune-casters think you can do whatever you want and shit all over the little folk, well not in my village!"

Nearly choking, he quickly activated the Blaze rune at his side. With his grasp on the man's arm, his hand began heating up creating a small flame. Singing the hairs on the mans arm as well as providing the man with a burn. The man let go of him and stumbled back, yelping a curse.

Solar by no means was going to take shit from anyone. Much less one of his own kind. A lightman was no better then another and that's how Solar saw it. As Solar hit the ground in a fall, he quickly followed up with a dash towards the man giving him a heavy right hook striking in in the side of his head. "Fuck are you talking about? You're little town ain't gonna be shit if you keep this up."

While his threat wasn't much, he knew this man also had no idea what his runes were, nor the ability they held inside. "Wanna see a 'Leveler' then I can show you. Level your own little ass." He grabbed the dazed lightman by the shirt clearly looking to beat the shit out of him. If they wanted a fight he had no problem causing one. The farmhand snarled, locked his hand around the arm gripping his shirt, and butted his forehead into Solar's nose.

The blood quickly escaped his nose as he felt an ominous crack in it. With this, he cringed and reeled back placing a hand under his nose before taking a glance at the blood. With this he felt his anger fuel much faster. And with that, he dashed back towards the man giving him yet another strike. This time he aimed for the stomach and would only follow it up with another fist. This one had aimed for anywhere he could hit. His opponent lost his footing under the flurry of blows and crashed backwards over the game table, sending the board flying.

Solar himself had taken pride in knocking the man to the ground and claimed his victory. "How's that for a level!" He shouted to him and turned only to take a duck from a flying chair. This one had seemed completely off course. Yet it struck the table where Brannon sat. It had enough force to likely knock anything off the table if not roll over the table completely.

Whilst the Solar was fending off a veritable horde of angry farmhands Killian stepped back only to be met with a blow to the head.

"Don't think I an't forgot about you snake eater!" The voice was that of the farmhand he'd stepped up to earlier. His eyes were bloodshot, and there were bruises covering his arms, whether from work or the sudden explosion of violence Killian was unsure. The farmhand took another swing, this one Killian blocked before he gave the farmhand a hard kick to the stomach.

"You should have taken the ale friend, you should have taken the ale." Backing up to a table Killian gripped a wooden chair, perhaps a bit overkill but life rarely offered any chance for a truly measured approach.

"I ain't interested in anything you got to say you foreign piece of shit!"

The farmhand was rather flustered, and as if to make matters worse another local decided to join the fight, slipping behind the Seeker and trying to restrain him. Only to be met with an unexpected show of strength as Killian heaved the poor sod to the side and into a wooden pillar in time to then finish his other foe.
He took the chair behind him and swung it around to catch the upset farmhand square on the temple, dropping him and shattering the legs of the chair in the process.

The Raven sighed as the chair skidded across the table in front of him, spilling his drink. The fight had been quite entertaining thus far, but he hadn't any intention of joining it. He'd been planning to meet a contact in this little village, and that task would be made much harder if he were to be thrown out. Yet it seemed inevitable, as all things tended to be.

Brannon's gaze searched for the one that threw the chair, but the chaos made this near impossible. The red-haired boy- the careless one that caused all this trouble, Brannon added internally- dealt with the big guy, and the archer toed with another muscle-brained farmhand. The Raven also caught sight of the bartender, shouting profanities and no doubt fearing for his life. He almost felt bad for the man. Wasn't the first time he's seen some backwater town up-ended by the presence of runecasters, and it certainly wouldn't be the last.

Finally, Brannon rose from his surprisingly-still-intact seat. He began to walk forward, ducking under a wild blow and nearly tripping over a fallen brawler.

Solar continued through striking yet another man down. This one was much weaker then the one before him, seeing him go down after one good right hook to the jaw. The boy used his shroud to wipe off the blood that was still coming from his nose and looked for the next candidate.

As he went for another man, he heard a rather loud bang noise from behind him. A musky looking fellow who had just blown a hole through two tables. It was then Solar had assumed it was enough and blinked staring the man down.

The barkeeper analyzed the destruction thanking the man. He brushed his counter off and glared to Solar pointing at him directly. "Of all the fucking people you better be coughing up some of those golden coins you earned to pay for your recklessness! Or you will be casted out of this place for the rest of your time!" The man was responded to by a small pouch filled with a grand total of three golden coins and Solar shrugging. "Don't care mate, plenty of other bars to wreck."

Price
05-13-2018, 02:43 AM
29 Years Prior

High upon a mountaintop overlooking a green valley below and the City of the Risen God further into the horizon stood two figures dueling. The first was a fully grown man with a body with a physique to rival any champion. He wore a mask, iron and crudely fashioned with slanted slits for eye-holes, two small nostril sized breathing holes at the nose, and a small hole at the lips of his mouth covered by four vertical bars allowing him to breathe and speak audibly. The rest of his garments were unremarkable: Black leather vest, trousers, and boots and silver armor plates at the shoulders and chest. He wielded a single knight sword as he faced his opponent.
That opponent was a boy merely eight years old with very little meat on his bones. Even for his age, the child was tiny in stature, lightweight, and what little muscle he did have was lean in his arms. As fragile as he looked, there was no trace of fear in his hickory colored eyes when the man charged at him. The boy was nimble on his feet, dashing to the left side to dodge a strike aimed for his right shoulder and neck. As another blow came down at his head, he leaped backwards and landed on the balls of his feet. "Stand your ground, boy. Parry and then counter!" The man commanded sternly.
"You're too big! You'd cut through me!" The boy protested as he dodged yet another blow and another after that.
“Well at least you could die with some dignity then. Do you intend to simply dance forever?” The man retorted, continuing to push the offensive driving the poor child back on his heels.

The boy gritted his teeth and came at the man from the side. Instead of attacking from a traditional stance, he leaned forward so that he was nearly squatted and drove into a sprint aiming to swing for the larger man’s legs. His attack was easily blocked and promptly repelled, sending the boy’s landing on his backside. When he looked up, the tip of the man’s blade was at his throat. Just as quickly, the sword was withdrawn and the man was helping him to his feet with a great smile spread across his concealed face. “Very good,” the man started. “What you lack in technique, skill, and size, you make up for in resourcefulness. I will grow you into a fiene swordsman yet. Now let’s get you back home.”
“Thank you, master.” The boy said in a tired pant, his sweat covered face glowing with an expression of pride with an ear-to-ear smile.
~ ~ ~


Present Day

A single figure stood at the harbor on the edge of the dock, eyes looking out at the horizon where the ocean kissed the sky. He was completely still as if time had frozen him in place and left him to silent deliberations. No one seemed to notice him, the man in the mask, amidst the bustle of the port. The mask was made of iron and crudely fashioned with slanted slits for eye-holes, two small nostril sized breathing holes at the nose, and a small hole at the lips of his mouth covered by four vertical bars allowing him to breathe and speak audibly. His garments were otherwise unassuming: a brown, leather tristan tunic with shoulder and chest plates beneath, matching leather pants, and knee-high black ren boots. The last piece of the ensemble was a simple hood attached the tunic, overturned to keep the mask as concealed as possible. The Wraith had garnered the reputation across the lands as either a nightmarish ghost story or else a hellish reality. It was better for him to keep a low profile in the city so as to not start a panic among the populace.

The assassin departed from the dock with but a single question on his mind. How much longer before that sweet aroma of the ocean breeze wafting through the air was tainted by the stench of war, blood, and death? He was tired and weary of these engagements, of his sworn responsibilities. If not for that damnable blood oath, he’d have broken off his shackles and shattered his mask long ago. Amidst the turmoil raging in his mind, there was one thought that was clear. A catastrophic war was coming to the valley, and it was of paramount importance that he study for himself the key figure in the heart of it before he too was pulled into the conflict. Who was this Leveler? Was her war just? Or did she spill blood for vanity and iniquity? And what was to be done about the Enlightened? Were they truly any better? Rumors of hypocrisy flooded the streets of the city like wildfire. Were they a plague to be cleansed as well? Or perhaps this was a scenario where direct intervention by the Wraith was simply not needed...two corrupt warring factions wiping themselves from the land with a victor rising more worse for the wear and ripe for the Wraith’s reaping? Where to begin? A meeting with the Enlightened? A sit-down with the Leveler? So many options, so little time...

Azazeal849
05-20-2018, 11:23 PM
Her voice, barely louder than a mumble, sounded in a vague response to Davin. “This better not take all day.”

“That’s a promise they’ve never been particularly good at keeping.” Davin snarked, jerking his thumb up towards the awning keeping off the worst of the sun’s glare. “Hence the tent.”

As the trumpet blast faded, a line of the city’s numerous priests began to file out of the temple doors. Each one wore a golden mask, embossed with wriggling casts of the water snakes that the Lightmen worshipped. One of the priests held a handful of seeds, which he scattered around the columns at the pyramids top. Others threw out handfuls of dried flower petals, letting them drift down the pyramid steps.

“Just as the water snake guided our ancestors to the first runestones,” one of the priests called out in a sonorous voice, “So do the Enlightened guide us in our darkest hour. By mastery of the runes they are masters of our fates, and by the runes do they commune with the Shattered Gods. Bow to hear their wisdom!”

Davin looked at Killian and the scarred woman who, not being fully fluent in Light, were struggling to make out some of the priest’s words. “Don’t worry,” he reassured them, “You’re not missing much.”

As the priests silently knelt along the sides of the temple colonnade, a pale woman dressed in black appeared at the top of the pyramid. She slowly raised her arms, and the seeds that the priests had scattered spontaneously burst open and produced thin whips of vine. They snaked their way up and around the temple columns, rapidly thickening and sprouting thorns and small white flowers.

“When you’re that powerful you can waste it on making it look impressive.” Davin observed.

“The sun sustains all things.” the pale woman shouted, “Our sun is faith! Faith that we must hold ever higher in dangerous times.”

“We welcome you.” called out a man with a crooked back, who limped out of the temple to stand beside her. “Fellow warriors of the faith, all those who would oppose evil and lay down their lives for the Shattered Gods.”

Davin clicked his tongue. “And their money.”

“The Leveler is coming!” roared a man dressed in overlapping chevrons of leather and dark metal, taking up position beside the other Enlightened. “With an army of heathen snake-eaters at her back! That vile witch isn’t content to tear down her own city and massacre its people, no - she wants to do the same here! But this is a greater city! This is the first city! This is the city of the Enlightened!”

“Desperate times require us to rise above all lesser feuds.” proclaimed a lady in flowing blue as she emerged from the temple. “You are testament to that unity in the face of evil. Fight together, protect this city, and you will have the blessing of the gods as well as gold!”

A small, withered woman stalked forward to join the other four. Before she could open her mouth to speak, however, a new sound sliced through the hot air of the plaza. It was more distant than the trumpet, and deeper. The sound of a warhorn. ahoooooooooo.

As the crowd rippled, armoured heads turning towards the sound, it came again - loud and urgent. ahoooooOOOOO.

“Are you deaf?” the tiny woman shrieked from the top of the pyramid. “That’s your cue, you fannies! Get to the walls!”

“Well I take back what I said earlier.” Davin said to Aggie, gritting his teeth and loosening his sword in his scabbard as he pushed away from the crumbling bricks. “I guess that didn’t take all day after all. I’ll put you on the east gate along with Shaun’s boys, come on!”

The other advantage of being at the edge of the plaza was that they were ahead of the crowd as it turned and, by knots and by ordered companies, began to spill out of the public square towards the city perimeter. The crowds around the temples were beginning to dissipate as civilians ran for shelter, clogging the roads once again.

“Oh gods!” a wide-eyed man shouted at the group, trying to grab onto Brannon, and then onto Davin. “The Ashmen are coming! What do I do? I’m panicking!”

Davin slapped him out of his path by way of agreement. The Lightman staggered against a sooty tenement, clutching his cheek in shock. “Now I’m in pain and I’m panicking!”

“Go home.” Davin suggested. “And lock your door!”

They pressed on through the streaming crowd, passing a suburban district that Solar recognised as the one he grew up in. All around them frantic parents were shouting for their children lost in the crush, or scooping them up and running for the side-streets. A masked priest hung on to a night lamp like a man clinging to driftwood amidst a flood, heckling the group as they passed to have faith and to smite the invaders.

Within a few minutes they reached the curtain wall of the city. It was ten metres high, made from sandstone blocks hauled into place by magic force and human labour. Stone steps clung to the inside of the walls, and at the top archers in leather armour stood ready behind the battlements.

“Come on,” Davin beckoned them, “Let’s get a decent view of the bastards coming to kill us.”

At the top they were greeted by the sight of a black mass, half hidden by dust clouds - formations of spearmen and archers and mounted lancers, all grinding towards the city in battle deployment. Their line stretched as far as the river, where the Ashmen had lashed their longships together to form a bridge from bank to bank. Ash soldiers were steadily filing across to the other side, forming another line that was curving round to envelop the city’s western bank.

“Make ready!” an officer further down the wall bawled.

The archers straightened their arms and waited, fingers curled to hold their arrows against their bows. One of them panicked, snatching back his bowstring and sending his arrow arcing over the wall with a thrumm. It fell a hundred paces short of the advancing army.

“Hold your fire you morons!” the officer roared in rebuke.

Davin tutted under his breath and looked at the mages beside him. “Honestly, I hope you’re better. Some of these Light archers are such bad shots I wouldn’t put it past them to shit their own pants and miss…”

Shouted orders carried up from the fields beyond the wall, and with a resounding stomp the blocks of spearmen halted, still comfortably out of range of the defenders’ arrows. As silence fell, a handful of figures detached from the army and began to stride confidently towards the walls.

“Ah, shit.” Davin cursed under his breath. “Either they’re suicidally overconfident, or those are mages.”

At their current distance, it was difficult to make out the enemy wizards clearly. There was a young man with a sun-shading shawl wrapped over his shoulders and head, and an older, stern-faced man dressed in crimson. The third man was tall, broad and bulky, and even at this distance the group could tell that there was something wrong with his face. The fourth was hooded and cloaked despite the heat, his black robes trailing so that he seemed to float rather than to walk. Two women strode among them; one with flaming red hair; the other tall and wiry, with one brown hand on her sword-belt and the other thrust up towards the sky. The group could see a greasy flicker in the air above the advancing mages - some kind of barrier rune that she was casting.

The youngest man lengthened his stride to draw ahead of the group. He reached up and flipped down the hood of his shawl, revealing a youthful, tawny-skinned face given character by dark eyes and a straight, narrow nose. Jet-black hair was trimmed close to his jaw and rose from his head in soft curls. Now within clear earshot of the walls, he raised his gaze to the men atop them. Each of the group felt his eyes fall upon them, a mutual threat assessment, before they slid onward to the next man.

“I speak for the Leveler.” the young man called out, in accented but fluent Light. “The Leveler opposes the Enlightened tyrants; she has no quarrel with you. Lay down your arms and we can have peace!”

The officer who had recently cursed his nervous bowmen spat over the wall, and shouted back. “We did have peace, until you assholes came marching over!”

Davin rested his hands on the rough stone of the battlements and frowned. “They know we’ve got mages too. If we take those bastards out, the ordinary ground-pounders won’t dare attack for a while. I wouldn’t run out there where we can’t support you, though. You can’t collect all your lovely reward money if you’re dead.”


* * * * * *

Back at the temple, the five Enlightened watched their rag-tag army disperse towards the walls. They turned as soft, barefooted steps announced the mer ambassador stepping out to join them, unnoticed by the clearing crowd below.

“Well, fish.” the Scorpion muttered. “If you want to see how much of a threat the Leveler and her army are, they’re right outside.”

The red haired mermaid smirked as she moved closer and for a moment a sensation passed right into the mind of the dark skin man. It was brief, but he could feel something crawling upon his skin to which he tried his best not to make a scene of.

“What’s wrong with you?” the Crone snapped, as Scorpion started violently.

“She’s using runecraft on me!” the Scorpion barked back, his eye still twitching in a madman’s blink. He rounded on the ambassador. “I swear by the Shattered Gods, if you do that again…”

But the mer was no longer standing next to him.

As the ambassador moved forward, it was the blue lady that hasten her stepped and stood in front of her, holding her in place.

“You better wear this.” she said, removing one of the acolytes’ masks and slapping it upon the shapeshifter’s face.

“Sacrilege!” complained the Hunchback.

“Common sense.” the Blue Lady retorted.

She also moved the robe around the mer’s shoulders, and tightened it closely. While the mermaid was now in human form, there were still marks upon her skin that would cause those who knew enough of the old tales to notice that she was not in fact a simple human being - and with all the havoc playing outside, further provocation was the last thing the Enlightened willed.

They were soon by the porch and looked down at the towering pyramid before them. Their little quarrels did not escape the mer’s eyes and she simply grunted without saying anything further. She did look up to the blue lady, now with a mask covering her cold expression, waiting for further instruction on what she should be educated about regarding the current human’s deeds.

“Come.” said the Blue Lady, beckoning. “It’s best if you see for yourself.”

“I’ll come too.” growled the Scorpion, narrowing his eyes. “I’m watching you, fish.”

They walked down the steps of the pyramid and across the now-empty plaza. Beyond the streets were in chaos, but as soon as they saw the Blue Lady’s robes and the Scorpion’s banded armour they parted like waves around a rock, scrambling aside and falling to their knees in supplication.

“Bless us, Enlightened Ones!” they begged, reaching out towards the two, and even towards the ambassador in her concealing snake mask, “Keep us safe! Keep us safe!”

When they reached the outer walls they were already fully manned, archers and mages standing to atop the battlements. Their attention was focused outwards, the three holy figures unnoticed.

“They do not notice us?” the mer asked confused, “Should we make ourselves known to them?”

The Blue Lady chewed the inside of her cheek, perhaps picturing the mer strolling up onto the battlements to introduce herself. “Perhaps we should...observe for now.”

The dark skinned Scorpion merely grunted, “You can observe all you want, but this is not the time for that.” He looked at the direction of the mer, before reaching for the direction of one the pillars. With a swift draw of the curved dagger in his belt, he cut one of the supporting pillar’s ropes which held up a colourful banner and stormed forward, carrying the rope on his back. He then held it out for the two ladies.

“Hold tight!” he said as he checked to see how strong the hold of it was. And without further ado, he jumped forward, letting the rope slide behind him.

“I like him.” said the mer, jumping forward, while holding on the other end of the rope.

The Blue Lady simply shook her head. “You don’t have to live with him.” Nevertheless, she soon followed suit.

Kiro Akira
05-26-2018, 01:41 PM
Solar listened to ever so boring speech and yawned lightly. "Taking forever." He said and closed his eyes trying to picture something aside from this crazy situation. He hated meetings of sorts and hated listening to numerous people talk about to him seemed like nothing. He couldn't even remember the beginning of the meeting. It all seemed rather quiet boring to him.

It was at this thought things had picked up and a lady waltzed up and strung vines with thorns and pretty flowers. That was a fancy rune to have he could admit but it still didn't make up for the whole meeting as a whole in itself. Yet the boy focused on this woman and then to the fancy vines.

Solas felt himself growing antsy to get things moving along just when someone bursted through the door claiming that The Leveler was coming. "Thank god, we can do something besides stand here." He muttered to himself.

Solas rushed to the front door of the building and looked outside. All he could see was streets but he could smell something in the air, it smelled off of course and he could feel it in his bones. “Let’s get a decent view of the bastards coming to kill us.” a voice echoed behind him and Solar turned to see one of the men making his way to the roof top. Solar had been one of the first to follow and quickly scale his way to the top.

Once he was on top he looked to the archers who were by far a terrible shot and frowned. How could they do anything if they can't even pick at least one person off with a WHOLE army before them. "If only we had wind runes. Could carry those arrows right over to them and probably strike a few down in one fell swoop." He spoke mainly to the group gathering and continued staring down at everything.

His eyes focused on the 'new' found group making their way ahead of everyone. A rather small group had made their way up ahead and seeing rather cocky on their abilities. As he looked over the town he made note of vantage points. Spots where he could easily get the drop on one or two people.

One man in the small group stepped forwards. And damn was he ugly. Solas could see that from this point and he was a good distance away. Yet he had begun speaking "on behaf of The Leveler" claiming peace for all and stuff. After one man had spoke about how they caused destruction and we had peace before them he followed up their remark. "Yo jack ass! Pick on someone your own size. Go back to your little army and screw off! Don't wanna kill you here mate!"

The one man who lead them up here and made the first remark, spoke of taking them out. Which he enjoyed the idea of and seconded it. "Sounds about right doesn't it? Just like in the books, bad guy wants nothing but piece but causes destruction. Now on whats his names idea."

Solar paused once more on his thought process and scanned the buildings between him and the army. "This is my home so I know my ways around here. Not sure about you guys, but hey they want to fight we can tear through them right away. Theres a few vantage points here to give us an edge."

While Solas had no idea if they were even listening to him he still spoke as if he had his own little fun plan all planned out and won the battle. "Now.... I have a fun little rune that can give a lightning strike and fry their bodies if you'd like. But well, not only does it take like five minutes to cast. But it takes an ass load out of me, blinds me in one eye and leaves me pretty much knocked the fuck out."

Solar knew he may have been giving way to much info to the strangers but he really didn't want to deal with a group of mages all at once they were a pain enough when it came to battle. Not to mention last time he fought a group he lost the feeling in his right arm. Which still held a tingly feeling periodically where very few nerves spark a sense of feeling here and there. It was annoying and a bit painful. "Anywho, up to you people. Not fighting those guys on my own."

Underblank
05-26-2018, 06:02 PM
***24 hours before traveling to the Enlightened City***
“What has my life become? Why am I stuck in this shithole of a situation... will they even let me back into the Enlightened city or deem me as a traitor... why must I suffer through this torment of having a power hungry father and no mother ... why have the gods punished me... just.... why.”

Sage was restless as the leveler was making plans to send her army to the city of Enlightened. She had no intention of joining this parade, but her father forcefully made her as it was “a way to better her skill.” It was physical and mental torment in the City of Ash. Constant talk of peace and taking down other tyrants, enslaving the people for power... all of this was not what Sage believed in.
“Cmon Sage, get your ass up and get ready. We depart to the enlightened city shortly,” a stern voice said. It was Blaine, Sage’s father. She couldn’t stand the sight of him. Everything about him makes her uneasy. All she can see is the man who took her mother’s life. This man was a prime example of what greedy mages do for power, but Dage has determined never to follow that path.

“Listen here, if you EVER speak in my direction or give me the slightest stare, it’ll be your last,” Sage threatened as she pushed herself off of her bed to gather her things. As she gathered her sword and her clothes, Blaine began to laugh. “Shut the hell up girl. You’re just like your mother. All bark and no bite. Just be a good girl and do what the leveler and daddy tell you to.” Fury began to radiate from Sage’s body as she drew her rapier and held it at Blaine’s throat. “I guess you’ll never learn,” Sage said as she ran the blade across his throat, only drawing a little blood, “next time you won’t be so lucky,” she exclaimed as she stormed out of the house and began to meet with the others.

***The arrival at the Enlightened City***
This... this was home. As the army made its way to the wall, tears fell from Sage’s eyes as she marveled in the city’s beauty. “Dry those tears girl. No need to waste them on such meager things,” one mage said as he placed his hand on her shoulder. She felt the warm sensation radiating from his hand as some sort of soothing method. She simply smiled, wiped away her tears, and began to march on.

After several minutes, the army halted as the group of mages and herself detached from the group to make their claim. “I speak on behalf of the leveler...” they young man said as he began to speak. Sage knew that this was never going to go anywhere. She knew that there was about to be a war that she would half to fight on the other side for. She knew what she had to do in order to get back into her home... but the choices weren’t so pleasant.

Scottie
05-28-2018, 07:10 PM
The wanderer was no stranger to broken promises but she desperately wished to not waste a day listening to the prattle of egotistical cowards. It was a display of wealth that she had never encountered before. Rose petals drifted towards the crowd as the golden masks glinted against the harsh sunshine. ‘Bow’ was met with a sharp scoff of disapproval and her eyes rolled towards Davin as he tried to pass their words off as nothing much. A pale woman drifted forward from the shadows and with the raising of her arms, flowers sprouted and filled the air was a sickening stench. “Waste not, want not.” Left her dry lips in response to Davin’s words.

A small group slowly crept into the sunlight. The wanderer let their words drift over her, the ritualistic drivel something that she cared little for. She recognised a few words spat in anger and her eyes snapped back to the man who let them leave his lips. Her fingers crept back to curling around the axe on her back, a sharp hiss leaving her lips. How dare he let his own stupid prejudice fill his words when many dotted through the crowd were from that land...and had come to help this city. The wanderer was not stupid, power radiated from the man...but his face was firmly etched in her skull for future reference.

Her fingers stayed tight around her axe. She feared the crowd more than the individual. “Your gods maybe” Her words were spat at the woman high above them. The gods were clearly on the side of those high above them. They gave them power, wealth, health and the perfect seat to watch the slaughter without blood splattering their royal blue robes. Before another could add to her anger, a war horn sliced through the air. The clinking of armour told her that this was not planned.

The leathered witch screeched as loudly as the horn. Your cue...Not our cue. The wanderer noted that those with power enough to waste...were not joining them. The next few moments were passed by in chaos. The previous fear of crowds was easily dwarfed by the anger piercing itself through her body. They were cattle being lead to the slaughter while the privileged watched from their thrones high above.

“Well that is impressive.” The words left her lips in awe at the army marching towards the city. Any quips by Davin was promptly ignored as her gaze picked out the individual packs of the army before them. Ash men made up that army, she was strangely filled with pride. Those were fellow slaves… armed to the teeth. She knew that they were not truly free...but they certainly had the vague appearance of it.

Wrinkles sprouted by her eyes as she narrowed her gaze at the individuals who left the wriggling mass of soldiers. Mages. She expected that, if the Leveller was as smart as they said...she would have as much power on her side as possible. A soft clunk sounded by her side as she let the head of her pickaxe softly hitting the sandstone, its handle firmly in her grip. It looked like a shimmer from the sun at first glance, but the wanderer knew better than to let her eyes trick her this time.

Her chin raised as the young pup let his eyes drag over them all. She could almost feel the calculations he made, her small stature would have her coined as weak. It was truly entertaining to see the back and forth from the young man on the sand below them and the nervous officers. Before she could respond to Davin’s words of wisdom, one of the men beside her hurled his voice out into the filthy air.

"Yo jack ass! Pick on someone your own size. Go back to your little army and screw off! Don't wanna kill you here mate!" It felt as if her eyes had rolled back into her skull. The side of her pickaxe made contact with the man’s chest in a gentle thud. “ If you aren’t going to make at least viable threats... do not speak, child.” She slowly lowered her axe, her disapproval of Solar could be left to another time. “Vantage points only help us if we bring the fight inside.” She told him bluntly and let her eyes return to the group standing on the roasting sand.

A lightning rune….“I would say no to that.” Her words aimed at Solar without gifting him the courtesy of eye contact. “That woman down there did something. I don’t know what...but something. I would bet...my right arm..that just one of them holds the same power as all of us combined.” Her eyes rolled to Davin and waited for the nod that was surely to come. They would not send out mages that held the power of paint to attack a city wall. These ones meant business...and the wanderer was sure that they could easily bring down the wall..this was merely a courtesy warning.

“One speaks for the Leveller...one should speak for the city...but not you.” The wanderer turned her gaze back to the hot headed one who screeched out. He was letting his love for his home get the better of him. She cared little for this city...she would do. The wanderer knew that the man speaking for the army before them was not from the city of Light, she had heard how his lips curled around the “r”’s to know he was from somewhere within her city.

“Fine. But I am not fighting ashmen without speaking to them first.” The wanderer’s voice scratched in her throat as she shuffled her feet against the sandstone. One weathered hand was pressed onto Davin’s shoulder without his permission as she hauled herself on top of the wall. “Fuck me, this is high up.” A single jolt of fear hit her stomach before she cleared her throat. From the new view, she could clearly see the mages...but also the army behind them. The wanderer knew that many of them would be freed slaves...never having fought in a war before. They didn’t deserve this life...forced to be slaves to another. Forced to fight in someone else's war.

Her voice was harsh, she spoke not in Light but in her native Ash. “I speak to the Ash men before me.” The wanderers voice was clear and loud, fighting its way through the soup like air to the army before them. Her chin was held high as her knuckles turned white around the axe that hung by her side. “Your freedom is a lie. You have merely found yourself a new master. You will lose this fight...and new whips will score your backs. Free yourselves before it is too late.”

Azazeal849
05-30-2018, 01:51 PM
Sage knew what she had to do in order to get back into her home...but the choices weren’t so pleasant.

The wind gusted around her motionless group, tugging at cloaks and swirling tiny dust-eddies around their feet. Sage saw the young man - the Leveler’s speaker, her Apprentice - chew the inside of his cheek as his words were met with abuse from the walls; first from a Light officer, and then from a young red-haired mage who stood among the archers.

“They say no, then.”

The observation came from the Blademaiden as she clasped her hands behind her back. Everything about the female mage radiated control, from the wiry muscles corded through her nut-brown arms to the cloth wrapping that bound her hair close to her head.

“Too much talk.” growled the Burning. His lips were parted somewhere between a smile and a grimace, grinning through the scars of old wounds and magical injury that had ruined his face. Sage saw his hands twitching as the ghosts of flames danced between his fingers.

“I agree with the Burning.” said the man clad in red, his eyes slitted as he frowned up at the city wall. His hands were twitching too, but it was an involuntary motion; nerves misfiring from the damage of too much channelling. The fate that awaited all wizards, if they used their powers too extensively. The man saw Sage looking, and balled his fist to halt the twitching.

“This whole charade is a waste of time.” he opined, clenching his jaw against a muscle spasm ticking in the side of his neck.

The Apprentice pulled his eyes away from the wall, half-turning his head to regard the red mage. His expression was grim, but resolute. “The Leveler wanted us to offer them a chance.”

“The Leveler will have her prize.” whispered the Dark Man, the last of their group to speak. He was hooded and cloaked despite the heat, and the only parts of him visible beneath his hood were his pallid jaw and blue-grey lips. “Whether the Lightmen resist or not.”

“Look.” the Blademaiden interrupted, nodding her head towards the wall. A lone woman was climbing up onto the battlements, and as they watched she called out to them - not in the slurring tongue of the Lightmen, but in their own native Ash.

The man in red looked back over his shoulder at the soldiers ranked behind him, though none of them moved, and the Dark Man let out a hissing sound through his pale teeth. The Apprentice merely watched the woman, his fists resting silently against his sides.

“She doesn’t understand.” he said, almost regretfully. “But she will.” He turned away from the wall towards the man in red. “Redmoor, it’s time for the demonstration.”


* * * * * *

The Wanderer and the others saw the young man turn away, and an older mage clad in red step forward in his place. His hands were raised into the air before him. Sensing an imminent attack, the Light officer further down the wall shouted, “Loose!”

Arrows nocked and ready against their bows, the archers hauled back their bowstrings and let the iron-tipped missiles fly. In the same instant the dark-skinned woman standing among the emissaries threw up a hand, and the arrows struck some kind of invisible barrier above the red mage’s head, shattering and spalling away in pinging fragments.

The red mage grinned. “My turn!” he shouted up at the walls. He spread his arms wide, and there was a thunderous cracking sound.

Looking down, the mages atop the walls saw the ground undulate - twisting and arching upwards like a living thing. The mages felt the stone battlements beneath their feet shudder, and splintering cracks snaked up the inside of the mighty walls. The red mage lifted his arms like a conductor before an orchestra, and the ground heaved upward. The stones crumbled away below the group’s feet, and they fell.


* * * * * *

The Wanderer was thrown from the battlements just as the huge wall split open, spilling out the rocks and rubble that had been used to fill the space between the inner and outer stonework. It poured in a wave that became a slope, the Wanderer tumbling down it to land hard on her front on the sun-baked earth ten metres below. Everything was dust - a blinding, choking haze thrown up by the collapsing stone. All she could hear were screams and shouted orders, punctuated by sharp hisses of arrow fire.

As she blinked her vision back to clarity, she saw a figure striding through the smoke towards her. It was the young man who had spoken before the walls, his black hair and tawny skin now mottled with grey by the spreading dust cloud. His roughspun shawl was looped around his shoulders, a necklace of runestones rattling beneath it as he walked. He wore a silk scarf around his neck, and leather bands etched with the spiky glyphs of Ash writing decorated his wrists. He looked down at the Wanderer with dark eyes.

“You’re a good speaker.” he said in Ash as he marched through the smog towards her. “But who are you to lecture us about freedom?”


* * * * * *

The Wraith fell, landing among clattering stone fragments next to the gaping hole that had been the east gate. Next to him a Light archer shrieked, clutching at a broken leg. Through the slanted eye-holes of his mask he could only see shadows, indistinct figures running amid the pall of dust thrown out by the wall’s collapse.

“Form up!” he heard one of them shout in Light, and he realised that they were allied mercenaries moving to plug the breach in the wall.

Then he heard laughter, and a rushing sound as if the world itself had sucked in a breath of horror. Then a wall of flame blasted through the breach, engulfing the defenders. They reeled back screaming, their armour and their hair ablaze. A robed figure strode through the fallen wall, surrounded by dust cast into mesmerising swirls by the backdraft of his fire spell. His face was an eroded mass of scar tissue, and through it he was grinning.

He locked eyes with the Wraith and raised a gnarled hand to point at him. He spoke Light, but his accent was the hard-edged staccato of the Ashmen. “Now you.”


* * * * * *

The Raven felt a breath of hot air scorch over him as some kind of fire rune washed past - not close enough to harm him, but definitely too close for comfort. It was enough to pull him from the daze that falling from the wall had left him in, and he clambered to his feet in time to register the iron-masked Wraith being engaged by one of the Leveler’s wizards. Before he could aid him though, he realised that he had a problem of his own.

A woman dressed in loose black and looping gold bracelet chains was stalking towards him, a curved scimitar gripped in her hand. A Light mercenary tried to block her path, but his sword lunge was turned aside with an expert sweep, and countered by a slash that cut down from the man’s right shoulder to his left hip, hard enough to send him tumbling to the ground in a graceless roll. Even as the man spasmed and coughed blood, a Light archer near Raven scrambled for an arrow and loosed. It hissed through the air like a striking cobra, only to spin away as it deflected off a barrier spell floating six inches in front of the woman’s face. The archer still had a look of shocked horror on his face as the woman crossed the gap between them with swift strides and hacked him down.

Then she turned towards the Raven.

A soft smile played over the woman’s lips as she brought her sword vertical, touching the crosspiece to her face in salute. She lashed the blade out to the side, holding it wide as she advanced towards him.


* * * * * *

Caught at the very edge of the crack fissuring up through the wall, the Archer crabbed frantically sideways as the stonework to his right sloughed away, taking his companions with it. Around him Light archers and mercenaries were yelping as they clung to the battlements and tried to keep their feet. An officer staggered back, arms pinwheeling frantically for a handhold, before plunging with a scream into the street below.

The Archer had no time to search the dust-shrouded rubble below him to see if his companions had survived. He felt the distinctive, teeth-itching prickle of magic in the air, and looked over the cracked battlements to see one of the enemy mages, the one cloaked all in black, walking towards the wall. No, not walking, the Archer realised, drifting - his feet were dragging a few centimetres above the sun-baked earth. As he watched the black mage glided up into the air, floating towards the battlements where he stood.

The Archer felt some dark spell pulse through the air, and the Light soldiers around him who had managed to keep their footing atop the wall suddenly crumpled, wailing and clawing at their faces. The Dark Man floated slowly closer, his arms held slightly away from his sides, his ghost-pale palms turned towards the Archer.


* * * * * *

Solar blacked out for a moment, only to awake coughing in the tumbled ruins of the east gate. One mercenary beside him was dead, crushed under a falling stone slab, while another pawed at him with a wordlessly pleading hand as he curled around his two broken legs.

The street in front of Solar was in chaos, with Light soldiers crying out from where they lay on the ground, or else stumbling over themselves to get away from the terrifying runecraft that was being unleashed. Standing alone and untroubled by the chaos was a mage dressed in a red robe, belted with fine leather. At one hip hung a rune pouch, and at the other a curved dagger. His skin was a faded olive and his hair black with streaks of grey, streaks which were also threaded through his neat beard and long, bead-clasped moustaches.

The red wizard’s neck twitched slightly, and he folded his arms as he surveyed the scene around him.

“Hmph.” he mused to himself. “This is the great city of the Enlightened?”

He did not seem to have noticed Solar.


* * * * * *

“Shoot him!” the Blue Lady screamed at the archers around them, and pulled back her fist to hurl a spell of her own, right before the wall heaved and dissolved beneath her feet. All three of them fell, the Blue Lady, the Scorpion and the Ambassador together, and a dozen other screaming Light soldiers with them.

The Blue Lady twisted like a cat, throwing her hands downward. A wide circle of the unpaved earth below them turned dark and glistening, and the Ambassador splashed down into a pool of thick, soupy mud. She sank into it almost instantly, and was spat back up a second later next to her coughing, cursing guardians. The Lightmen who had fallen outside the radius of the spell were not so fortunate, landing on the hard ground with bone-crunching thuds.

Pieces of broken stone rained down around them. One struck the Blue Lady as she struggled to rise and she fell in a splash of wet sand, blood streaming from under her pleated hair.

“Blue!” the Scorpion called out in shock. The Blue Lady moaned, her eyes scrunched closed as she clutched at the wound above her ear.

The Scorpion’s head snapped round, towards the roar and hiss of runes being cast as the Leveler’s mages advanced into the city. He gritted his teeth.

“You stay here, fish.” he snarled at the Ambassador as he lurched to his feet.


* * * * * *

The Illusion met no resistance as she clambered over the sunken foundations, which were all that was left of this section of the wall. Among the once-proud rubble, Lightmen were coughing, shouting, and screaming in pain.

No sooner had she stepped into the city then a fan of black needles ripped past her, whistling as they buried themselves into a still-standing section of the wall. Wheeling round to face the attack, she was greeted by the sight of a man - dressed in banded leather, streaked with mud and wet sand. Behind him, a woman in a soiled blue gown and one of the Lightmen’s gold-masked snake priests struggled in a pool of mud. The man’s broad, chiselled features were twisted into a mask of fury.

“You bitch.” he cursed her. “You think you heretics can simply walk into our city!?”

He drew his arm up across his chest, and then flung it out towards her. Another spread of glistening black needles materialised out of the air and screeched towards the Illusion.

Kiro Akira
06-04-2018, 05:40 PM
Solar looked to the ground beneath him as it began to crumble. His position shifted as he was ready to run and then took notice to the crumbling that crept closer with a quick pace. "Shit!" Solar shouted before attempting to fall back to a section that wasn't crumbling. Yet as his foot touched the edge he felt it give beneath him sending him tumbling down to the ground.

The mage coughed from the dust filling his lungs. It was dry and rough on his throat and he fought to get it out crawling a bit from under a piece of fallen stone. With a grunt he managed to push one out the way and slowly stood up using the stone as a support to lift his figure. So much power built into one mage. And not even a shimmer in their power.

As he stood, Solar took a glance around. It was hard to see as the debris was settling but he could make out figures. Beside him he could see the dust moving with stones stacked on top. Just beneath it was a soldier or mercenary? He wasn't sure but he could see their hand reaching up to him just before falling back to the ground. Crushed by the rubble Solar only leaned down and motioned his hands over their eyes to close them giving them a nod. "May you find peace with the broken gods." He spoke gently and looked over to his other side as he could see a few more fallen men. One was even crawling out and screaming in agonizing pain from his crushed legs.

Solar grunted and empowered his palm with a blazing ball of fire. His eyes focused on the wizard and he took aim and threw it straight towards him. The force cleared a small but noticeable hole through the debris as it flew in the mages direction. "Alright jackass! You want to deal with some mages then lets go. Get the fuck out of my city!"

The fireball struck the mage square in the back, splashing cinders across his thick robe. The man staggered forward with a grunt of pain, that turned into an a dismissive growl as he turned and saw the young wizard standing opposite. He rolled his shoulders, his head jerking slightly to one side as his neck muscles spasmed.

"Go home, boy." the red mage growled, and flicked his wrist in a quick turn. The gesture tore a piece of broken stone the size of Solar's head up from the ground and sent it flying through the air towards him.

Solar rolled his own shoulders and began stepping directly towards the man. He could see that his fireball struck him dead on. Without hesitation he whirled another one in his palm and slung it in his direction. This one had missed him by a few feet. "Go home? You want me! To go home?"

With the finish of his sentence a stone came whirling in his direction. Solar met the boulder with his palm out, just for it to strike his hand and shatter into a bunch of tiny stones. The remainder of the stone was dropped to the ground. In Solar's hand was a stone just the size of a baseball. His hand stung from the initial blast but it quickly receded as the nerves in his hand fluctuated. The one good thing that came out of his right arm was the fact he had very little feeling. "This IS my home. Not yours!"

Solar clenched the stone in his hand and threw it in the opposing mages direction. As he completed the throw he spun and swooped down grabbing a hand full of rocks and merged them together with his stone power. With the new stone he aimed and threw this one as well following it up with another fireball. It seemed like basic magic but Solar could see a slight blur to his right eye as it continued. He was only just getting started.The mage could see clearly with his left eye and made sure he did his best not to show.

The red wizard threw up a fist, and in response the earth in front of him tore upwards in a curtain of sand and earth clods. Solar’s fireball burst against it, raining fire-blackened dust, and his hurled rock cracked off another stone within the seething mass before spiralling away.

The older mage opened his hand, and the wall of rocks collapsed to the ground in a seething rattle.

“Not mine?” he proclaimed, now striding towards Solar with his red robe snapping about his thin limbs. “I am Redmoor. Wherever I choose to walk is mine.”

The ground beneath Solar’s boots suddenly shifted, bulging upward and threatening to throw him from his feet.

Solar shook his head when the man said where he walks it belongs to him. "Maybe the specks of dust stuck on your boots but this is not your home." The mage reached down grabbing the rubble at his feet and quickly melded it together into one large rock. With a focus of energy the rock was set ablaze as he connected two of his runes' abilities into one and threw the flaming rock towards the man.

He would be damned if he let someone else invade his home and then take it from him. This guy irked him and obviously looked as if he held more power then him. Solar could see the skies filling with smoke from the destruction and debris in the air. He wanted to use his other rune but knew it would only end bad and not to mention the one wizard even told him it was a bad idea seeing they had some form of barrier magic in the air.

Redmoor raised his hand, palm outward. He gritted his teeth and the flaming ball of rock slowed, and then stopped to hang suspended in the air, spitting fire and sparks.

"Someone needs to learn to shut their mouth." he admonished, and swept his other arm across his body. A huge brick of sandstone that had crumbled from the wall suddenly bowled across the ground, swiping Solar's legs out from under him. Redmoor twitched, the spasm pulling his lips into something like a sneer as he raised his fist high and then hammered it down, ripping a chunk of stone free of the wall to land with a crunch atop Solar's chest. More rocks rained down, slowly but surely pinning the younger mage in place.

"So who's home is it then?" the red mage asked conversationally as he struggled. "Yours? Then you can lie there and watch it fall to the new order."

He turned dismissively on his heel, red robes swirling, and began to walk away.

Solar grimaced at the pain from falling flat on his back. Before the mage could react he could see the rubble from above dropping straight onto his chest. Soalr cringed with the pain now pulsing through his entire body. What power could one man hold to bring such a large stone onto him.

With an attempt to move his right arm he noticed no movement could be made. Both arms were pinned and he could feel the pain from the left side. Yet the right held none at all. With a cringe he managed to use his rune to crumble the rock from around his left arm and then moved to the stone on his chest. With a touch he crumbled the stone across his chest little at a time.

He knew he didn't have enough energy to fight any longer but he was going to try his best. With a decent amount left on him, he could just barely see the man who turned. He cringed at the pain once more and adjusted a little underneath the stone. It would be a stupid idea and that was for sure but he wouldn't let this guy walk away unscathed. Solar hadn't even left a single mark on the man. "Won't be watching shit fall today."

He spoke with the last bit of energy and effort he had. His will power surely over powering his actual abilities as he raised his right arm and the lightning crackled at his finger tips. Solar focused his energy and watched the vision fade before his right eye. While his right arm had little to no feeling he could surely feel the energy pulsing through it.

With a flash of light the mage let his arm fall with a bolt of lightning aimed directly at the man. Completely unsure if he even struck the man he was sure he would at least damage him. Yet Solar laid their for a moment seeing the lightning strike the ground just before his vision faded leaving him to lay beneath the bit of rubble on top of him

Scottie
06-05-2018, 07:35 PM
“Wait.” Her pitiful attempt at stopping them flew over the archers heads. The Wanderer did not have to watch the arrows miss their target, she could see the failure in the fearful reaction of the men who had loosed those arrows. Her gaze flicked back to the small gathering of mages just in time for the wall to crumble beneath her feet. Before the earth would only move when she struck it with her pick, now it folded like sand with a flick of a man’s arms.

The heat seared itself onto the flesh of her stomach and arms. Dust crept into every pore and the air was torn from her lungs. The wanderer blinked slowly, dirt clinging to her eyelashes. A man was walking towards her, the heel of her palm was pressed into the burning earth as she pushed herself to her feet. Her axe lay a few steps before her but the dust refused to settle.

“You’re a good speaker.” he said in Ash as he marched through the smog towards her. “But who are you to lecture us about freedom?”

Her gaze was glued to her axe, not even his pathetic words warranted eye contact.

“I am no one.” The words left dry lips, her eyes remaining on her sole comfort. “I lecture no one.” There was something smug in his tone, in the way he strode through the smog as if he owned the very ground he walked upon. Her fingers twitched as she desperately wanted her axe back within her tight grip. One worn shoe shuffled forward, her right hand moved to cup the air. A harsh breath was taken in through her nose and her fingers turned claw like. The dust in the air halted before her.

“I was merely informing them...informing those that you enslaved once again, that their freedom is a lie.” Rage had its dirty fingers tight around her throat as her fingers tensed closer to each other. Dust slowly drifted away from her body, moving like a curtain from her form. Congregating around her like a dirty glow, only when all the dust had shifted did she gift him eye contact. A deep seated fury was etched in the green of her eyes. Another shuffling step and her left hand copied her right, her knuckles slowly turning white with the tension. “But who are you to take their freedom hm?” Her head jerked back to the city revealed by the rumbling wall behind her.

“Take their freedom?” the young mage looked up, following her line of sight. “We take no-one’s freedom. Only those who enslave themselves by standing with corrupt tyrants like the Enlightened need fear the Leveler’s wrath.”

He began to pace up and down before her, like a caged lion; his head turning to keep his eyes on her.

“We are here as liberators.”

A sharp twist of her wrists and the settled dust beneath her axe vibrated violently. It held just enough power for the axe to lurch to arm height. Her fingers gripped the handle and she left it pointing at the newcomer. She had been in the city mere hours, she hadn’t received a single warm welcome from this place but she would not let its people meet the same fate as the army who stood before her.

“Tell me stranger, who are you?”

A smile tugged at one corner of the young man’s mouth. “I am the Leveler’s Apprentice. Under the old rulers of Ash I was nothing. Now I have runes of my own to break the chains of the Valley. That is what the Leveler offers these Lightmen. I know the Enlightened are paying you, because that’s how they operate. They buy with gold or they threaten with their so-called divine authority. You’re not even from this city - I can tell by your accent. Wouldn’t you rather fight for something better than just money, for someone who would actually see your worth?”

The arrogance in the young pup before her was overwhelming. “And under the new rulers of Ash...you are nothing.” Her words sickly sweet as they dripped from her lips. “You are exactly the type of man that those behind you would grind into the dirt if given the chance.” Her gaze momentarily shifted to the crowd standing still behind the ‘Apprentice’. The Wanderer’s jaw tensed as he plucked the true reason that she was fighting this fight….for gold. She raised an eyebrow as he blatantly tried to sway her to his side.

The Apprentice shook his head, his expression hardening. “How little you know.” He ceased in his pacing, his fists clenched in fervour. “We have strength and purpose. Tell me, sister of Ash. What do you have?”

Nothing. She had nothing but the clothes on her back, the axe in her hand. She didn’t yet know if she could trust those she travelled with. She didn’t have the purpose that this stranger had. A small smirk tugged itself onto her lips, strength was one thing she did have.

“I have nothing. So I have nothing to lose. I stand before you not for those fucking Enlightened, they could rot for all I care. I stand before you as one of the last defences of the children in this city...the mothers, the fathers, the elderly. That will surely perish in your….liberation.”

Her axe swung down beside her side and the dust surrounding her shifted. The flecks of dust were beckoned to her left hand. “But I am pleased you see my worth.” The smallest of smirks tugged itself onto her lips as the dust by her hand formed into a tight spinning ball of grit.

“You have the right heart.” the Apprentice admitted. His lips were pressed together in a thin line, the muscles in his arms tense. “But if you won’t listen to reason then we have nothing more to say to each other.”

He let out the slightest chuckle, a soft exhale of breath.

“And I don’t suppose you’re going to run.”

“I’ve run far too much from men like you.”

Perhaps it was the ego that radiated from him, the smug smile he gave her, the suggestion that she should run….it all reeked of something that she left behind. The veins on her hands strained under her skin. The pick axe head dropped to the ground, dragging through the sand as she paced before him. Every speck of dust that burst upwards was captured in the bubbling ball of dust that spun by her side.

The Apprentice tilted his head to one side, cracking his neck. He was no longer amused. “Men like me?”

The Wanderer gently shook her head. “Monsters like you. Pitiful excuses for men.” Sweat was dripping down her forehead, standing directly under the sun was taking its toll on her. “Men who steal others freedom. Men who tear flesh from the people they own. No..not men.” The Wanderer stopped her axe from scoring the earth and raised it to point at the stranger once again. “Slavers. They are not worthy of being called men. They are monsters... exactly like you.”

The rune-spell came without warning. An invisible force, like a chain that had suddenly wrapped around her waist and yanked backwards, lifted her up and slammed her into what was left of the city wall. Her back hit the rough sandstone with a crunch, the force pinning her against it like a huge hand.

“Slaver?” the Apprentice rasped, biting down hard on the end of the word. The muscles in his throat ticked, as if he was struggling to swallow.

He stalked up the slope of tumbled rubble towards the Wanderer, his shoes digging hard into the gravel. Dust billowed around him like a stormcloud. He began to tear at the scarf around his neck, and then at the leather bindings around his wrists, throwing them furiously aside. Underneath, his wrists were scored by ragged white scar tissue - manacle marks.

“Do you see this?” he screamed at the Wanderer, flecks of spit flying from his lips. He jerked his head to one side and clawed at the edge of his shawl to reveal another ugly patch of scarring on the side of his neck. It was the kind of scar left by a strip of skin being torn away. A strip of skin that might have once held a slave brand.

“I kill slavers!” he shouted through the dust-choked air between them, and the Wanderer felt the invisible pressure constrict around her ribs. “You’re about to die to a slave, you bitch!”

Hot stale breath was torn from her lungs as her back made contact with the crumbling wall. The power she had seen so far...was nothing compared to this. Fear started to trickle through her body as she failed to pry herself from the wall. Her left hand was frozen in it’s claw like form, the dust storm left behind where she had stood moments ago.

If his reveal was meant to shock her...it failed. If anything, it forced rage to triumph over the fear in her stomach. He knew exactly what that life was like and he would force this city into it. “Are you so blind?” Her next breath was harsh. Invisible chains felt like they were digging into her flesh.

The Wanderer knew he expected a pitiful plea for her life but instead he was gifted a deep growl. Rumbling from deep within her chest as her left hand snapped to facing skyward. The dust clouding between them shot towards the screeching Apprentice. Clinging to his clothing, staining his skin...crowding into his open mouth and fighting to get past his eyelashes. The man let out a cry of alarm that turned into a choking cough.

“If you th...think I will let c...chains take my breath again... .You are a f.fool.” Her words fought past the dust that was attempting to creep into his ears.

The Apprentice twisted away, eyes screwed shut against the simple but effective runecraft, and the pressure against her chest suddenly evaporated.

Her fingers were close to touching each other as she forced the dust to create as much annoyance as possible. The pressure against her chest was lifted and she fell forward. Her forehead nearly brushed the sand as her left hand unfurled to catch herself. Sharp harsh breaths were dragged past chapped lips before her gaze snapped up to the man before her.

The dust slowly subsided as the Wanderer pushed herself to her feet. Pausing only for a brief moment, she flipped the axe gently in the air and caught it before pushing herself away from the wall. Worn shoe soles were little relief against the burning sand but she forced herself to run towards the spluttering man.

Down on one knee, the Apprentice cuffed the sand out of his eyes just in time to see her bearing down on him. She got the pleasure of seeing his eyes widen in shock, before he swept his arm violently outward, as if to ward her away, and something smashed her sideways off her feet so that she went tumbling across the cracked earth. The Apprentice coughed and got to his feet, spitting a gummy mixture of saliva and dust onto the ground.

There was something sweet in seeing someone who had previously underestimated her be shocked. Something heavy hit her side and she felt sand burn her skin again. Harsh breaths were forced from her nose as the Wanderer pressed her knee into the sand, pushing herself slowly to her feet. She twisted the axe in her hand as she approached the dust covered man. It pleased her to see how a thin layer of grey clung to his clothing.

The sun caressed her shoulders as sweat glistened on her pale skin. “Come on then.”

The Apprentice cuffed his lips with his knuckles, and offered her a smile that was as cold and hard as a dagger cut. He reached out to his right, clawed his hand, and swept it back. Chips of broken stone rose up from the ruins of the wall and hurled themselves at the Wanderer in a stinging hail.

Her gaze was swept in the direction of his over the top gesture. A curse word sat on her lips as she curled herself to the ground. Leaving only her back vulnerable to the attack. Her left hand frantically tensed into a tight fist. A layer of dust rose up, forcing the rocks to slow in their attack and the smaller rocks to falter in their course.

The Wanderer cradled her head against her knees and let the remaining rocks hit their target. Some missed. Not as many as she would have liked. The rocks that hit her flesh would leave her heavily bruised in the days to come. One particularly sharp broken stone sliced past her side, tearing her shirt and forcing the first trickle of blood to stain her skin.

It took more effort than before but she forced herself to stand again. It was a rather familiar sensation, pain pulsing through her back. Her axe was raised before her as she strode purposefully forward, “Try again.”

The Apprentice’s lips were peeled back, teeth gritted as he advanced to meet her. He held up his left hand, and a thunderbolt flash of light seared across the space between them. The Wanderer’s vision exploded and swam with blinding red and purple blotches.

Blinded, she felt a hand close around her neck, flipping her backwards and slamming her back against the ground. The impact drove the breath from her lungs, and she couldn’t draw in another as the hand began to constrict. The other was wrapped around the wrist holding her pickaxe, pinning it down. The vice-like fingers were scarred; rough with calluses and scored with old wound-lines, just like her own.

Her fingernails dug into his hand, her feet weakly kicking out at the sand. The axe was still firmly within her right hand but she couldn’t raise it. The pain and lack of oxygen made her limbs feel heavy. His hand was tight around her wrist making her feel helpless. The hand around her throat was another familiar sensation that she had promised herself that she would never feel again. The Wanderer had pictured her death in many different ways...but this had not been one. Not at the hands of another escaped slave.

The Apprentice’s face swam back into view above her, backlit by the burning sky. His face was twisted into a snarl as he tried to choke the life out of her. Their eyes met in mutual hate, a predator’s target lock. But then the Apprentice’s gaze dropped, sliding down her left cheek. The pressure around her throat receded as he registered the small X branded into her skin - one scar among many, but one with a very specific meaning to the slaves of the Ash city. Master’s favourite.

His fingers slackened for a moment and she could finally drag one feeble breath in.

The hate slid off the Apprentice’s face like a mask, replaced by a look of blank shock. “You too?” he whispered.

She held his gaze for a moment, letting the realisation hit his stomach. Then her left hand twisted his hand away from her throat as her knee made contact with that tender place between his legs. The Apprentice let out a sound that was half a gasp and half a grunt, instinctively folding up as he flinched away from the blow. As his head reeled forward, she lifted her shoulders and snapped her head back to violently headbutt the shocked Apprentice with as much force as she could muster. The other mage tumbled away, still half-curled around his injured groin. Twin rivulets of blood streamed from his nose, shockingly bright against the grey dust coating his skin. Gasping and spitting away the blood from his lips, he tried to rise.

Ragged breaths echoed past her ears. Blood rushed back through her body and she slowly rolled over. Seeing blood pour from his nose made her chuckle softly. The Wanderer pressed the head of her axe into the ground beneath her and used it for leverage to push herself to her feet. She was tired of this fight, she was tired of this old slave who thought her an easy foe. Although shaky on her feet, her gaze was firmly latched onto the Apprentice. Like a predator zoning in on its prey, she crept towards him. Her axe slowly raising to her side, ready to swing.

“Wait…” he implored. She didn’t, and the Apprentice was forced to leap back with arms spread wide, the pickaxe slicing the air centimetres from his stomach. She swung again, and again he just dodged the hissing bronze point. The third time he reached out and closed his fist, twisting it downward. The Wanderer felt the pickaxe jerk as he tried to rip it from her grip. The bronze head dragged sideways and down as she struggled against the invisible runecraft.

“I don’t-” the Apprentice began.

With her main weapon in his grip, she felt trapped. The blade dragged down towards the sand and she promptly let the handle drop from her grip. As he attempted to speak again, she let her fist rear back and swiftly make contact with his jaw. “Fight me.” Using her left hand, she curled it in the scarfs and cloth that covered his chest. Hauling him closer to her and not allowing him to stumble backwards. “You started this...now fight me.” She reared her fist back, ready to hit him again.

The Apprentice raised his hands in defence, but open to block, rather than clenched to strike. His left hand closed around her fist, struggling to hold it back. His right hand caught the wrist of the hand twisted in his clothing. “I won’t fight another slave.”

His sudden change of heart infuriated her. With his grip on her wrist and his other hand stopping her fist, she growled under her breath at him. The Wanderer yanked him closer to her, her nose nearly brushing his. “I am no slave. Not anymore.” Her fist slowly pressed against his, easily moving its way towards his face.

A splintering crack slashed through the air. A jagged line in the earth fissured between the two struggling mages, and the earth bulged upward to fling them apart. As both staggered to retain their footing, the Wanderer saw another of the Ash mages, this one garbed from head to toe in red, striding back out of the city towards them.

“Having fun?” the red mage asked. He was limping slightly, but he smirked through his dark beard and bead-clasped moustaches.

“Wait, Redmoor.” the Apprentice barked, holding up a hand towards the newcomer. “Let her live.”

The wizard called Redmoor frowned, an expression that contorted further as a twitch spasmed his face. “And why?”

“This was a demonstration. We need to give them time to think on it.” The Apprentice was still panting, and cuffed blood from his lips as he raised his right fist towards the sky. Several pulses of light flickered out from him, throwing the three mages’ shadows against the ruined walls as stark black silhouettes. Flash flash. Flash flash.

At the signal, the other Ash mages began to reappear, vaulting over the collapsed wall foundations or streaming back on comet tails of black smoke.

The Apprentice half-turned his head to spit blood onto the ground at his feet. “You’ve seen what we can do. At dawn tomorrow, we’ll be coming back through that breach, with all those spearmen behind us. Welcome us, and you’ll live - you’ll all live. Resist us, and you’ll die.” He looked at the Wanderer, his bloody, dust-streaked face almost pleading. “Don’t resist.”

“Y..You can’t expect me to trust you.” Her words harsh as she kept her eyes on the Apprentice. She knew that when they entered those walls, every member of the Enlightened would be felled in seconds. “I’d rather die free than blindly follow a new master.”

The mage that the Apprentice had called Redmoor grinned at her. “The Leveler has the Greater Moonstone, woman. Your days are numbered.”

Rage filled eyes snapped to the man called Redmoor, “My days have been numbered since birth. I’ve fought through more than you can imagine...I’ve got more fight than you think, you Captain Hook wannabe.”

The red mage smiled without humour, and turned to follow the others as they retreated. “We shall see.”

Price
06-18-2018, 02:57 AM
The figure in the hooded tunic stood silent and still in the presence of the representatives of the Leveler. It seemed that one of the other members of his band of misfit mercenaries had taken it upon herself to speak on behalf of the entire party. While her words were not necessarily directly inflammatory, it was obvious that the situation was escalating and that direct confrontation was inevitable. As such, it did not really catch the Wraith off guard when he was suddenly victim to a powerful runespell that pulled the ground from beneath him and separated from his group while dealing him some damage. He may have been able to prevent the attack altogether had he been proactive, but he wanted to see the power he was up against for himself. Besides that, these strangers were not his foes unless they took first blood.

As the Wraith recovered from the attack and stood to his feet, he let out a soft sigh. “I had no intention of fighting today. In fact, I had hoped to meet this Leveler to judge for myself her true intentions. But you have attacked me unprovoked, and that is not something that I can let stand.”

The fire mage snorted, perhaps not recognising all of the Light words, but recognising enough to understand a challenge. His bare arms flickered, beginning to run with liquid fire.

For the first time, the Wraith let down his hood and displayed his true identity. His reputation had reached far and wide throughout the cities of the Enlightened and the Risen God, but had word of his infamous assassinations, slayings, and other such judgements reached the City of Ash? He was curious to see. From the way the fire mage simply tilted his head - slowly, appraisingly - at the sight of his iron mask, he surmised not.

His fingers curled around the hilts of the swords as he quickly unsheathed them and made ready for a fight. “Prepare yourself for judgement.”

The fire mage laughed with all the charm and warmth of a rockfall. “Prepare yourself for death, Lightman.” He raised his hands to project the fire bleeding from them.

The Wraith began his prayer. “May my feet be swift, my hands steady, my heart pure, my aim true, my vision reliable, and my mind committed. Blessed Ones that have come before, grant me your strength and commend me to your will.”

With a swift motion, the Wraith’s blades sliced the air toward his foe and electricity crackled forth at the target. The Wraith’s intent with the attack was merely to assess whether this opponent possessed defensive magic. After all, he had already seen a fraction of the foe’s offensive capabilities. It was unfortunate, but perhaps he would earn this Leveler’s respect after her lieutenant paid for his sins.

He saw the fire mage’s eyes narrow. His opponent let out an angry shout and slashed his arms outwards, and at the same moment that the Wraith’s lightning jagged forwards there was a burst of fire and light in the space between them. The Wraith felt the pressure wave as it blew outwards, and for an eyeblink he thought he saw a flickering sphere in the air as the explosion snuffed itself in vacuum.

The Wraith’s lightning split and veered through the air as it sought the path of least resistance, fulgurating down to blast small clouds of burnt stone out of the earth. A split-second later the bubble collapsed, air re-filling the vacuum with a thunderclap crack and a reek of ozone from the lightning bolts.

The fire mage’s face was striped by an unattended nosebleed, brought on by his own casting, but he seemed not to care. He smiled like someone who didn’t know what smiles were for. It was a murderer’s smile; a fanatic’s smile. Snatching a scorched spear from the hands of a shrunken, tar-black corpse, he wheeled it above his head as he came for the Wraith.

The Wraith remained fixed in place, allowing the fire mage to charge him unhindered. He had fought hundreds if not thousands of opponents since he was a child, thus any attempt by this Ash devil to intimidate him fell woefully short. From the blood dripping from his opponent's nostrils, the Wraith figured that his foe's defensive vacuum spell was quite strenuous on its caster. The Wraith decided to use that to his advantage as he backed up swiftly, feigning a retreat of sorts as he let loose another bolt aimed at the charging mage’s feet. His enemy sidestepped, pushing off his right foot as the bolt threw up a geyser of dirt and molten sand. The Wraith aimed another three consecutive strikes of lightning at the ground, followed by another blast aimed for the body. He was silent as he did so, focused solely on making his target dance.

The lightning bolts chaining off in front of the fire mage checked his advance. As he stalled, the final bolt earthed itself in his shoulder, spider-webbing a lattice of angry red welts down his bare arm. The mage spasmed back as his muscles contracted, only just catching himself on his back foot. His smile seemed to have frozen on his face as he inhaled through his teeth.

The breath became a chuckle as he slashed the point of his stolen spear downwards, the smouldering bronze head striking the earth. A line of fire traced along the ground towards the Wraith, as if drawn by an invisible, white-hot finger. It split to either side and encircled him, the flames roaring high until their heat was a physical pressure against his uncovered skin. The very air hurt to breathe.

For a brief instant the flames twisted and parted like a curtain - and through the portal leapt the burning mage, fire boiling along the length of his spear as he aimed it straight for the Wraith’s heart.

The Wraith had experienced many powers from many mages in his lifetime, as could be expected from a man who had been at war since he was a boy. Even still, his foe's runes were surely as impressive as they were devastating. He was very thankful for years of his master's hellish training now, as that was the only thing keeping him calm in the presence of this precarious position. As the fire mage leapt through the portal, flying at him with lethal intent, the Wraith only just vaulted over his opponent, the flames singeing the back of his cloak. This battle needed to end, and quickly. He could feel the pain in his chest, in his lungs from the burning intensity and blanket suffocation of the flames. Unfortunately, he would need to use a more powerful rune.

"If you wish to make yourself appear as the devil, then perhaps you should embrace your demons." The Wraith took one sword and slammed the blade into the ground, muttering an incantation. The close proximity of the fire mage made him easy prey to fall into the Reaper's Gaze and surrounding mist. The mage would be forced into hallucinations of his darkest imaginings if caught.

“Gyaah!”

The other mage reeled away, fire streaming in blazing ropes from his arms. They lashed this way and that, engulfing banners and canvas awnings, and leaping up the sides of the tenement buildings. One flare caught the Wraith in its fingers, clawing at his leather armour before an expanding pressure wave blew him back, snuffing the flames even as it hurled him into a mudbrick wall. The air was full of smoke, and through it the Wraith heard a breathless panting sound. The panting became a drawn-out grunt, became a laugh. The fire mage was striding through the rubble towards him, his eyes red with burst vessels and his bared teeth laced with blood. He had lost his spear, the wooden shaft withered to ash in his grip.

“Hnngh. No nightmares for me, Lightman. I fear nothing!”

The fire mage stretched out his lightning-scarred arm, the fingers hooked and closing. The Wraith felt the iron mask against his face begin to grow warm. And then hot. And then burning.


“Lets see what you look like under that mask.” the fire mage rasped over the sound of hissing iron, his scarred face twisted into a manic rictus grin.

A blinding light surged through the abandoned street. Flash flash. Flash flash. A rune-cast light; some kind of signal.

“NO!” the Wraith heard his opponent rage. The burning against his face stopped increasing as the mage relinquished his hold, and then slowly faded as the iron mask began to cool.

“Perhaps tomorrow then, Lightman.” The scarred mage leered at him through a mask of blood. “At dawn, you will meet the judgement of the Leveler...and feel the wrath of the Burning One.”

He turned and limped away into the smoke, embers scattering in his wake.

The Wraith made no movement nor sound until his foe disappeared from the scene. By will alone he remained standing until he was sure that the threat was gone, and only then did he allow himself to sink down on to his knees and intake painful gasps of breath. There was a stabbing ache in his lungs that was overpowered only by the pain of burning flesh from the seared mask. Only moments longer and he would have been permanently disfigured if not simply killed. The Wraith composed himself long enough to rise to his feet and limp toward an alleyway he could only just see through blurred vision while using his swords as crutches. Once there and away from suspicious eyes, he unbuckled his mask and let it fall as his hands felt at his face. He'd have new scarring, but he was spared a worse fate.

Several more minutes of contemplation passed while he collected himself. As difficult as it was, there was one positive to take from this encounter. He had just went toe-to-toe with what he surmised was one of the Leveler's strongest warriors, and he had proven himself to be at least equal in strength. By that line of logic, and if it came down to it, he could handle his own against any of the Leveler's army. On the other hand, that did raise a question. If her entire army was below her in pure strength of power, just how much more powerful was the Leveler herself? With that unsettling thought and with his mind wandering to the well-being of the rest of his band of misfits, the Wraith rose, put on his mask, and limped off towards his best guess of their whereabouts.

Splat
06-21-2018, 05:36 PM
Brannon felt the air rush to escape his lungs as the city wall crumbled beneath his feet. The Leveler's agents disappeared from view as he fell backwards and landed with a heavy thud against the cold ground. Bits of debris assailed his skin, and a huge chunk of the battlements crashed into the ground mere inches from his face. The Raven heard the screams of dying soldiers around him, cut short by the Leveler's forces, but he could do nothing. Suddenly, a wave of blistering heat washed over him, so close that he could feel it singe the hair on his arms. Seconds that felt like hours passed before he could finally rise to his feet and shake away the pain that blurred his vision. The back of his head throbbed like hell and dust from the rubble scratched at his throat, but Brannon was alive.

As he rose from the pile of stones that was once a might barrier, he caught sight of a woman. Dark-skinned and beautiful in a terrifying way, she wielded a curved blade in one hand and moved towards him like a cat on the hunt. Brannon recognized her as one of the five mages representing the Leveler that stood beneath the wall not minutes ago. It felt like a lifetime had passed since then.

A Lightman stepped forth to oppose her, but before Brannon could say anything she cut him down as if he were no more than parchment. Brannon's eyes were led to another Light soldier as he loosed an arrow, and he knew it would be a futile effort as soon as he saw the slight shimmer around the mage's body. Sure enough, the arrow struck the invisible wall and clattered away, and the Light archer soon joined his comrade in the afterlife. A barrier spell? That's hardly fair. The swordswoman set her icy gaze upon Brannon and raised her weapon.

The Raven pursed his lips and unsheathed the sword at his hip. It was old, battered and marked with the bruises of many altercations, but it was a trustworthy weapon. "Now, now," Brannon spoke in Ash before the woman began her attack, "Is it not customary before a duel for the parties to introduce themselves?" He shifted his weight back and forth between his feet and readied himself for the fight. "I am Raven. Which of the Leveler's dogs do I have the pleasure of fighting today?"

The woman seemed pleased to be addressed in her native tongue. "You fight the Blademaiden, sir." she answered, refusing to be goaded. Her actions spoke louder as she skipped to her right, to Brannon's undefended side, and lashed her sword towards his neck.

As the Blademaiden moved, Brannon brought up his sword for a quick parry, and the clash of their blades was drowned in the noise of the surrounding battle. He was tempted to return the attack, but he hesitated, knowing her barrier spell would easily block his weapon. Instead, he decided to make use of his own magic. Brannon extended his hand and felt his body surge with sorcerous power. Spectral, glowing chains whipped out from his hand and flew towards the Blademaiden, vying to bind her arms to her sides. Brannon could only hope that her barrier spell wasn't going to do to his magic what it did to the Lightman's arrow.

There was a crackling sound and a fountain of sparks as magic met magic. The spectral chains struck the barrier rune - and broke it. The Blademaiden twisted aside, sword arm wide for balance. The chain struck her left arm and coiled up like a viper, crushing the limb to her chest with bands of golden light. The other mage stumbled half a step, but caught herself.

"Hm." she said, looking down at the chains, before launching herself at Brannon with one arm bound. Their blades met, twirled apart and then clashed again, and on the third stroke the Blademaiden turned her shoulder and sent Brannon's sword rebounding from his own rune-cast chains before forcing him to leap back from a skewering thrust.

"You have some skill with a blade, Raven." the Ash mage commented as she returned to guard. "And some with runecraft, too."

Brannon couldn't help but smirk at her comment. "I would hope so. Killing mages is my job." He took the short lull in the fight to catch his breath, and marveled at the woman's skill. Even with one arm literally tied, she still managed to put up a hell of a fight.

Taking advantage of the spell while it still held strong, Brannon swiped at the Blademaiden's undefended side. The two warriors had been evenly matched so far; the Raven hoped this would turn the battle in his favor. His opponent parried hard across her body, knocking his sword point wide. He had to duck as she backslashed at his throat. She skipped away to his left and aimed a killing cut at his spine.

Brannon spun on his heel and jolted backwards, his eyes straining to follow the Blademaiden's movements. Her sword stroke that had been aimed at his back now barely missed his chest, swiping at the air less than inches away. Damn, she's quick. He moved to her left again and arced his blade in a brief feint towards her side, but quickly changed to an upward thrust halfway through the movement.

"Good." the Blademaiden praised as she parried and fell back. "The Leveler wouldn’t be disgraced to have someone like you on her side."

A buzz of rune magic suddenly raised the hairs on Raven's arms, and a sleeve of blue flame flared into life around the Blademaiden's sword. She swept the blazing arc down across her bound arm, and the chains trapping it burst apart and vanished in golden smoke. The mage hissed briefly in pain at the magical exertion, then rallied as she drove at the Raven two handed, a whirlwind of sapphire flame. The burning sword left blue ghosts in its wake as it slashed, but then a brighter light eclipsed it, white and migraine bright.

Flash flash. It came from somewhere beyond the walls. Flash flash.

Evidently, it was some sort of signal for the Ashwoman. She ceased her attack, and let her sword point drop as the blue flames evaporated off the steel blade. A heat-haze shimmer flared between them as the Blademaiden threw up her rune wards once more. She was panting, just as Brannon was, but she still managed to raise a smile.

“Don’t die before tomorrow’s dawn, Raven.” she said silkily, raising her sword’s crossguard to her lips in salute and then sweeping it elegantly aside. “I would hate for this to be our last encounter.”

Brannon's eyes narrowed as he stepped back from his opponent. He didn't want to let her go, but he wasn't stupid. If this duel went on any longer, one of them would be the first to succumb to exhaustion, and he wasn't betting on the Blademaiden. As she raised her sword in salute, Brannon did the same. He hated to admit it, but he did hold some respect for her skills. He remained silent, however, at her comment, and kept his gaze glued on her sword until she left to answer the summons.

With his opponent gone, Brannon was finally able to catch his breath, and he nearly collapsed on the ground. The cries of the wounded snapped him out of his daze, and he grunted while rising to his feet. There were four others among him, he recalled. Perhaps one of them was in need of aid.

Azazeal849
06-30-2018, 08:18 PM
The silence grew like a deafening roar as the Apprentice finished up with his speech. Tension slowly began to grow as Sage heard roars of insults and megar talk from up above. The Lightmen grew impatient as she heard the orders “FIRE”.

This was it… this was the beginning of a bloodbath. The Blademaiden tactfully began to cast on of her barrier spells to deny the incoming rain of arrows. Sage look at the group of mages she was with; the hunger for battle in their eyes and their ominous expression of joy was concerning as she new that THIS is what the Ashen mages were all about- power and destruction.

“Redmoor, it’s time for a demonstration,” the Apprentice said to the red mage.

Sage knew of his power and didn’t want of this to escalate any further. “REDMOOR STOP!” Sage screamed as she ran towards him to reason with him, but it was too late.

Redmoor began to channel a mighty spell and with the movements of his arm, the great wall of the Enlightened began to crack and crumble. In that moment, Sage’s heart sank. Tears began to roll down her face as she empathized with the Lightmen. The wall began to deteriorate and falter. The screams of the Lightmen echoed in Sage’s ears as she began to cry even more. She couldn’t handle this attack any longer.

“WHY APPRENTICE? WHY DO WE HAVE TO DO THIS? WE JUST NEEDED MORE TIME TO REASON WITH THEM AND THEY WOULD’VE ACCEPTED THE TERMS. WHY MUST WE CONSTANTLY DESTROY EVERYTHING IN OUR PATH TO GET FURTHER AHEAD.” Sage furiously screamed at the Apprentice.

The Apprentice looked at her. Unlike the other mages, there was no joy in his eyes as he watched the wall crumble. “Because they keep resisting freedom.”

He gently squeezed her shoulder and began to stride towards the city.

The ghastly screams of the Lightmen, the crackling and thunderous booming of the wall continuing to fall was all too much for Sage to handle.

“I can’t do this anymore,” Sage whispered to herself, “I can’t take this much more suffering. I can’t CAUSE this much pain to anyone else.” She began to dart towards the city, dodging the falling rocks.

The Illusion met no resistance as she clambered over the sunken foundations, which were all that was left of this section of the wall. Among the once-proud rubble, Lightmen were coughing, shouting, and screaming in pain.

No sooner had she stepped into the city then a fan of black needles ripped past her, whistling as they buried themselves into a still-standing section of the wall. Wheeling round to face the attack, she was greeted by the sight of a man - dressed in banded leather, streaked with mud and wet sand. Behind him, a woman in a soiled blue gown and one of the Lightmen’s gold-masked snake priests struggled in a pool of mud. The man’s broad, chiselled features were twisted into a mask of fury.

“You bitch.” he cursed her. “You think you heretics can simply walk into our city!?”

He drew his arm up across his chest, and then flung it out towards her. Another spread of glistening black needles materialised out of the air and screeched towards the Illusion.

She quickly vaulted to the side. Shit, he is good. Sage thought to herself as she escaped the flurry of needles. They thunked into the remains of the wall, hissing venomously as they evaporated back into the ether.

“Sir, I’m not here to hurt you. I’m only trying to come home to where I belong. I don’t belong with these feindous mages who only want power for themselves,” she said to the man, but he didn’t seem like the type for words. He continuously bombarded Sage with needles, but her quick feet made light work of the simple spell. Sage didn’t want to reveal her powers unless she was in a dire situation, but she decided to fight back; maybe a few blows would help him understand that she was on their side.

Sage quickly composed herself and drew her blade. With a flash, she pressed forward towards this man, dodging his volley of needles when she finally got close enough to strike. She knew that if she murdered this man, she would never get back into the city, so she hastily changed her stance to connect a fierce roundhouse kick to his abdomen. The other mage took the kick on the overlapping leather of his bracer, turning it aside, but she followed with another kick to his stomach, causing him to stumble backwards.

‘I have no quarrel with you stranger, but just let me return to my home in PEACE.”

The armoured mage gritted his teeth. “No peace with servants of that heathen Leveler.”

He aimed a sweeping strike at Sage’s head, and as she evaded, exhaled hard into her face. A mist of dark smoke billowed from his lips, burning like acid as it hit Sage’s face and setting the membranes in her nose and throat on fire.

Sage began to scream in pain as this black smoke left the man’s lips. “Why won’t you listen to me… OPEN YOUR FUCKING EYES!” she screamed in a mixed tone of anger and pain. Her body began to shake in rage as she locked eyes with the man. “I guess it’s time to show my abilities,” she whispered, frowning as she didn’t want to resort to using her magic.

A flash of light illuminated the battlefield and her body became engulfed in light. “You will know the wrath of the heavens,” Sage spoke as her body continuously began to glow brighter.

“Blasphemer!” the other mage spat. “We are the wrath of the heavens!” He took a step towards her, pulling back his fist to cast another rune.

With a soft trot, she flourished her blade at the man, striking at a blinding speed. Her blade had found a weak spot in his armor, piercing his shoulder. She quickly pulled the blade from his shoulder as she leaped back to prepare for another strike. The Enlightened mage staggered, half doubled over as a thin line of blood trickled between the overlapping chevrons of his armour. He clutched at the wound with a look of shock on his face.

“I will not die here,” Sage exclaimed, still in pain from the earlier spell. She quickly grasped her necklace and opened the locket revealing a small mirror. Within an instant, the man began to see copies of her… she was duplicating herself. Sage began another assault, weaving in and out of her clones to land a punch to the man’s jaw, sending him back a few feet.

The armoured mage spat blood, his expression melting from shock into fury. “You’ll all die here.” he growled, casting out another spread of magical darts. Two of them lanced through one of Sage’s illusory copies, snuffing it out of existence in a shimmer of black smoke and fading light.

“Can we please just talk this out? There is no more need of such violence and I don’t want to continue to quarrel with my own people.” Sage spoke out as her nose began to bleed.

A sound like splitting glass crackled through the air. Looking down, Sage saw a rime of ice spreading across the ground, curling around her feet. Her clones flickered away as the frost caught them and revealed them for what they were.

“I agree.” rasped a different voice.

Tracing the line of ice back to its source, Sage saw that the blue-clad woman had risen to her hands and knees. One copper-skinned hand was pressed into the earth, radiating a spiderweb of ice crystals. The blue mage’s head was bleeding, but she ignored the injury even as frost-burn snaked up her bare arm.

“This ends now.” the woman said, and with a pulsing thrumm the baking air turned frigid, and the ice around Sage’s feet leapt up in jagged spines; creeping upward to cover her feet, then her legs, then her chest in a crushing prison of frozen water.

“This is becoming senseless. Your sordid view of me needs to be cleared, and you MUST know me. I’ve lived in the Enlightened City for all of my life. There is NO way in hell I’d forsake my people like this… I’d NEVER comply with this evil bitch who wants to turn you all into slaves.”

The woman in blue didn’t reply, only rotated her hand. There was a cracking sound as the pressure of the ice around Sage’s body increased. The armoured mage, breathing heavily and still cradling his wounded shoulder, managed a rasping laugh. He clearly did not believe a word of what she had just said.

“Are you begging, heretic?” he taunted.

“If you’re one of our people,” the blue lady hissed, slowly beginning to close her hand into a fist, “Then what were you doing out there with them?”

Tears began to stream down Sage’s face. The expression of fear and absolute pain was written all over her. Sage began to scream louder and louder as the ice gained pressure upon her body. She knew that if this spell didn’t give, she was about to perish.

“I only joined them because of my father Blaine! He murdered my mother in cold blood right before my eyes. All of these years I’ve just wanted revenge and to have his body six feet under, but have never had the appropriate opportunity. The City of Ash is vile and I don’t know how anyone could follow such cruel leadership. Please hear my cry. I’m BEGGING YOU, don’t do this. Spare my life and let me return home to my City. THIS IS WHERE I BELONG!”.

The ice still grew tighter as she tried to get through to the blue lady, but her will seemed to be ironclad. Sage’s voice was slowly drawing to a whisper as the ice was compressed on her chest. It was getting harder for her to catch her breath. She was slowly fading out of consciousness when she heard another unfamiliar voice.

“Stop!”

The shout came from behind both mages, from the slender figure wearing a priest’s robe and mask.

”This mortal’s words hold truth.” said the Ambassador softly, “Can’t you all hear the pleading of the mind, breaking from their shell to speak them? They will be put in words, should the mortal allow me contact.”

Without further word she reached her hand forward and began to step forward, in the direction of Sage.

Sage was beginning to slip under, holding on to every ounce of willpower she had when the cloaked woman began to approach her with an outstretched hand. She wanted to intrude Sage’s mind; to delve deep into her memories to seek the truth of the situation at hand. But reading minds was a power that only the Mer could cast. No human possessed such a rune. Which meant that the rumours that the Enlightened had reached out to the sea creatures that they once despised were true, though Sage had no time to dwell on it. Sage was very hesitant at first as she didn’t want to bring certain repressed memories to light, but she knew she had to open up to this woman or she would die in the icy prison that was compressing her body. After moments of battling with herself and shedding a few more tears, she simply nodded and let the woman place her hand upon her cheek.

Sage was resting on her bedroom floor when she began to hear a shouting battle between her parents.

“You and Sage need to pack your bags immediately,” screamed Blaine to Sage’s mother, Scarlet, “The Leveler needs as many soldiers as she can get, and you and Sage would make great candidates for her cause.”

Sage couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Her father actually believes that he belongs in the City of Ash, and that her and her mother needed to join this cause.

“I’m not going to put myself or Sage in any danger, so if you want to, go ahead and join the bitch’s army but leave me and MY daughter out of it.” said Sage’s mother as she began to exit the room.

“Those who oppose my leader oppose me!” Blaine said in a stern voice as he grabbed Scarlet’s arm, pulled her back to him, and drove a dagger right into her chest.

There was a loud scream followed by an ominous thud from the living quarters. Sage had no idea what was happening, so she pulled herself off of her bed and ran into the other room. As she arrived in the room, she felt something… warm. She looked down to see her foot submerged in blood and her mother’s body lying just a few feet from her. The world froze…Sage’s heart skipped several beats…

“Could this really be happening?” she thought as she observed her mother’s body on the ground. The color was slowly fading away from her tan complexion, fading to grey. “Dad… Dad…… DAD WHAT HAVE YOU DONE? WHY?! WHY?! WHY DID YOU KILL MOM!? I FUCKING HATE YOU! I SWEAR TO OUR SHATTERED GODS THAT ONE DAY, YOUR LIFE WILL BE AT THE MERCY OF MY HANDS!”

She went to go punch her father, but everything fizzled out. Her muscles collapsed from exhaustion, her energy was completely gone. She began to fall when her father quickly acted and swooped her up.

“Now dear, I want you to listen closely. You will join me in my journey to the City of Ash to join the Leveler’s army and you will be one of her best mages. The amount of sword training I have given you and the runes your mother blessed upon you will make you a force to be reckoned with. Now, go to sleep and when you wake, you will be in your new home.”

All of the emotion confusion that Sage just witnessed was too much for her body to comprehend and it gave out on her. She blacked out in her father’s arms.

The woman stepped back, the gold mask that she wore betraying no emotion. As she lowered her hand, her voice was likewise flat and inscrutable.

“Yes.” she said simply, “I believe this mortal. You should let her go.” She did not elaborate further.

The lady in mud-ruined blue listened, her expression neutral. Then, she slowly opened her hand. The crushing pressure of the ice against Sage’s body reduced slightly, and then with a splintering groan the ice began to crack and slough away, until Sage was free to move once more.

The armoured mage scowled with wary vigilance. The blue lady probed her blood-matted hair gingerly, wincing as she looked up at Sage.

“Even if all that’s true,” she said, “Why defect now? The city is surrounded.”

“Because it’s right.” Sage said, simply.

Azazeal849
06-30-2018, 08:27 PM
Solar awoke to the scrape and rumble of heavy stones being levered off him. When he opened his eyes, he saw Davin stooped over him, alongside a man in the green robe of a healer mage. He was a careworn man, whose profession and runecraft had added years to his face. His hands were pressed to Solar’s chest, and the young mage felt a soothing warmth spreading through his body as the bruises and scrapes of the previous fight stopped hurting.

Solar blinked his eyes and realised that something was wrong. The right side of his vision was fuzzy and indistinct. He closed his left eye experimentally, but this time his blurred right eye didn’t return to normal, no matter how hard he strained to focus.

“You’ll be alright.” said the mage, the healing glow fading from his hands.

Davin offered a hand to help Solar up. Together they limped back to the ruins of the gate, where they saw their comrades milling about. Every one of them was marked from the recent fight. The Wanderer was covered in small cuts, while the Wraith’s iron mask was scorched black. Around them were soldiers and civilians; coughing, weeping, digging at the rubble with their hands in search of the wounded and the dead.

“Fucking mages.” Davin complained as they gathered. “If I ever get out of this I'm going to sack off mercenary work and open a pub. I'll call it the Buggered Dream and charge any wizard who comes in double for every drink.”

The healer walking beside him looked affronted. “Well that’s not very nice.” He indicated Solar’s comrades regrouping by the ruined wall. “It was also mages that just saved you all.”

He suddenly turned, gasped, and went to his knees. The others looked up, and saw other Lightmen doing the same as two of the ruling mages from the pyramid came striding out of the dust towards them. They walked with dignity, but had clearly been in the fight themselves. The stately Blue Lady was soiled with mud and blood, while the armoured Scorpion was nursing a wounded shoulder. Behind them were a gold-masked snake priestess, and a dishevelled woman dressed in loose white and black.

The kneeling citizens clearly did not know where to look first - at their mighty leaders wounded by battle, at the priestess ghosting at their heels, or at the red-haired woman who they had last seen standing alongside the Leveler’s mages.

“She is with us now.” the Blue Lady said, resting a stern hand on the defector’s shoulder. “She has recanted the Leveler for the true faith. Praise be to the Shattered Gods.”

“Praise be.” most of the crowd murmured, though they looked in bemusement at the snake priestess who did not speak to reinforce their rulers’ words. The Blue Lady huffed, and reached up to wipe away the blood that was running from her hairline.

The healer’s eyes flicked from the Scorpion to the Blue Lady. “Do you need help, holiness?” he ventured.

“Not from you.” the Scorpion snapped.

“Tend to the injured.” the Blue Lady told him. “The need of our faithful is greater.”

As the healer scrambled to obey, the curious eyes of the crowd fell back upon the priestess and the red-haired Ashwoman.

“The rest of you, away.” the Blue Lady told them, sharply. “Now!”

The Lightmen’s deference to the Enlightened was ingrained. They fled, leaving their wounded to the healer. As the dusty street cleared, the Blue Lady fixed her eyes on the ragged group of mercenary mages. “Not you lot. You fought off the Leveler’s mages. I want to know what you saw.”

“Gah.” the Scorpion interrupted her bitterly. He was still clutching at the wound that the Illusion had left on his shoulder. “Where’s the fucking Hunchback when you need him?”

The snake priestess looked around, taking in the battleground through the eye-slits of her gold mask. The eyes behind the mask were sea-blue, placid; almost detached from the chaos of the scene.

“Here is your proof, Ambassador.” said the Blue Lady, speaking to the snake priestess. “As this Illusion has said, the Leveler claims to have found a Greater Moonstone. And this,” She swept her arms to encompass the ruins of the east gate, “Is what she plans to do with it.”

The priestess called Ambassador looked around. “I see the work of underlings, not the Leveler. Maybe she has this power, maybe not. Maybe your city falls, maybe not. Maybe good change?”

Her accent was strange; a singsong lilt that the group couldn’t pin down to any of the towns and cities they had visited throughout the Valley.

“We’re not talking about a lesser moonstone here.” the Scorpion argued hotly. “No ordinary healing rune.”

“If the legends are true,” the Blue Lady added sternly, “If the moonstone will give this unbeliever the creation power of the Brothers…” The mage’s hands curled into fists at her sides. “She’ll be invincible. She could take any form, heal any wound. She would be one with the gods.”

“So we give you Book of Names, and you will be invincible instead?” The Ambassador cocked her head, unmoved. “Mer are not like landwalkers. We are not sharp iron, we are water. Slow, shifting, timeless - and not without power. Mer will not hand over the Book of Names unless proof see.”

Standing between Solar and Raven, Davin’s jaw dropped. “Mer? So it’s true?” His hand hovered close to his sword belt as he looked at the Ambassador, as if unsure whether he should draw the weapon.

The Blue Lady caught the movement. “Stand down, believer.” she said. “Today we need to fight against a greater blasphemy.”

Davin didn’t reply, but after a moment he took his hand away from his sword hilt, and instead folded his arms across his bronze breastplate.

The Blue Lady turned to the Illusion. “You say the Leveler found it in the mines, yes?”

Davin glanced at Solar. “The mines?” he muttered, “I thought we had finished fighting over those old hills. They haven’t mined a rune out of there in years, just iron and tin.”

The Ambassador smoothed her toga, looking down and running her hands along the cloth as if momentarily fascinated by the strange material. “Your memories are true, Illusion, but they are not whole. You have not yet witnessed yourself. I will travel to this mine to see if the Leveler really has done what you say.”

The Scorpion blinked his dark eyes at her. “You’ll what now? Did you miss that there’s an army standing outside?”

“We sneak.” said the Ambassador, sounding almost mischievous. She pointed around, picking out Raven, Wraith, Wanderer, Archer and Solar in turn. “You have rune power. You shall come with me and the one called Illusion.”

Davin muttered something under his breath. It sounded like suicide.

The Blue Lady folded her arms. “If you need more proof, then fine. But find it quickly. Those mages weren’t making any secret of the fact that they’ll be back at dawn tomorrow.”

Davin looked at the tumbled remains of the city wall, and kicked out angrily at a loose stone. “Dawn tomorrow? We’re fucked.”

In an alleyway nearby, a ragged urchin girl turned a single coin over in her hands, and blinked her little brown eyes at the Wanderer.

Azazeal849
07-04-2018, 08:01 PM
There was something powerful up here. The Leveler could feel it, tick-ticking away at the back of her mind and setting the hairs on her arms prickling.

The question was who else had come here and felt it too. A miner who had touched a rock-face and collapsed with his eyes boiling out of his head...that kind of news tended to travel. The Leveler almost smiled. The Seekers spent all their time locking away powerful runes in places no wizard would dare to tread, and in the end their greatest prize was right here. Here in the self-same mountain from which countless other runes had been accidentally unearthed, found by simple peasants digging for iron and tin and the other ores that fuelled human civilization.

The Leveler’s worry was not having the runes needed to protect herself from the surge that had instantly killed the unfortunate miner. Her worry was the other mages who would soon be descending on the site like vultures. And one mage in particular, whose mark she had already seen blasted into the rocks around the mountain path amid scatterings of charred bone. The Immortal always did love his thunderbolt rune, she thought wryly.

The Leveler took a calming breath and closed her eyes, letting the wind roar in her ears and tug at her dark hair. A few loose strands stuck to the bar of pastel blue chalk that cut across her face, framing her eyes.

“Let us come with you, my lady.” her Apprentice urged.

The Leveler opened her eyes. “No.” she said, firmly but not unkindly. “The Immortal is beyond your runecraft. You would never even pierce his wards.”

Leaving her lieutenants behind, she began the long hike up the mountainside.

She found him near the entrance to the main shaft, scrying among the abandoned heaps of ore and rubble that had been left behind when the miners fled. He wore a light linen sun-cloak over cotton and waxed leather, all embroidered with intricate spirals. All she could see was the back of his hairless head, earthy brown with the warm undertones of a grassland sunset.

His back was to her, but she wasn’t fool enough to think that he was unaware of her presence, let alone defenceless.

“Immortal!” she shouted in challenge. “That’s my rune you’re standing over.”

The Immortal turned on his heel with theatrical grace, and smiled. He had thin, elegant lips and pearly teeth, perfectly suited to such expressions of wicked amusement. His face was strong featured, with high cheekbones and intense dark eyes.

“Oh?” the Immortal grinned. “And what’s your claim to it, Leveler?”

“Altruism, as opposed to your selfishness.”

“Altruism?” The Immortal hooked his thumbs lazily into his belt. “I suppose you mean that in the way that your altruism makes you better than me? Gods, you should have been a Seeker.”

He laughed then, a low baritone chuckle.

“Reach out, Leveler. See what the stakes actually are here.”

The Leveler did so, keeping a wary eye on the Immortal as she nudged her awareness outward with one of the simpler detection runes. It hit her like a tidal wave. She had to draw back, instinctively repelled in the same way her hand might flinch away from a boiling kettle even though she meant to grab it.

A runestone, yes. A more powerful runestone than she had ever felt. A stone of the Elder Brother. A greater moonstone. The moonstone.

She didn’t flinch, but her expression must have still shown on her face, because the Immortal grinned mockingly. She didn’t answer him, only snapped up her hand, willing power into her fingertips. The Immortal was fast; at that exact moment he did the same, throwing out his hands with liquid light boiling around his fingers.

The Leveler gritted her teeth as the bones in her arm sang in protest. A pinpoint of light bloomed, impossibly bright, in the centre of her palm. An eyeblink later, it transformed into a streaming lance of blue fire, shrieking towards her enemy.


Part 2 - The Immortal

https://ap2hyc.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/09/Spartacus-Tv-Series-Spartacus-Blood-And-Sand-Peter-Mensah.jpg

The Ambassador and her picked mages snuck out of the river gate that night. The Greater Moon was a waxy crescent in the clear summer sky, and the Lesser was a silver one chasing it up across the starfield. They provided only enough light to outline the city walls against the gloom, and the river was black glass - shivering every time the wind sent wavelets scudding across it.

They kept to the bank, where the long reeds broke up their outlines and turned them into just another shadow among the swaying river-plants. They would be fine here, as long as none of them stepped on a water snake and picked up a painful venomous bite for their trouble. Further upriver the Leveler’s war galleys barred the way, and they would have to find somewhere to cross the river before then, sneaking behind the encamped Ash army and escaping northeast towards the mountain mines.

It was a task that would need both their runes and their cunning.

Scottie
07-12-2018, 09:19 PM
Grubby fingers twisted a coin over in her palm. Hope filled eyes settled on her and the smallest of smiles crept onto her lips. The image was on repeat in the wanderer's mind. That itching of a maternal instinct told her to stay, to protect the small girl. She had for a single moment kicked her heels in, told herself she would stay but the deep red scars on her arms told her to forget it. The child was safer in the city without her.

The darkness felt comfortable. It was easier to pick through the outskirts without being noticed when the only light was the dim moon. Her fingertips drifted over the tips of the water reeds and let the soft lullaby of the water echo around her skull. The soft shuffling of the reeds covered the noise of their rustling footsteps. Her faithful axe was strapped to her back, yet her right hand itched for it to be in her fingertips.

The Mer walked ahead, her body gracefully slinking through the tall grass. It was almost if happiness was flooding through her veins being this close to running water. The Wanderer did not trust the Mer. Mer were pompous. ‘Slow...shifting...timeless...and not without power.’ The Wanderer had internally scoffed at the words. It was mere words but she saw them as arrows aimed directly at her, it was as if they were children to the Mer.

The soft thudding march of their small group reminded her of mornings long past. Walking from their small dirt hut to the mines, their bodies, minds and very souls broken. The Wanderer was not planning on entering those mines again. The cave walls held memories that were best left untouched. The mere thought of them had forced her wake in a cold sweat. Everything left a bad taste in her mouth. They were going to her city...her mines...they were passing her people...sneaking past them.

Green tired eyes burned into the back of the Mer before them.“You better have a plan for this.” Her words were a harsh whisper against the lapping water beside them. This Mer had ‘power’ on her side...The Wanderer did not want to be fodder for her plan.

“Keep your wits about you….Ashmen can see in the dark.” Her voice had an amused tone but she knew the statement held truth. It was why she travelled mostly by night, it was why she felt safe in the darkness. If they weren’t careful, they could easily be spotted.

Kiro Akira
07-19-2018, 07:14 PM
Solar & Everyone


"You better have a plan for this." Wanderer said, her words a harsh whisper against the lapping water beside them.

The Mer Ambassador glanced back over her shoulder as she (it?) crept through the reeds, one hand out to brush against the swaying stalks. Divested of the robe and mask she had worn for disguise back in the city, the Ambassador was striking. Her skin was so pale that it took on a blue tinge, a colour that was even more pronounced in her thin lips and slow-scanning eyes. Her hair was vibrant red, tangled into stiff dreadlocks now that it had dried. She was just human enough to be beautiful, and just inhuman enough for that beauty to be unsettling. As she brushed by Solar, he smelled salt and seaweed.

The Mer drank salt water instead of pure, or so the tales went, and dissolved into sea foam when they died. Solar didn't know the truth of that, any more than he knew if it was true that the Mer had once been human, before being blessed and cursed with the shapeshifting power that the Brother Gods had granted to no other.

The Ambassador hmm'd softly to herself as she considered Wanderer's question. Unlike the others she carried no supplies over her thin wool tunic; not even any bedding save for the dark hooded cloak she wore about her shoulders.

"Stay away from the lights." she suggested at last.

It was not obvious whether the advice referred to the moons, or the torches winking distantly in the Ashmen camp, or something else entirely - and the Ambassador did not seem interested in elaborating as she tiptoed off ahead.


Solar looked to the group keeping to the far right. He hated 'escaping' and hated running away. They could have fought them off right? Or he believed so. None the less it was his home they fled from and now traveling in a group for what? A greater cause? He didn't know nor did he care. The sooner the group had gotten to their destination the better. The man was still unclear on where they were going aside from sneaking around in the dead of night.

When the mer-lady brushed by him he nearly cringed at the smell of salt. The seaweed wasn't to pleasant of a smell either but they still pressed on. Her skin reminded Solar of the moon and stars themselves and made him wonder if she was that pale from the sea or if she was merely pale from her curse. He could only imagine if he was caught with such a curse. Being at sea was great and he was sure there were wonderful perks to being there. Some runes that had possibly been sunk to the depths of the sea and only accessible by the merfolk themselves. But he could only imagine being stuck as so. He loved his human form and thought it was best to keep it that way.

Coming up on the Ashmen's camp he listened when they spoke about staying away from the light. His eyes focused on the dim lit path ahead from the moon and then to the lights in the distance before looking back to the water only to shrug. If they could get past them any faster that would be good right? And what better way than to use the water itself. "Could just use the water to pass us on through. I can freeze it for a short period of time, but it'd be big enough for us to travel across, and I'll just freeze a path, it'll thaw within minutes behind us. Keep us hidden, out of sight, and when it unfreezes nobody will know the difference."

Price
07-22-2018, 02:53 AM
The hooded Wraith moved quietly along with the company as they traveled along with the Mer. As for the creature herself, he gave no reaction to her presence one way or the other. The others in the group seemed far less than pleased with her company. That was certainly true for the supposed 'Enlightened', but the Wraith had no quarrels with her himself yet. As far as he was concerned, the Enlightened were untrustworthy pharisees who might deserve his blade themselves before this journey was finished. Even now they had no knowledge of who they really had in their employ. He had kept the hood of his cloak overturned in every interaction he had with them so as to appear as just another unremarkable mercenary. Whether his ruse had truly been enough to fool them or not would be more a statement as to their own true intelligence anyway. As for the Mer's words, the Wraith took them for what they were worth. If she believed herself to be superior, it was no matter. She would hardly be the first to have an over-inflated sense of their own worth. It was far more likely though, that her words held a different purpose. In being slow, perhaps their kind was more deliberate in their approach. Such a trait would be deserving of admiration. In being shifting, perhaps open to change. Timeless? Perhaps that was an account as to their aging or lack thereof. Perhaps their lifespans lasted longer leaving them far more versed in the nature of seemingly cataclysmic conflicts. Someone with all of those qualities would be a worthy ally indeed, even without the powers that the Mer possessed. The more that he pondered, the better his first impression of her was.

That same praise could not be admonished to the Leveler though. He had hoped that this mystery lady would be a positive force for the kingdoms and not simply another adversary that he must face. Unfortunately, his initial impression of her was that she was not all that different from the Enlightened. She seemed to be simply another political power-player devoid of honor or shame, who would not hesitate to employ thugs to accomplish self-gratifying goals at the expense of false promises and innocent blood. Even still, it would not be fair to render her a judgement without allowing her to explain herself.

The Wraith was pulled from his thoughts as one of his comrades, the one called Solar, spoke a suggestion. "Would the ice be thick enough to support our weight?" The Wraith asked, even in whisper his voice having a dark chill to it. He had to admit though, it did seem a rather nice plan. Perhaps this band of mercenaries were more than he had given them credit for.

Kiro Akira
08-01-2018, 07:22 PM
Solar & Raven

Solar shrugged at the question asked upon him by Wraith. "Will it work? Of course it will. But the longer we go down river the more stress it puts on my body. So the faster the better. I've actually carried a carriage with three horses tied to it across a lake. Nearly passed out and went blind in one eye by the time I had finished but hey, it worked."

Solar nodded in agreement with his statement before looking to the water. As demonstration, he made his way over to the edge and touched the top of the water with just his fingertips. Upon the touch his rune in the pouch ignited with energy as it filled his hands and slowly spread across the water. First it was an almost clear touch as it froze it. Then as the ice solidified more and more of the water it slowly became a crystal-like light blue color. As Solar released his hand the ice stayed - though it would be a mere three minutes before melting away again into the river.

Behind Solar, the Ambassador cocked her head to look at the ice, dark in the moonlight with the still-moving river lapping at its edges. She gave no comment, but sighed quietly to herself as she stepped up out of the reeds, as if sad to part from the water lapping around her ankles. Solar heard the tiniest meep escape the mer's blue lips as she put her bare foot down on the ice, drawing back for a moment before stepping up onto the cold platform.

"Don't slip." she warned the others, although so quietly it was almost as if she was musing to herself. "Would be bad."

The Ambassador began to cat-foot across the ice as Solar extended the spell towards the far bank. While the others were still climbing up onto the ice shelf, the mer spread her arms with a dramatic flourish and dived forward, sliding away on her belly into the darkness.

The Archer rolled his eyes.

The six humans proceeded slowly across Solar's ice bridge. Every now and then, the river would wash across the top of the glistening shelf and bathe their feet in brackish water. They were stealthy however, and all was well. All was well, that is, until there was a flicker of movement off to their left.

The Wanderer saw it first: a coiling shadow that detached itself from the deeper black of the water, flaring like a threatened cobra. Only this snake was covered not in scales, but long, weedy leaves. Walking in front of her, Archer turned as the corner of his eye caught the movement, and was immediately snared as the long slimy vine curled around his neck. The living creeper flexed and Archer tumbled over himself, his back striking the edge of the ice with a loud crack as he vanished into the thrashing water. There was a slither of wet fronds against ice as more creepers appeared. One seized Wanderer by the ankle; another curled around Illusion's wrist and pulled hard.

Nudging his night-vision rune into life with a thought, Raven was the first to see what they were truly up against. She was lying in the sand at the bed of the river, pale hair and dark robes drifting gently in the current. Raven could make out Ashman hieroglyphs embroidered on the robes. The woman's twig-thin arms were laced behind her head, and her ankles were crossed as if she were simply relaxing under the moonlight. Her pinched, olive-skinned face was distorted behind a shimmering bubble - some kind of breathing rune - but not so distorted that Raven couldn't see the woman giggling to herself. The long ropes of seaweed carpeting the sand around her had come alive, clawing upwards under a rune-cast force. Several of them already had Archer, closing around him like a slimy claw. The woman unwound a thin arm from behind her head, bracelets of runestones shimmering around her wrist as she reached up and wiggled her fingers at them all, waving playfully.

The seaweed vines yanked back and water rushed up to meet them all, black and cold and suffocating.

Scottie
08-14-2018, 08:05 PM
Questions buzzed round her like flies. They were answered smugly as one of their group touched the water with his fingers. The Wanderer did not know what she had expected. An ice path, yes...but this was something else. Each small sign of power from her comrades shook her to her core. Trust was not something she felt with any of those that travelled with her and she was starting to doubt that she could hold her own against any of them. One tentative step out onto the ice was all she needed. She did not fear the water, she just didn’t want to slip and fall. Seeing the Mer tiptoe her way across the bridge and then slide into the darkness on her stomach….was fucking hilarious but the Wanderer kept her laughter to herself. The Mer seemed to disappear into the darkness. Maybe for good. Fingers crossed, the wanderer thought as she kept herself steady on the ice.

There. Subtle movement to her right, the shadow seemed to be slithering like a snake towards them. Her right hand crept up to her back, unhooking her pick as she attempted to keep her eyes on the ‘thing’ that was melting into the darkness. A word was poised on her lips, ready to alert the others when a thick vine wrapped itself around the leaders neck. Her left hand flew out in a vain attempt at grabbing the man. The crack was sickening, it echoed into her stomach. Before her mind could truly register the attack, something slithered around her ankle. Gripping tight enough that she felt the gentle kiss of pain embedding into her skin. A swear word that had been festering in her throat launched itself out into the cold air as the vine yanked her forward. Her hip made harsh contact with the ice. Panic soared through her and she crashed her pick down against the ice, embedding it deep and stopping the vine from tugging her easily into the murky water.

With her right hand tight around the handle of the pick, she reached down to tear the vine from her body. First touch of the bind had her reeling back. It was cold and slick to the touch. “Help..Fuck…” The harsh requests were accompanied by the sudden retreat of the vines. The wanderer rolled over and frantically pulled herself from the edge of the ice walkway. The pick was removed from the ice as if it were embedded in soft soil not solid ice. “What was that?” Her gaze was already scanning over the reeds that littered the water. “See if it was that fucking Mer...I swear…” Rage was pin pricking itself through her. They were corned by a force that they could not see. They could not pinpoint the next attack...and she hated it. The wanderer changed her stance, her right hand tight around the handle of her pick. The next attack would not catch her off guard but they needed to know what they were fighting and they needed that answer pronto.

Azazeal849
08-15-2018, 11:36 AM
The Wanderer heard a loud splash from the darkness up ahead, as if someone else had flopped into the water. The only one further up the bridge from her was the mer Ambassador, but it was impossible to tell if she had been dragged in or dived in voluntarily. Either way, it was creating entirely too much noise.

The chill of the ice was sharp, burning through her sandals into her feet. The water churned at the edge of the conjured bridge, but there was no sign of the Archer, and no sign of an attacker casting their runes from among the shadowy reeds at the opposite bank. The Archer’s marching pack had split as he was dragged across the ice, spilling a bundled cloak and food parcels across the bridge. Several arrows had been overturned from his quiver, and three were bobbing in the angry water. One lay near Wanderer’s left foot, alongside a tiny purse that had vomited out a number of small, flat stones.

Even in the gloomy moonlight the stones seemed to shimmer; sparking with hatched lines, like letters that she couldn’t quite read. She knew that spark only too well. Runestones.

A louder, much closer splash slapped the water to her left, and she saw the Ambassador lunge half-out of the water with the Archer in her grip, her pale blue fingers tugging at the coils of seaweed that had wrapped around his limbs and throat.

“On the riverbed!” the mer managed to call out in warning.

The Archer’s neck seemed to be flopping at an unnatural angle, but the Wanderer did not get a proper look before both he and the mer were dragged back under the surface with another mighty splash.

Price
09-04-2018, 04:44 PM
27 years prior

“Master...I don’t understand. What are you doing? What’s with the blindfold?” The nervous voice of an uncertain boy child inquired. Young Colvin had grown taller, and with his training, he had finally began to develop some muscle to his twig arms and scrawny frame. He stood, with feet shoulder length apart, knees slightly bent in proper fighting stance, before his master. A dark rag was tied to his face, covering his eyes. “It smells like piss!” A sudden cold and unforgiving backhand slapped across his face spinning his head to the side prompting a pained yelp from the boy.
“Language,” Came the reply from a stern but otherwise calm voice of an older man. The swordmaster looked down at Colvin, none to pleased.
“But piss isn’t eve---” Another crude slap went across his cheek before he could even finish his protest. His hand went to his now tender cheek as he yelped again.
“Now, today’s lesson,” the man began, completely ignoring the boy’s backtalk. “You’ve shown promise, boy. You have talent.”
“Thank you master,” the boy humbly accepted the rare praise.
“I have spent the last five years drilling you with the basics of combat...tactics, form, and sparring. You’re ready to progress. It’s time to take your raw talent and refine it,” said the master.
“How?” Colvin asked curiously.
The master paced slowly in a circle around the blindfolded child like a shark evaluating its potential prey. He unstrapped his sword hilt from his armor and withdrew the sword, still sheathed. Once he was face to face with the boy, he stopped suddenly.
“You must learn to fight by feel. Any warrior can hack and slash with a sword.” He explained. “A real swordmaster can duel in any environment under any circumstance for as long as he is needed.”
“So I’m blindfolded because---” Colvin was interrupted.
“Because a true swordsman can fight with his eyes closed.” The master finished the boy’s sentence for him.
“That’s crazy! How am I supposed to block if I can’t even---”
The master didn’t wait for the boy to finish his complaint before he sliced his sheathed sword into the boy’s side prompting Colvin to lose his balance and fall to the ground.
“Ow! Hey! Stop it! There’s no way I can---” Once again Colvin was interrupted as his master’s sword rained on him from above. This time, Colvin was able to block, but only because he had instinctively held his own sword in front of him when he landed.
“No more excuses. Don’t think. Feel.” The master said. “We will drill this everyday until you get it right a thousand times out of a thousand.”
---------------------
Present Day

The Wraith watched as his comrades fell under attack from snake-like vines. He should have expected this, an ambush from a sentry was all too predictable, and they had walked right into it. He quickly lowered his hood and unsheathed his swords, preparing for an attack from an unseen foe. A flicker of concern lit his concealed face as two were dragged into the water, one by the neck. He closed his eyes and prayed silently, grateful to his master for decades of training. It wasn’t pretty but he was managing to hold his own for the moment, dancing out of reach of a host of vines before slicing the weeds to size. He was just about to ask if anyone had seen their attacker when the Mer resurfaced from the water and shouted the location before being pulled back under. The agile swordsman sheathed his swords and dove into the murky water without a moment’s hesitation.

Scottie
09-09-2018, 08:15 PM
Long strands of thin dark hair hung before her eyes, like weeds blocking her view. A harsh grumble left her lips as she pushed the hair back, plastering it to her skull. A deep aching started in her chest. It was a strange but oddly familiar feeling. The wanderer had felt it every time she had stumbled across a rune. It was like the magic called to her, demanded to be held in her palm. The Archer had been dragged to the murky depths, she already knew that his body would have not survived. Death was not new to her but it still held a dull sting.

A flicker of light to her left. By her feet. By her worn and dirty sandals. Pebbles that many men had shed blood for. Stones that hundreds had lost their lives for. They just lay there. The light held her gaze. She could have been easily dragged from the ice herself. The main stone that had fallen from the pouch held her attention, it’s size was similar to one that she knew well.

Dirt covered it. The lines were faint...they could have easily been the scratches of a pickaxe. It could have just been a pebble. A stone that had been rounded by an old stream. But it wasn’t just a pebble...it wasn’t just a stone. It had forced men to shed blood...many lost their lives for it….And it was hers. No. It had been his. Blood soaked fingernails scratched at the dirt. Her free hand messily wiped her cheek, smearing blood over pale skin. Screams of terror and rage infused shouts flooded the space around her but she was safe in the darkness for now. Her bones felt heavy, she was drained of all life but she knew she had many more fights before her. Thick blood dribbled from the axe by her feet but she ignored the stench, the screams, the panic in her chest...she just concentrated on the faint scratched symbol. Running her fingernail over it again and again.

Water sprayed over her face bringing her violently back to the present. The Mer screeched to them. “On the riverbed.” The Archer was in her tight grip but life was surely no longer in his body. The unsheathing of swords beside her had her feet plant themselves on the ice. She expected an attack on land to follow the one from the depths. The attack turned out to be one of her comrades diving into the water. “Fuck.”

It took no more hesitation. The wanderer bent and scraped the stones up into her grubby palm.

She felt a needle prick in her fingertip, like a spark had just jumped between the stone and her hand. The spark danced up her arm, unfolding like electric origami inside her head and etching letters of fire behind her eyes. And she knew, just as surely as if she had always known, that if she focused her gaze just so she could see through the darkness as though it was day, and count the fronds on the reeds a hundred yards away. It was as easy as breathing, as easy as thinking.

Her gaze lost focus for a brief moment, then she was back. The stones were pushed back into the pouch and the wanderer frantically tied them to her belt. “On the riverbed” The words echoed through her skull. Another body in the water would be a disadvantage to them. The dirt of the river bed was swirling through the murky water. A deep breath rattled from her chest as she bent on one knee. Her left hand hovered over the water. Concentration forced her brow to furrow, producing even more deep set wrinkles. The silt slowly listened to her, moving as she wished. She could see the Wraith...she could see the Mer...she could clear the way...she could help them see her, laying there on the riverbed.

Azazeal849
09-11-2018, 05:53 PM
The Weaver giggled to herself, squinting her rune-enhanced eyes to better watch her victims as they thrashed around blindly atop their ice bridge. A push of willpower sent more ropes of seaweed twisting up from the riverbed - sprouting, blossoming, snaring. The blonde kid bought himself a moment’s respite by popping out of his restraints with some kind of fire spell, but she had to admit that she was most impressed by the swordsman who sliced his way free of her seaweed ropes with no runecraft whatsoever.

Oh ho, you want to play a game, Mr Knife Guy? I like games. I tend to win them.

That was all runes were when it came down to it - a game, like children playing with burning sticks. No sense of how it worked or why, just that it made a pretty light and was liable to burn your hand off. She had been a simple travelling wizard, once - rejuvenating people’s crops for them through the dusty dry seasons. She had even done it for free, until a village on the Ash border had thrown their money at her to protect them from a pair of rogue mages who had gotten their hands on a fire rune.

She had even tried to reason with the two when they came skipping along, throwing fireballs left and right. Just bratty little kids with sticks. They hadn’t listened of course, because the villagers were Ashmen, and all Ashmen were evil heretic snake-eaters.

She had learned two things that day. Firstly, that growing stalks of rice and redcreeper was significantly less fun than pulling people’s heads off with them. And secondly, that she was going to stop hiring herself out for free; because even if you thought you were helping a good guy, someone else was going to think that they were a bad guy and get pissy about it. If they knew that the people had bribed you for your aid, at least they couldn’t accuse you of playing favourites.

The Leveler bribed extremely well.

Not only that, but she had given Weaver the extremely cushy job of just chilling down by the River, and vine-wrapping any Lightmen who tried to flee the siege. She had even gifted Weaver the touch of her own water-breathing rune to help. Now granted, Weaver would not have left the job of blockading the River solely to admiral Connor either - sure, it was better to have the reavers fighting for them rather than the Lightmen, and his knowledge of the waterways was better than any of the Ash captains...but unfortunately he was also an abrasive, lazy twit, who had been given the Black Spot by every other self-respecting pirate along the coast (and the Black Dick by every self-respecting floozy).

No doubt he was ashore chasing camp followers at this very moment, instead of helping his crewmen watch the waterways for fugitives like the ones Weaver was currently nabbing. Never mind; she was actually rather enjoying herself.

Her opponents had runes - she knew that from the moment the blonde one had cast his clever little ice bridge. But they were fighting blind. She could see in the dark, breathe underwater, and control a host of seaweed vines. You didn’t need to be a creepy tentacle fetishist to guess how this was going to end.

At least, that was what she thought until she heard a rattling series of clicks cut through the water.

At first she thought it was a dolphin, but dolphins never swam up the River past the Light city harbour. As she looked up, Weaver saw the red-haired woman still kicking the water as she tried to pull the dead man free of Weaver’s seaweed vines - except she was no longer kicking legs, but a long, silver fish tail.

Oh. Crap.

Weaver gaped behind her bubble mask. It didn’t make any sense - the Enlightened Ones’ holy war had driven the Mer back into the sea decades ago, and if the creepy shapeshifters were going to reappear now, surely it wouldn’t be to help the very nation that had declared a bloody pogrom against their species? But if they were suddenly stepping in on the Lightmen’s side, then Leveler was no longer the only one who -

Don’t be afraid of me. Be afraid of him.

The voice in Weaver’s head wasn’t her own, and it certainly didn’t flow from her own train of thought. It was a singularly unpleasant experience, and it almost made her lose control of her seaweed vines. Shaking her head to clear the painful flash that had whited out her vision, she saw that Mr Knife Guy had dived into the river and was swimming down towards her with his very long and very sharp swords strapped across his back. He didn’t even have a face, just an evil iron mask.

“Oh fuck off!” Weaver shouted into her bubble, and wrapped one of the ropes of seaweed around her own wrist to slingshot herself away from the terrifying man with his fucking mask and his fucking swords.

She breached the surface like a spectacularly ungraceful seal, the rune-cast bubble around her head popping as she landed with a splash among the reeds by the water’s edge. She scrambled up, coughing and spitting out cold, silty river-water.

Bugger Mr Knife Guy and his friends. She had to tell Leveler about the Mer - she had to tell her right fucking now.


* * * * * *

“On the riverbed!”

She could clear the way...she could help them see her, laying there on the riverbed.

“On the riv-...where on the fucking riverbed?” Solar was raging next to Wanderer. A sheen of white light glinted across his eyes and his fingers frosted over as he wrestled with one of the seaweed coils. The plant twisted and stiffened as the water inside its fleshy body froze solid. “Let me get the little shit! I’ll stab them ’til they’re more holey than the fucking Enlightened!”

There was a mighty splash off to their left, as something launched out of the water and landed in another eruption of spray among the reeds. The Ash mage emerged coughing, and started to claw her way up the bank towards the army camp.

“Oh my gods!” Illusion gasped, clapping her hands over her mouth. “It’s the Weaver! She’s one of the Leveler’s mercenaries!”

“She’s a bitch who’s about to get knocked the fuck out!” Solar shouted as he started running full tilt towards the exposed mage.

Price
09-19-2018, 01:45 AM
Mr. Knife Guy was not a particularly swift swimmer, even less of one with the wet armor weighing him down like an anchor. Nevertheless he was making his way toward the vine witch, with lethal intent in his eyes behind the mask. The Mer was closer to their foe than him, but he noticed that she did not seem to be taking any acts of aggression on her own, as if she was leaving that job to him. As he swam closer, he heard the witch yell something that seemed to be directed at him, but it was garbled and unintelligible with the bubble mask covering her mouth. Now that she was closer, the Wraith got his first proper look at the woman, even if the murky water still obscured her a bit. She was not what he had expected, looking far less rugged than he had imagined and younger still. She seemed almost too young to be caught up in this business of bloodshed. Even still, as pitiful and regrettable as it was, the fact remained that she needed to pay for her sins.

Just as he was closing in on her, the woman slungshot her away just out of his reach, his hand grasping for her ankle but coming up empty. ‘Damn!’ he thought. How would the battle turn out now that she breached the surface? Would his failure to capture her beneath the water cause more of his comrades to be slain? The Wraith refused to allow his own incompetence to be anyone else’s undoing, swimming back to the surface with as much speed as he could muster beneath the weight of his armor.

Scottie
09-20-2018, 09:03 PM
The enemy mage that Illusion had called the Weaver was busy scrambling up the near bank of the river, fighting the dragging robes that clung to her legs. Reeds twisted and bent aside of their own accord to get out of the mage’s way, and several of them sprouted and twisted together to form a rope that she grasped to pull herself up the bank. She was already shouting at the top of her voice, trying to get the attention of the distant army camp.

“Weaver!” Illusion yelled over her. She was channelling some kind of rune which made her skin radiate silver, glowing in pale relief against the gloomy river.

The enemy mage almost slipped back down her rope as she turned towards the unexpected hail. Wanderer saw her cease shouting to gape at the Ash turncoat, as Illusion had no doubt intended. As a consequence she almost missed Solar pelting towards her, until the youth revealed himself in a burst of yellow and red as he conjured fire between his hands.

“Get wrecked, bitch!”

The fireball left his hands and jousted forward, forcing the Weaver to let go of her rope and splash back into the water to avoid it. The fireball hit the bank and burst like a firework, raining sparks. The Weaver reached out a hand and snatched it into a fist, pulling back. A loop of overgrown seaweed hooked out of the river and swept Solar’s feet from under him, causing him to fall with a curse and vanish beneath the water.

The Weaver resumed her scrambling climb up onto the bank. Wraith and the Ambassador resurfaced some distance behind, but they were too far away to intervene.

The cloth around Weaver’s legs seemed to be on their side, thick robes dragging her backwards towards the water like the claws of an underwater demon. One of the Leveler’s mercenaries. The Wanderer had figured that, who else would have such power to throw them off their path? Certainly, there were plenty of simple growing runes to be found across the Valley. They were used mostly by agricultural wizards, though a few who didn’t care about burning out their nerves actively weaponised them. Clearly this Weaver was one of them. She dipped her hand into the water and then brought herself to standing. Flicking the water out forced small ripples to bounce towards the scrambling mess of a “Weaver”. There was some pale illusion rippling on the water, and a single glance to her left told her that the newcomer had runes of their own.

The Wanderer could only watch as the hot-head child rushed the Weaver. Fireworks...wow...Good idea. The laugh that shot from her lips was probably far too loud. She just couldn’t contain it, seeing Solar land harshly on his back was fucking funny. She let the others deal with the soaked child as she plucked up her axe and tossed it in her grip.

She couldn’t risk losing the axe...but the arrows bobbing in the water by her were expendable. The enemy mage continued to scramble up the bank, her fingers digging into the dirt as her hoarse cries continued. That needed to stop. No more screaming. The arrows were sodden but they would do. Her gaze flicked up to the woman who was nearing the top of the bank.

A deep breath left her dry cracked lips and she let a familiar warmth soar through her chest. Her grip tightened on the arrow as she waited for the woman to pause in her struggle up to dry ground. The Weaver scrambled to the top of the bank, stumbled once, and huffed out a breath. She spun round to check if any of the others were on her tail, hands raised ready to cast, but instead her eyes simply fell on Wanderer.

Panting, the enemy mage stared at her; dark hair plastered to her head, olive skin creasing around her eyes as she squinted at the arrow cocked in Wanderer’s hand.

“You must be fucking joking.” she blurted in staccato Ash.

Hands were spread out before her, she was ready to attack. The Wanderer stayed still for a moment as the Weaver frantically scanned her over. Another deep breath left her lungs and she let her hand pull back, before using all her might to fling the arrow through the air. The arrow whistled from her grip with rune-cast strength, screaming through the air towards the Weaver.

The second arrow was plucked from the water and after a sharp shake to remove any excess water, it joined its sister in the air. The Wanderer’s aim was not half bad, she prided herself on that at least.

The Weaver looked down at the two arrows protruding from her chest.

“Oh.” she deadpanned, and fell flat on the riverbank.

The Wanderer sucked in a short breath through her teeth as the enemy mage fell forwards truly embedding the arrows in her chest. Death was never glamourous, she had never witnessed someone fall asleep and merely never wake up...life always had a violent ending. Blood started to mix with the mud that was creeping back down the hill towards the waters edge. But blood did not mean death. The wanderer felt water droplets dribble from her fingers as she headed towards the fallen mage.

From the camp beyond came the sound of shouted orders and alerts, and newly-lit torches were dancing. Somewhere upriver, an Ash warship was blowing a warning horn.

“We need to go.” Illusion urged, threading past Wanderer and pulling up the Ambassador, who was still floating in the dark water. The mer seemed to be bowed over Archer’s body, as if reciting some kind of prayer. Wanderer saw the shadow of a long fishtail waving beneath the surface, but as Illusion pulled the mer onto the rune-cast bridge, it was a human leg she hooked up onto the ice.

Archer’s lifeless body bobbed away on the current.

Others brushed past her towards the Mer who seemed huddled over the Archer. Life left that man as soon as he hit the water. No words were given by the Wanderer, for nothing she could utter would be close to the prayers that the Mer spoke. Instead, the Wanderer concentrated on the spluttering live idiot who was near the water's edge. She twisted one hand in the material of his jacket and plucked him from the water with ease. The strength within her would last only a short while longer.

“Move. Now.” She told him bluntly as he started with the many excuses to why he had failed. “Dammit, that cheap shot came from my right! Still can’t see out of that eye!” She let him fall harshly onto the mud as she continued up to the Weaver. No movement. The Wanderer sniffed as she crouched beside the corpse. One arrow had pierced through the flesh and now stood proudly in her back. That was all the evidence she needed, grubby fingers tugged at the bracelet around the Weavers wrist and deposited the twine wound ornament in her pocket.

The cries of nearby soldiers floated towards them. This fight was not yet over.

Azazeal849
09-21-2018, 03:10 PM
The wind had picked up, snapping at the Leveler’s gown like an angry dog at her heels. It pulled at the torches in the soldiers’ hands, stretching the yellow pools of light that flickered across the ground. Ahead, orders flew back and forth in clipped Ash.

Someone had pushed upriver and crossed the siege line under the cover of darkness. Someone had slipped the net.

Spearmen were fanning out across the bank to form a cordon, some of them standing knee-deep in the brackish riverwater. Many of them looked drawn and tousled from sleep, rubbing at their gummy eyes as they moved. A longship with oars retracted had dropped anchor in the centre of the stream, its mast a black spear in the moonlight. Bronze-armoured marines were splashing ashore, and the Leveler recognised the thickset admiral Connor among them. He was unarmoured, and unarmed save for a sword-belt that had been hastily cinched over his tunic. The torchlight deepened the dark circles under his eyes, making the former pirate look like a corpse. Clearly, he had not been awake and on duty when the alarm came.

“Urgh.” the Leveler heard him groan as his men helped him up onto the riverbank. “Gods, I hate this feeling.”

“Sobriety?” the Leveler suggested tartly as she drew level with him.

The admiral lowered the hand that was massaging his brow and gaped defensively. “This wasn’t my fault!”

The Leveler bit her tongue. True or not, she disliked the immediate attempt at deflection. “I’m not trying to pin this on you.” she reassured tonelessly. “I’m trying to get to the bottom of it.”

“Well stop looking for me there!”

The Leveler dismissed him with a gesture, before the urge to fling him back to his ship on a fireball’s coat-tails became too strong.

“My lady!” a voice hailed from further along the riverbank, “Over here!”

The Apprentice had been inspecting the picket line when the alarm came, and had arrived on the scene before her. Blademaiden and Redmoor were with him. The three were clustered around a slumped bundle of robes, lying in the mud at the top of the near bank. Two arrows jutted from the bundle, each planted at the centre of a dark red circle stained into the fabric. The Apprentice raised his hand as the Leveler approached, casting a sphere of white light over the casualty.

“Oh.” the Leveler said coldly, when she realised who it was. “I see.”

She stretched out a foot and nudged the Weaver’s face to turn her lolling head. The dead woman’s eyes were still open; she looked surprised.

The Leveler chewed the inside of her cheek, slowly. It was she who had set the Weaver to patrolling the river. A simple job for a simple mercenary. Too simple, as it turned out. Still, better a mercenary slain than one of her inner circle. Mercenaries followed her for gold, and gold was fickle. The Ashmen followed her because they believed.

Still, this should not have happened - and her followers knew it.

The Blademaiden went to one knee beside Weaver’s corpse, bowing her head respectfully. The Apprentice was biting his lip, as if he might weep. The Leveler did not have that luxury, even if she had been that way inclined. She clenched her fist. Someone had slipped the net.

Another gust of wind, this one more like a breath hissed out through fanged teeth, brushed past the Leveler as a pillar of smoke coiled up from further down the riverbank and reformed beside her. The smoke shredded away and the Dark Man stepped out of it, dumping a second body at her feet.

“I found this one washed up a little further down.” the mage whispered. With his ragged hood cowling his head, even the Apprentice’s rune-cast light seemed unable to chase the shadows away from his cadaverous face.

The Leveler tilted her head downward. She saw a dead man who had been tall and rangy, with salt-and-pepper hair now bedraggled by the water that had enveloped his corpse. It wasn’t hard to tell how he had died - his head hung at an ugly angle off his shoulders. A leather quiver was slung across his back, empty after spilling its contents into the river. Here’s our killer.

“A bowman?” Redmoor growled. At his side, his curled fingers were ticking against his palm. “A common fucking bowman killed a mage?”

“No.” The Leveler extended an arm, pointing to the riverbank a few metres away. Near to where the reeds had twisted themselves into a rope at the runes’ command, other plants were blackened and scorched. “Fire runes. A fire mage wouldn’t bother with arrows. There were two of them, perhaps more.”

“And she fought them alone?” Redmoor shook his head. “What would you say is the height of stupidity?”

“I don’t know,” Leveler heard the Blademaiden mutter as she rose cat-like back to her feet. “How tall are you?”

The Leveler silenced their bickering with an upraised hand, before Redmoor could retaliate.

At least one mage. Deserters? Surely not one of the Enlightened…

“We need to find out where they went.” she asserted. “Someone go fetch the Hole.”

Redmoor winced. “Oh gods, not her.”

Her lieutenant's unease wasn’t exactly unfounded, the Leveler mused. For a start, no self-respecting mage would ever call themself the Hole. But there were some runes that changed the caster’s...perspective, and some of those more than others. And besides, even if the Tracker might have made for a more respectable name, it wouldn’t have masked the mage’s other eccentricities.

Either way, the Leveler was in no mood for argument.

“Do you have a better idea?” she countered, sharply. “Come morning, I’ll need the rest of you here. Now do as I command.”

Turning on her heel, the Leveler began to stride back towards the camp. Whoever had slipped past the siege lines and slain the Weaver, she could not allow herself or her agents to be distracted from their true objective. The Enlightened City loomed ahead of her, the great marble pyramid at its centre silhouetted in the moonlight. The breach that Redmoor had carved in the city’s eastern wall was still clearly visible. The Leveler smiled tightly.

She was crossing the staked ditch at the perimeter of her camp when the Burning One accosted her.

“What is it?” she asked her hulking lieutenant.

The Burning grinned, and the scars across his face turned the expression into something nightmarish. “Someone to see you, m’lady.”


* * * * * *

“That was much too close.” Solar grumbled. Most of the others were conserving their breath as the ground sloped steadily upwards, but somehow the younger mage still found the energy to complain. “And we lost Archer too.”

Padding along beside him, the Ambassador just shrugged her thin shoulders, as if to say that their comrade’s death was just an expected part of life. The snake-priests had always preached that the mer had a twisted view of life, death and time. Then again, perhaps their companion was just preoccupied at being so far from water.

They had come many kilometres; half-crawling, half-floating through the rice paddies, dashing in stops and starts between dusty-dry hedgerows, and finally breaking into a full run once a fold in the ground concealed them from the torches gathering beside the river. They had not stopped until the sounds and smells of the army camp were far behind them, and now the Enlightened City itself had vanished as they wound their way up into the hills.

The sun had risen and was already beating down with a vengeance, turning the old mud track into cracked brick beneath their feet. Once this had been a miner’s road, and blood had oozed down into the fissured clay as Lightmen and Ashmen and Risemen fought to command access to the mountain mines. But no runes had been dug out of the ore seams here for decades, and so the Rise and Ash armies had pulled back - unwilling to spend lives for mere iron and tin that could be mined much closer to home. There were no more runes to be found up here, it seemed.

Well, there had been stories of one rune…

Less than half a year ago, the mineworkers had come racing down into the outer slums of the Enlightened City, raving about a glowing pebble that had consumed one of their friends in blue fire, burning his eyes right out of his skull. The question was on all their minds: was this the same runestone that the Illusion had warned them about? The Greater Moonstone she had called it. If runes truly were pieces of the shattered gods, as the snake-priests taught, then this was a piece of the elder moon god - with his power to create, and recreate, and reform.

Only the mer had ever had the power to change their forms. For a human to claim any kinship with those godless creatures was blasphemy - or so the Enlightened had thundered from atop their pyramid, three generations ago at the height of their War of Faith.

Blasphemy or not, if such a rune existed then anyone who touched it would be a god among men. What was age, to someone who could reshape and rejuvenate their own flesh? What was the cut of a blade, or the piercing of an arrow? What was the blindness and the shaking and the burned-out nerves - the eventual curse of all mages - to someone who could reknit and reverse any wound?

It had been enough to draw both the Leveler and the Immortal, and the two most powerful mages in the Valley had apparently had it out atop this very mountain. In the end, the Immortal’s name had proven false, and the Leveler had claimed the prize.

But what kind of prize had she claimed? Even the mer could not ignore that question, it seemed. The Ambassador glided alongside them with silent steps, sea-blue eyes fixed ahead and keeping her own council.

They met no-one else on the road. Even the Lightmen had abandoned the hills now. The miners who had trudged up and down this road mere months ago had all fled, seeking shelter in the Enlightened City from the Leveler and her advancing army. With their enemies gone, the Ashmen had clearly seen no reason to guard the mines either. They were focused on the prize of the Enlightened City itself.

Perhaps the assault that the enemy mages had promised was already beginning.

The going got harder as they sloped relentlessly upward. Unmaintained, the road was being reclaimed by weeds and thorns, and in places the baked clay underfoot changed to treacherous slopes of loose scree.

Winding up through spurs and gullies, they eventually came to a plateau where new-cut stone and piles of ore lay in abandoned heaps. The wind plucked at the dry ground, sending miniature dust devils twirling and chasing each other around their feet. Reaching out with his runecraft, the Raven could sense the faded red glare of a past rune-battle. The traces were months old, but so powerful that they lingered even now. Part of the trace seemed to be thrumming from beneath their feet, deep within the mountain itself.

“We need to go down the mines?” Illusion asked when the other mage told them.

“A problem, perhaps.” the Ambassador chimed in, folding her blue-tinted arms.

The others could see what she meant. The entrance to the mineshaft was blocked, covered by a pile of rocks that could only have been collapsed by powerful runecraft.

Minkasha
09-23-2018, 07:55 AM
Following down the river, Cara was an interesting sight to see in the night. Her hair had its own illumination, in a quiet competition with the night sky above. The flow of her dreads covering a fast depth of twinkling space the row man almost got lost staring into. Cara’s only returning expression was ever a smile, not touched by these realities which bothered others. What did affect her was the Leveler finding purpose for her now.

The Hole was experiencing a sense of pride, belonging. Being called to the front lines of her liberation. The bobbing boat was stopped by a row stabbed into the mud. Nothing about her entrance was ceremonial. Where ever she went, Cara noticed people were not there to greet her. Like the stars in her hair, she was to be looked at but kept far away. The Hole might find it acceptable if the Leveler said that is what it was required. Often it seemed the Leveler’s silence and distance suggested that.

But for now, opportunity to see the leader of the liberation and everyone else!

“Thank you” The mixed Lightmen and Ashmen woman told the soldier who took her this far. To cross the ditch Cara did by herself, earning more stairs at the sight of her sparkling hair, eyebrows and even eyelashes. She dove for the hart of the camp, swaying her hips and glancing around without worry of the others. She poked into tent, one into the next without grace or tact until she found the Leveler’s, ignoring her patrols and sticking her head inside. “HELLO? YOUR HOLE IS HERE MY LADY! YOUR LOYAL HOLE READY TO SERVE YOU!”

Scottie
10-02-2018, 11:02 AM
Their escape was all too familiar a journey. Dirt caked her fingernails, nettles stung her ankles and then the frantic dash for safety. Fearing the lights that floated just out of view. It was physically and emotionally draining. The wanderer wanted nothing more than to rest. Every passing minute had her regretting answering the pitiful request of the Enlightened City.

Sweat gathered in every crease of skin, dirt lines were etched into her forehead as the sun relentlessly bore down on them. The wanderer kept silent. Her words were of no use to her comrades now. They had lost one of their own and she had brought the harsh end to an enemy. Death was nothing new to her. She greeted it like an old friend. It was not the first time she had killed someone...nor would it be the last. The first were revenge driven kills. She wanted to bathe in their blood, she wanted them to suffer and know pain like she knows pain.

But this was different. This was someone attacking her group...and she took on a protective role. Yes, she could convince herself it was to protect only herself...but deep down she knows that she did it for them all. Life was something so easily taken by that monster, she had cracked the Archer’s neck against the ice like it was all a game. Still, the wanderer did feel a little flicker of pleasure in watching the Weaver’s shocked expression before her face hit the mud.

Fatigue gnawed at her, every step felt heavy and she desperately needed to rest. It had only been for a brief moment that she used the rune that lay against her skin...but it was enough to wind her for part of the day. The landscape changed but she paid little attention to it. Once upon a time, she had looked upon it with awe. Every tree was viewed with wide eyes, every body of water had her peering in for her reflection...she cared little for it now. The joy had left her quickly when she realised how many enemies hid in the green...how many enemies hid beneath the murky water.

“We need to go down the mines?”

Her eyes drifted back into focus, forced out of her thoughts by a dreadful suggestion. A mineshaft...blocked by rubble...good. “I am not going down there. We’ll find another way.” The wanderer stated bluntly. Dropping herself onto a nearby flat shaped, she let the axe hit the dirt and rested the handle against her thigh. Weary green eyes scanned the group before her, stopping on the Mer who seemed to be rather annoyed at the closed mine. “You.” She nodded at the Mer. “These were on the fallen Archer and the enemy. Keeping them to myself doesn’t seem right...not when I know where they came from. Either look after them yourself or divide them amongst us. I care little what you decide.”

Her hand lay outstretched with the small muddy bag of runes that the Archer had left and the band of runes that the Weaver had worn. Yes, she had already touched the precious runes. Holding them tightly in her grip as she feared losing them, something that people were easily killed for. She walked along those that yearned for power, carrying another piece of the puzzle that would lead them to that power. She had let questions swirl around her skull the entire journey here. Should she keep them for herself? Throw them away….NO, that was just stupid! Should she give them out to the others...no she didn’t trust them to truly share and not use them against her...not just yet. The Mer. She didn’t trust the Mer as far as she could throw her (which was rather far for a rather scrawny looking wanderer). But the Mer was feared by most of them here...or at least a little respected. She would know what to do with the runes.

“Take them.”

Azazeal849
10-02-2018, 11:11 PM
She poked into tent, one into the next without grace or tact until she found the Leveler’s, ignoring her patrols and sticking her head inside. The leader of the Ashmen was standing with a knot of men and women, their faces illuminated by a rune-cast light that flickered and bobbed in the air between them. Cara did not recognise all of them, but as always it was easy to tell the wizards from the soldiers - the first were clad in fine silks; the latter in bronze and leather.

“HELLO?” Cara called out, brightly and at excessive volume. “YOUR HOLE IS HERE MY LADY! YOUR LOYAL HOLE READY TO SERVE YOU!”

Silence.

The Leveler had frozen in place, her eyes scrunched closed as if she were praying. Everyone else was staring at Cara, and most of them were making heroic efforts to press their lips tight together and contain sniggers of amusement. At least one of the soldiers failed, the laugh spurting out of him as he doubled over with shoulders quaking. The flatulent sound was obscenely loud in the silent tent.

The Leveler’s own shoulders heaved up and down as she took a breath, sighed it out, and blinked open her eyes.

“Hole…” she said in a strained voice. Behind her, another soldier cracked. An older mage, standing safely at the back where the others couldn’t see, waggled his eyebrows in Cara’s direction.

“Hole,” the Leveler pressed on valiantly, and cleared her throat. “I’ve got a job for you. One or more Lightmen, probably mages, slipped past the siege lines earlier this evening. This man…” She paused to indicate one of the nondescript soldiers. “Might know where they’re headed. I need you to go with him and do what you do best.”

“Mmm hmm?” the mage at the back hummed suggestively, dipping his chin and fluttering his eyebrows again.

The Leveler gripped the bridge of her nose with one hand, and threw the other out behind her. The grinning mage was ejected from the tent, leaving a vaguely man-shaped hole in the canvas.


* * * * * *

The Ambassador blinked her big, liquid eyes at the Wanderer.

“Take them.”

The mer’s eyes dropped from Wanderer’s own to the grubby bag in her outstretched hand. After what looked like an intense few moments of internal deliberation, the pale shapeshifter stepped forward to meet her. She reached out and took the bag and the bracelet rather gingerly, holding them between thumb and forefinger as if she expected something to slither out of the bag and bite her.

“Landwalkers do not often share runes.” the creature burbled quietly. “Why...is this?”

“The same reason rich people do not often share gold.” the Raven answered off-handedly. He didn’t turn around, still sweeping his outstretched arm across rocks and boulders as he focused on the rune-imprints around them.

“Mer runes...not good…” the Ambassador mused, in her strange lilting accent. “But to keep them…” She looked around the group. “Yes. Balance.”

With exaggerated care, she transferred the bracelet into the safety of the bag and pulled tight the drawstring, tying it around the belt of her still-damp tunic.

“Hey.” Solar spoke up, folding his arms across his chest and looking at Wanderer. “I’m not moving this rubble all on my own, and I’m sure as hell not going back empty handed when what we’re looking for is clearly right fucking here. Why are you so bothered about some old mine?”

Illusion peeled her lips back over gritted teeth and punched the younger man firmly in the shoulder. Solar yelped in protest and looked round for an explanation. The deserter mage raised her eyebrows sharply, glancing towards Wanderer and then back at Solar. As an Ashwoman herself, she had clearly guessed Wanderer’s origins from the scars that were written across her skin. Many Ash slaves had lived and died in mines like the one beneath their feet.

Solar held the Illusion’s stare, eyeing her searchingly. He might not have understood what she meant, but he seemed to at least understand enough to fall quiet.

“I agree with the grumpy one.” said a voice.

The whole group pulled up short - even the mer, who glanced around and then up at the sky for the source of the words. Raven and Solar were more aggressive, hands flying to the weapons on their belts.

“Who goes there?” Raven questioned sharply, a frown deepening the lines of his weather-beaten face. His outstretched palm twitched left and right. Even the Wanderer could feel the ambient rune force - a tingling that prickled her skin and made the hairs on her arms raise with static. Picking out anything specific among the fuzz of background noise would be difficult, even for someone with scrying runes.

“If you’re looking for the Moonstone,” the voice came again, carelessly ignoring the Raven’s challenge, “Then I’m afraid you’re too late. It’s not here.”

Solar looked to the Wraith, his green eyes narrowing suspiciously. The Ambassador was the first to move, her bare feet scuffing dust from the ground as she padded round the side of a heaped shale midden. Illusion started after her, and the others followed at their own pace.

Behind the midden was a sizeable crater, scorched almost black in contrast to the sun-bleached earth around. In the centre, buried up to his neck in the loose sand and rubble, was a man.

He was a handsome man; perhaps forty or fifty years of age, with a bald pate and deep brown skin that gleamed in the morning sunlight. His dark eyes looked up at them all, appraising and clearly unamused.

“Who are you?” the Ambassador asked, taking in the man’s strange predicament.

“That’s a deep, existential question.” the buried man intoned. One of his eyes narrowed as he looked up at the willowy, blue-tinged mer. “But you can call me the Immortal.”

“The Im-” Illusion blurted, her mouth falling open. “But the Leveler…you’re supposed to be dead!”

“I’ll refer you back to my name.” the buried man answered dryly. “Now, would you mind digging me out?”

Solar made a skeptical noise. “Won’t you attack us?”

“Would I bother to ask for your help if that was my plan?” the buried man countered. “You think I need to wave my hands at you to call lightning down on your head?”

Solar looked at Raven, who looked at the Wraith. Again, it was the mer who stepped forward first, with the Illusion moving to hang on her heels. The Ash sorceress was careful to stand to the side, leaving her companions a clear shot at the buried man’s head if anything untoward happened.

“Dig in, ladies.” the Immortal prompted. “No need to be shy.”

The Ambassador stooped to her knees, the matted dreadlocks of her hair falling across her shoulders. Somewhat hesitantly, she began to scoop at the burned sand around the Immortal’s throat.

A chin, a neck, and nothing else revealed themselves beneath the mer’s scraping hands.

“Oh!” the Ambassador said, her mouth forming a perfect circle of surprise as the buried man’s severed head tilted over and landed with a soft thump on its cheek.

“Ow.” the Immortal complained, looking displeased.

The Illusion’s reaction was more visceral. “Oh my gods.” she squealed, clapping both hands over her mouth and recoiling back. “You’re a head!”

Looking at her sideways, the Immortal’s dark eyes opened wide in feigned alarm. “Am I?” he pretended to panic. “Oh shit, I hadn’t noticed!”

His eyebrows drew down in an irritated huff, and he let his gaze roam up to the Ambassador who was still staring down at him as she knelt in the sand.

“You never told me your name.”

The mer blinked at him, her head cocked curiously to one side. “I am the Ambassador.”

The Immortal twisted his mouth, considering for a moment. “Too long. I’m going to call you Ambie.”

The Ambassador frowned. “Why not Amber?” she suggested, her tone almost pouting.

“Nah, you’re definitely an Ambie.” the Immortal said. “What’s a mer doing up here? I thought you kept to your underwater caves. Actually strike that, I don’t care. This lot look more interesting.”

He pursed his lips, focusing on the others. His eye fell particularly on Wraith with his forbidding iron mask, and on Wanderer with her heavy pickaxe.

“So who are you, then?”

Price
10-03-2018, 02:58 AM
The Wraith remained silent in contemplation as the band marched away from the excitement at the river bank. Even though violence and killing was in his very nature, the man took great pains to not grow desensitized to such acts. His slayings had always been an act of mercy, either righteous retribution on behalf of the deceased or else a euthanasia of a rabid creature no longer human. There was always a higher purpose, a greater moral good. As he followed behind the Mer and these mercenaries, he replayed their battle in his mind’s eye. The young inexperienced bowman, neck snapped and life extinguished, floated downstream never to receive respectable burial. Their enemy, just as young, was the first casualty of the Leveler that the Wraith had knowingly been a party to. He had hoped to take her alive, to speak with her, if for no other reason than to understand why the Leveler inspired such extreme devotion. The look of her was pitiful, stretched out flat on her back, eyes wide with shock, mouth agape. Two young lives had been taken, potential wasted.

Was it worth it? Had the young bowman been personally invested in this conflict, or had he sacrificed his life in pursuit of mere coin. And as for their enemy, the young woman with the vines, it seemed to the Wraith that she had been rather unbalanced from the start. Had she known her ultimate fate, would she have been prepared to follow this Leveler to the grave? The longer that he thought it over, the more unsure the Wraith became, and the less necessary this violence seemed.

He had been so lost in his thoughts that he had not paid attention to the arduous climb up the mountain along unkempt, dilapidated roads nor the burn in his calves and thighs that resulted from it. He had also not paid attention to the fact that the entire group had come to a halt, and so he very nearly walked into the Wanderer, only just managing to bring himself to a stop in time to avoid an awkward and clumsy incident, though no one seemed to notice.

He remained quiet as the others spoke of their dilemma with the mine entrance being blocked, appearing rather unconcerned about the situation. Whether that was actually the case or whether he was simply silently observing and planning was not entirely clear. He continued to be less than invested in their troubles until he heard the voice. The Immortal, in the flesh…mostly….partly, appearing before them. It was certainly an interesting development.

“So who are you then?”

“I have many names in many regions, though the one I seem to be called by most often, is the Wraith…” he answered. His eyes, curious though they were, tore away from the disembodied head of the Immortal to the group at large. “I can go no further. The prayers for the wicked have been neglected for far too long already, I must complete them.” With that, the Wraith turned his back on the group and began walking away to find somewhere more private.

Scottie
10-04-2018, 09:15 AM
It was rather comical the way the Mer picked up the rune bags, almost childlike as wide eyes scanned the bag for a trick or snapping creature. The Wanderer slowly blinked at the Mer before her and would have responded but the Raven beat her to it. A single nod was given in agreement. He was correct to an extent. She didn’t feel like hoarding tiny magical rocks, it didn’t feel right given the situation they were in. But she also didn’t want blood runes staining her soul. She already had one that burned through her every waking moment.

“I’m not moving this rubble all on my own, and I’m sure as hell not going back empty handed when what we’re looking for is clearly right fucking here. Why are you so bothered about some old mine?”

She didn’t respond, she merely pressed the head of her axe into the dirt and pushed herself to her feet. As she turned towards Solar, the axe was heaved over her shoulder. Once again, before she could respond another took the opportunity. Her forehead furrowed as the Illusion punched Solar in the shoulder. Not good enough. If he hadn’t shut his mouth in time, she would have broken his jaw. She let her weary gaze fall to the rocks before them, they reeked of power but she still could see some that had the tell tale signs of worked stone. Heavy chisels and axes that sliced through stone after stone after stone...

“I agree with the grumpy one.”

The axe was lifted from her shoulder and the weapon came to hang by her side. Her knuckles white as her grip tightened around the handle. Where the fuck did that voice come from? The Raven used something that forced the hairs on the back of her neck to raise up. She shook her head violently as the voice continued. Moonstone….Before the words could truly settle, the Mer was off. Her feet scuttling in the dust, forcing it to dance around her.

A deep sigh left her chest and she rolled her eyes before following the others. They were like curious cats. She expected to find another group of travellers playing a trick, perhaps a sole mage that was setting up a trap….but not a man...buried to his shoulders in the earth. Oh the temptation to chuckle was too much and a small smirk burned itself across her lips. Had he been buried by the earthquake...or a bunch of meddling kids burying a sleeping man. The stupidly silly possibilities were endless.

She did not think it to be a punishment. She knew that some masters could be “imaginative” when it came to punishments. But burying a slave above ground...away from the mine...would be foolish. “That’s a deep, existential question.” Her smile dropped as she already knew this man would be trouble. Could they not leave him here…He was nobody...The Immortal. Her eyebrows shot up to her hairline. She knew that mage couldn’t have died...a man with an ego big enough to call himself the Immortal, knew that he had enough power to survive any attack.

“He needs no hands to cast lightning down upon us...but needs help to move a little bit of dirt.” The Wanderer added her observation as the Mer dropped to her knees before the snappy head.

The Wanderer’s gaze had drifted upwards. With every other member of the party focusing on the buried man, it would be the perfect time for an attack. Dull green eyes drifted over the crater, it wasn’t made by man. No slave was forced to dig out these rocks. But something seemed to buzz around them and it was unsettling.

“Oh my gods.” she squealed, clapping both hands over her mouth and recoiling back. “You’re a head!”

That was enough of a strange statement to force the Wanderer to glance down to the buried….head. Her eyes went wide and she watched the head continue to express it’s disapproval at having been left in the dirt on its side. The sharp response of the Immortal had a harsh laugh leave the Wanderer who just couldn’t help herself. He was a head. The mighty and powerful Immortal….was a rolling head who couldn’t even sit upright by himself.

She managed to stifle her chuckles when he spoke to other members of the party. It explained the desperate need for him to be released from the dirt. Ambie...The Wanderer’s smile dropped and she shook her head softly. Don’t give out cute names, you idiot. The talking head was rather rude to people who had just freed him from his dirt prison. He snapped between conversations like his life depended on it.

His gaze drifted between the heavily armoured Wraith and herself. A single eyebrow was raised as she left her companion speak first. “I have many names in many regions, though the one I seem to be called by most often, is the Wraith…” The Wanderer did not have such a mysterious way to introduce herself. She let the gruff voiced man leave the group and glanced over her shoulder only once to see which direction he was headed in.

When her gaze returned to the dirt covered head, she let her shoulders drop in a deep sigh. The Wanderer took two steps closer to the head and let her axe hit the dirt and sigh to her left. It was heavy enough to shake the small balls of dirt that were now rolling away from him. She crouched down and let her eyes scan over the head. “I am the Wanderer.”

She reached out and plucked the head from the soil. Standing with it in her grip. At first, she let him sit normally so he could see the others and the destruction that surrounded him. She paused before turning him upside down in her hands. “How did you become just a head then?” The wanderer asked as she turned him over, seeing if perhaps he had a tiny body sticking out from his neck...no. Nor did he had any runes carved into the back of his head. She just kept turning him. “Doesn’t seem like something the mighty Immortal would let happen, hm?” The wanderer asked, finally letting the head settle back so he could see them all.

Azazeal849
10-10-2018, 07:10 PM
“I have many names in many regions, though the one I seem to be called by most often, is the Wraith…”

The Immortal was working his jaw, trying to dislodge the sand stuck to his cheek while the Ambassador awkwardly set him back upright on his stump of a neck. When he heard the Wraith speak his name, the Immortal’s lips puckered into an impressed oooooh.

“You’re the Wraith?” He paused to frown. “You’re bigger than I imagined. How does the Valley’s biggest vigilante sneak up on anyone, especially with a mask like that?”

Wraith’s eyes tore away from the disembodied head of the Immortal to the group at large. “I can go no further. The prayers for the wicked have been neglected for far too long already, I must complete them.”

The Immortal watched him go, and arched an eyebrow. “I don’t think the wicked need your prayers. They’re usually living the high life, not like those chumps with morals. Mind you, give someone a candle and a funny mask and they’ll make a religion out of anything.”

The Raven hooked his thumbs into his belt, looking serious. “I believe he plans to mourn the dead.”

The Immortal clicked his tongue. “They probably need his prayers even less, then.”

He paused, and returned his gaze to the Wanderer.

“I like you, you look pretty cynical. What’s your name?”

Wanderer let her axe hit the dirt and crouched down, letting her eyes scan over the head. “I am the Wanderer.”

The Immortal’s disembodied head twisted its mouth and looked off to the side, considering. “Not a bad mage-name.” he allowed after a moment, “Not the best I’ve heard, but...hey!”

That last came as she reached out and plucked his head from the soil. She paused before turning him upside down in her hands.

“Ahem.” the former mage protested waspishly.

He was still strangely warm in her hands, though the stump of his neck was burned and black. How he was talking without any lungs to push the air was a mystery - though hardly the biggest one about his current condition.

“How did you become just a head then?” the Wanderer asked as she turned him over. “Doesn’t seem like something the mighty Immortal would let happen, hm?”

The Immortal blew out his cheeks in a weary sigh. “It might have had something to do with the Leveler, a lightning bolt, and a reflecting rune I didn’t know she had. A total cheap shot, if you want my opinion.”

“Ah crap.” Solar groaned. “If the Leveler blew you up, does that mean she now has all of your runes too?”

The Immortal gave him a withering look. “Does she fuck. You think I’m stupid enough to carry them around with me everywhere I go? Do you know what makes powerful mages different?”

The young redhead scratched his neck. “Apart from having more runes?”

“Yeah.”

“Then no.”

The Immortal huffed. “They're good at guarding against metaphorical gold diggers. I don’t need to keep my runes on me to cast them...and that includes smiting all of your dumb asses right here and now, by the way.” The head’s dark eyes roved over the group. “But then, it’s not Leveler having my runes you should be worried about.”

The Ambassador rose from her knees, her tunic falling in crisp folds. “The Greater Moonstone?”

“Wow, I see the fabled mer wisdom is real after all. Yes, Ambie, she has the Greater Moonstone.”

“I told you.” Illusion said gravely, plucking at the pendant that hung around her neck.

“Hey, wait a second.” Solar broke in, raising a finger, “For those of us who aren’t pretentious, all-knowing assholes, what is a Greater Moonstone?”

The Immortal squinted at him for a second. “It’s a shapeshifting rune, boy. Some clever people theorised that if the mer can do it, then there must be a rune for it out there somewhere. Turns out they were right. Your Enlightened Ones would probably call it heresy but I bet they would still grab it if they could.”

He chuckled to himself.

“A shame that Leveler’s buggered off with it. I could make much better use of it than her right now.” He offered Wanderer and Illusion a winning smile - an expression his perfectly white teeth were well suited for. “I don’t suppose either of you fine ladies is up for providing a piggyback over to the Light city?”


* * * * * *

The Wraith didn’t have to walk far to find solitude, which came in the form of a small gully winding down to a blocked off mine entrance. Unlike the collapsed main tunnel above, this one looked to have been sealed some time ago. Perhaps the seam beneath had been mined out, or had flooded and become unusable.

For a few moments the Wraith was alone with the sun and the dry wind sifting through the rocks, but then he heard footsteps. Behind him was the Raven, tall and scruffy and weatherbeaten as he climbed down the gully. He halted a few paces short of the Wraith, regarding him with creased, ice-blue eyes.

“Who do you pray for?” the Raven asked him.

Minkasha
10-16-2018, 09:10 AM
Cara had grown used to the treatment, the mockery. In her eyes, their reaction was a subtle fear of the expansive, seeing things from a higher perspective than one body. When the Leveler called her alias, there was pride and excitement again to enter the woman’s bosom. It was always the Leveler who took up beside her to defend her name. It was why in turn Cara knew she had to be beside this woman.

The mixed woman eyed the soldier gestured to and nodded.

“If I follow this man, should you and I create a bond so that I may return swiftly with news?”

The Leveler’s chest rose and fell a second time. “I suppose we should.”

Another quiet titter rippled through the tent, despite the fate of the one mage who had previously done so (Cara could hear him busily spitting out mud on the ground outside). The method by which she created a bond was rather famous - and infamous - throughout the army. No-one could really guess why consuming someone’s body fluids was a requisite, but that was why the runes were the purview of the Shattered Gods, rather than of mere mortals.

If the others in the tent knew how many of the Leveler’s enemies had kissed Cara and subsequently seen her step out of thin air and drive a pike through their chests, they might not be so quick to laugh. Perhaps that was why the Leveler remained stoic as she stepped away from the group.

Her long gown brushed the woven mat that had been laid down, so that she almost seemed to glide. Cara saw her tongue briefly flicker out to moisten her pale lips. The Leveler’s blue-grey eyes never left Cara’s as a confident hand reached out to curl around the back of her head and gently twist its fingers through her star-lit hair. The world around them seemed to hold its breath as the Leveler slowly pulled her in and-

“Actually,” the Leveler stated, firmly. “I’m not doing that with all these people watching.”

She drew away, craned her head down and spat into the palm of her free hand, holding it up. The sleeve slipped down to her pale elbow, and the small, bubbled wad of saliva slowly began to trace down her palm after it as she held it out towards Cara.

“Still hot!” someone piped up happily from the back of the tent.

Cara did what she could to null the signs of rejection. The Leveler changed the world, why would she care what a room of people thought about her? It was disappointing. Cara signed and accepted the hand. This was so little, but she'd have to work with what the woman she championed would give her.

The mixed woman used her fingers to pull the Leveler's hand close and shut her eyes. Opening her mouth and letting her tongue free the mixed woman lapped up the Leveler's palm, a moisture of her saliva and the other woman's mixing and moving around as she tried to gather it.

"Oh wait!" Cara said, keeping the hand tighter to her face, "Some slipped." Her tongue nestled between the lengths of the other woman's digits. Her sparkling hair caressed and fell over the Leveler's forearm as she leaned in, desperate to get every drop. "It's not enough, spit on my mouth. Maybe we can do that!" The Hole suggested with the intention to help.

The Leveler just blinked at the idea, her eyes holding closed for a second before springing open again.

"Oh, to hell with it." she said. Her other hand released Cara's hair, one finger pointed upward as she flicked her wrist in a circle. "Turn around, you perverts. And if another one of you laughs, I swear to the Shattered Gods..."

She gently took hold of Cara's neck once more, and covered her mouth with her own. Cara's throat released a soft sound of approval. The pressing of two women's lips was the signal of bravery she remembered clearly about her beloved leader. Standing obstinate against criticism because it was the Leveler who also knew about the hole. The deep place which they all came from, that turned the mass of problems on this planet to a single detail across the universe.

She opened her mouth, pushing in her tongue to scoop out as much of the Leveler's liquid essence as she could.

It went on for an inordinately long time. Long enough, at least, for some of the guests to start fidgeting and quietly clearing their throats. Even the Leveler herself briefly opened one eye to peek when they were half a minute in. Eventually however they drew apart.

“Anyway.” the Leveler said, swiping a thumb delicately across her bottom lip and then squaring her shoulders once more. “It’s probably best that you go right away.” She grabbed Cara by the arm to check her before she could bound away. “Oh, but Hole…”

Whatever she had been about to add died on her tongue as one of the soldiers tried and failed to contain a snort. The Leveler pursed her lips, and there was a loud bang as the offender tore a second man-shaped hole in the tent canvas during his explosive egress.

“What I was going to say,” the Leveler continued, wrinkling her narrow nose at the smell of ozone that now permeated the tent, “Was no stupid heroics. If it’s just a gang of fugitives, then kill them and be done. But if the Enlightened really did slip out of the city, then get back here right away so we can make a new plan.”

The Leveler paused for a moment, crossing her arms in thought.

“And on second thoughts, take Redmoor with you as well. I’ll miss him on the front lines, but if you do run into someone powerful he could collapse the mines to buy you some time.”

The Leveler squeezed Cara’s shoulder, not unkindly, but the look in her eyes was as hard and cold as quenched iron.

“Hunt them down.”


* * * * * *

“Oh yes, I know where they’re going.” the strange soldier boasted garrulously as they hurried through the camp, now with a dozen other soldiers and a grumbling Redmoor in tow. “And one of ’em you’ll have to see to believe…”

The shifting torchlights alternated, turning his tawny skin gold one moment and plunging it into darkness the next. Redmoor and the former slaves-turned-crusaders eyed him suspiciously - he spoke the Ash tongue well enough, but everything about him from his bronze armour to his lilting accent screamed Lightman.

If the man noticed their hostility then he chose to ignore it, though Cara noted that his palm rested casually on his sword pommel with no signs of moving. He was slightly shorter than Cara herself, albeit broader, and he looked up at her with interest, his eyes flitting from her heart-shaped lips to her softly glinting dreadlocks.

“So,” he added as they passed through another pool of golden torchlight. “What’s your story, lovely girl? I’ve never seen a mage with glowing hair before. Is it a special kind of soap?”

One sparkling sight to another, the Hole was taken by an attraction of self, eyes lost in a trance of the coming and going torchlights. It felt like another symbol for the truth she saw through her runestones.

"Soap?" Cara asked when pulling herself to return in the present, her visage was alive with twinkling light. "My hair sparkles because of the power given to me. My body is a connection to all that is greater. The Hole, the one we all come from, pass through and enter again. Do you know it?" Her tone of voice changed, following the smile on her lips. Sharing cosmic reality felt like service to the Leveler: the first woman to free them all from restriction of thought and body.

The soldier laughed quietly, “I know of one hole we all come from and enter again but I don’t think it’s the one you’re thinking of…” The light flickered and slid across his features. “Are you talking about death?”

Cara let him sit with his question while she took time to formulate an answer.

"No, somewhere out there exists a single point where everything comes from." The belief lit her face with a smile, lifting her hand and bending her fingers to point at the sky. "Death itself began at that point of creation. There is nothing to fear, we all come from the same point of origin."

"Mmm hmm." the soldier nodded, although from his blank expression it was clear that her words were going somewhat over his head.

A reassuring sigh left her chest, for the man or for herself was not contextualised. To the woman of starry tresses, the insight she was deeply embedded with was personally unshakeable, intimate with all her thoughts. "The night sky is wonderful...reminds me often..." she trailed.

"I suppose it is." said the soldier, with the same blank expression. He glanced briefly up at the star-field, with its two bright moons and the twisting ribbon of the milky way weaving its way across it. "Never was much one for stargazing myself, like."

They passed beyond the yellow pool of the torch-light, throwing a cloak of shadows across both their faces.

"It'll be dawn soon." the soldier observed, pointing east to where the sky was beginning to lighten with a band of grey. His teeth glinted in the dark. "What say we make it a red one, eh?"

Katrina
10-18-2018, 03:34 PM
The sound of lashing waves was pronounced in the distance. The bricked roof had heated quickly under the scorching suns glare, still Red sat comfortably higher than the townsfolk. They paid no mind to the odd woman dressed all in red with a scarf covering everything up to her eyes and a hood covering everything down to her lips. They had seen something far more concerning. She too had seen the smoke billowing far far off in the distance in the same fashion her cloak billowed with every gust. She had heard with her acutely experienced hearing; drums, singing, marching. Not long after the morning sky opened with light, she heard thunderous crashing, no doubt the walls to the city of Light had fallen.

War.

She felt no sympathy for the townsfolk, yet saw the potential this little place had. It reminded her of the town she had promptly left days ago after completing a job there. That town was bigger than this one, but they both had that private familiarity in which everyone knew each other and each others business. Perhaps she'd find the same employment here as she had back there? Perhaps the same ruthless desires swarmed this place, deep within the souls of these seemingly normal townsfolk. For wasn't the desire to see death in all its curious happenings simply a normal one? Or perhaps it was still building, and she would return in weeks or months, and find an offer waiting for her. An offer she would never refuse.
No. Not an offer. A job.
Her way of life had dragged her from that town into these moments, sitting high enough to watch from a distance as humans, her own kind, did what they do best. Killing, a primal instinct. Yet the instinct itself would never die. How perfect.
Watching this little town go about its workings, she drifted back into the memory of those past couple of nights.

The town before had the same busy workings, everything in its place, everyone doing their job. But when night fell, her own strangeness gave her away. She was approached by a single torch in the night and more than two dozen townsfolk in the dark street. The woman carrying the torch led the group, and tilted her face away from the light so as to hide it. The others had cloths covering half their faces or had pulled up their shirts past their noses. Red's first thought was that she was being chased out of town, but she had seen that kind of thing happen. There were usually more torches, and makeshift weapons too. Farming sickles and pitchforks, normally used for the point of producing nourishment in harvesting food, would be brandished as weapons to harvest ones blood and entrails. But these people held nothing but their identity's behind their garments and their own wits in the palms of their hands. Except for the woman carrying the torch, who had a small stitched bag, jingling with every step.
Red was standing silent as they approached.
"Lady in Red." The woman's voice was shaking as much as her body, despite the humid night air. "We've gathered to make a request of you and that sword you carry on your hip."
Red remained silent, but tilted her head in acknowledgement. She could hear the woman swallow nervously from 10 paces away.
"We want someone...dead." Her voice lowered on the word she'd mustered such courage to speak. "You must've seen 'em, after you came into town? He's the biggest guy here. He started the fight at the bar earlier tonight."
"Mmm, I saw em. Big guy, loud, rather...obnoxious. Light hair, tattoo on his left arm.”
"Yes! Him! He killed two people in a fight a few nights back. Two innocent people. Good people. They weren't lookin for no trouble. They were just in the wrong place. He's been a wrath on our homes for months now..." She paused, swallowing again. "Can you do it? Kill em?"
"I can. But will is up to you."
"We...gathered together as much money as we can."
Red extended her arm, palm facing up, but didn't move. Did this woman have the courage to approach her?
Apparently she did. The woman hesitated, looking back at her friends and family, some of them shifting on their feet and glancing amongst each other. Then, slowly, she crossed the distance between her and Red, not taking her eyes off the hood covering Red's face, as if her eyes were visible, and stopping in front of her. She placed the bag of coins in Red's gloved palm.
She opened it, examining the coins within. She breathed softly at the minuscule amount, but knew this was all she would get for this job. She tied the little bag shut and tucked it away beneath her overlaying cloak. "He'll be dead in his own bed before the sun rises."
The woman's lips parted, as if shocked her request was being answered. She nodded, backed away a few paces, then turned and walked the rest of the way. While her back was turned, Red took the opportunity to scan the covered faces. When the woman reached the group again, she turned to look at Red, but there was nothing in the darkness. Nothing but their own desires, and a plan now in motion.

Hours later, when the moon was partially covered by mountains, Red stood in the corner of a small room. A calm breeze entered in through the open window, just as she had. The gentle air defied the moments vicious intent. Her sword was already drawn. A cloud passed, and moonlight glinted off the sharp steel.
"Who's zer?!" Came a mans voice from the bed on the opposite side of the room.
Red said nothing, only walked slowly into the light streaming past the clouds.
"You. You're...you're that creep lady who came into town a couple days ago." His sentence slowed as he eyed the steel in her hand. A smile passed swiftly over his lips as he laughed one throaty laugh. "Really?"
Red still said nothing.
"So...what? You're here to kill me?" His tone was condescending, but only reached her ears and not her nerves. She let him speak his final words. "Well," He chuckled. "Get on with it." He said with a full smile now.
Red walked forward towards his bed, slowly, each step, each breath, silent. There were no critters sounding in the dark. No mice, no crickets. No footsteps outside, not a single drop of water could interrupt this mans final silence. His final night. She darted the last few paces to his bed and stepped onto it in one swift motion. He gasped and tried to stand on his pillow to face her, but she was much faster. She plunged her sword down into his gut, heard the squelch of flesh and tissue and blood spilling around inside. That was all she considered this man. Bags of bloody string and meat, held together by a spark of life. He was pinned to his own bed frame as her sword had pierced straight through him. He grabbed the blade, slicing his palms trying to pull it out, but to no avail.
"Y-you...WHY!"
"Not me." She spoke softly. "Them." She tilted her head towards the town seen through the open window.
"What...they...." He coughed, blood sputtering into his mouth. "They did this...Those...fuckers." He coughed again, choking then swallowing his own blood. "I....I don't want..."
Ahh, she had heard this plenty of times before.
"You don't want to die? I know. But the fact is," She placed her knee's on either side of his tremoring body, her hands overlapping on the hilt of her sword, and leaned her face above his. "The weak don't get to decide how or when they die." She was satisfied that the last thing he saw, like so many before him, was her face. The last voice they heard was hers. The last thing they felt was her cold steel. Their last night was red.

Red caressed the thin hilt of her similarly thin sword just as she caressed the memory with a gentle touch. She had genuinely enjoyed that night. More than drinking, more than sex. More than anything, killing was her favorite thing to do. Sitting upon the bricked rooftop, watching the plumes of smoke rise now from the Light city, she thought of all the fights she was missing out on. She hoped, fighting boredom just as she fought a worthy foe, that something would come along.

Scottie
10-22-2018, 06:46 PM
He felt like a luke-warm loaf of bread….a lumpy grumpy looking loaf of bread. His neck stump looked like some of the burned logs that would sit at the bottom of the hearth and weakly protest their demise with soft crackles and pops. The Leveler, a lightning bolt and a reflecting rune. The wanderer raised an eyebrow at the response, as if those three words explained how he was just a head.

Solar interrupted with a question that had momentarily buzzed through the wanderer’s skull as well. Stupid enough. So they were stupid enough to wander around with their runes. The temptation to let him thud to the dirt by her feet was steadily growing higher with every passing second. She let the interaction continue as dull green eyes trailed over the Immortal. He didn’t look powerful. He would gain nothing more than a passing glance if she had encountered him in a market place. She had expected so much….more.

The wanderer had heard rumours. As had everyone. The Immortal. A man to be feared...to be respected etc etc. Thinking back, she could remember the stupid whispers that had floated through the villages she passed through. Some said he was 7 foot tall. Some said that he could kill men by the hundreds. One child had even remarked that he could shoot fireballs from his eyes, and bolts of lightning from his arse. “I’m tellin ya, I saw it.” The boy pleaded as his friends laughed heartily.

“The Greater Moonstone?”

Again with the Greater Moonstone. She was relieved that Solar was the one to pipe up about what this fabled rune stone was. The wanderer let her eyes drift to the Mer. Shapeshifting rune. Knowing that the Mer had runes that they kept hidden...made her doubt her decision to gift the blood runes to her.

“I don’t suppose either of you fine ladies is up for providing a piggyback over to the Light city?”

“No.” Came the blunt reply. “We have just left the Light City. It is in ruins, the wall has fallen….We are not returning there.” She cast a glance over the rest of the party, noting that two had wandered off. “I do not know what our plan is now. We were deciding it before you interrupted us with your...presence.” She continued to hold him at arm's length but high enough that he could look the majority of them in the eye. “You are welcome to join us in whatever we decide….or I can leave you on a higher ledge...better view y’know.” There was a small smirk tugging at her lips, even though it wasn’t a true joke….she found herself hilarious.

Price
10-22-2018, 09:33 PM
The air was heavy with the weight of death stained by unclean hands and impure motivations. The Wraith felt a sickness in the stomach just being a witness to such needless slaying, never mind being a willing participant. None of the events that had passed felt necessary in principle. The gears of battle would churn on regardless of how many lives were extinguished upon its bloody altars. The losses would pass by forgotten by all, ally and enemy alike. In the end, soldiers were merely pieces on a game board to be sacrificed for the sake of a leader who would gladly forfeit souls for power and gain. War was nauseating to the Wraith, necessary only to those not versed well enough in diplomacy.

He stayed down on both knees, knelt before a small rock formation in silence interrupted only by the sound of the rushing water quite some distance away. There he prayed until his supplication was interrupted by the crunching of loose leaves and branches underfoot, and a voice.

“Who do you pray for?” the Raven asked him.

The Wraith did not so much as flinch at the sound of the unwelcome voice. His eyes remained shut, but after some time had passed, he spoke. “For the dead, I pray safe passage. For the guilty, I pray judgement. And for myself?” He got to his feet and faced the Raven. “It is as I said. I pray for the wicked. I pray for atonement, the guidance to judge justly, the skill to execute swiftly without undue suffering, and most of all I pray for the will to do as I must...with a heart free of jade and a soul unstained by desensitization at taking a life.”

Azazeal849
10-25-2018, 08:42 PM
“...and most of all I pray for the will to do as I must...with a heart free of jade and a soul unstained by desensitization at taking a life.”

“A heavy burden for one man to carry.” the Raven remarked, folding his arms and resting his shoulders against a smooth shelf of rock. “Never mind willingly.”


* * * * * *

“No.” came the blunt reply.

“No?” the Immortal repeated, blinking as if he genuinely hadn’t been expecting the answer.

“We have just left the Light City. It is in ruins, the wall has fallen….We are not returning there.”

The Immortal rolled his eyes. “The Leveler, am I right?”

“Right.” Solar confirmed. “And her army of dickheads.”

“Dickheads don’t concern me. I know runes that could let you prance right through the middle of her army without a scratch.”

“Uh huh?” Solar replied sceptically. “And what about the Leveler herself? What’s going to be left of you after the next fight, a fucking eyeball?”

“I told you, it was a cheap shot!” the Immortal snapped loudly. His smooth cheeks bulged against Wanderer’s hands as he huffed a breath. “I’ll tell you exactly what’s going to be left. The Leveler in so many pieces that it’d make the Shattered Gods wince if they could see it, me picking up the Moonstone that I can make far better use of than she can, and regrowing the rest of my body so I can give that uppity bitch the finger.” He huffed again, more glumly this time. “Damn, I miss having fingers.”

“You’re still assuming that we’ll agree to carry you back there.” Solar stated.

“Well not you obviously.” the Immortal countered, rolling his eyes. “Someone competent.” His gaze roamed back to Wanderer. “Tell me, if you’re not going back to the Lightmen, what exactly is your plan for evading the second most powerful mage in the world while she takes her army on a sightseeing tour of the Valley?”

Wanderer cast a glance over the rest of the party, noting that two had wandered off. “I do not know what our plan is now. We were deciding it before you interrupted us with your...presence.” She continued to hold him at arm's length but high enough that he could look the majority of them in the eye. “You are welcome to join us in whatever we decide….or I can leave you on a higher ledge...better view y’know.”

“You could do both and put me on top of the big guy’s head.” the Immortal said airily. “Hey, Ambie! You just became interesting again. What are you doing hanging around with this bunch?”

The Ambassador cocked her head, and walked over to place her blue-tinged hand on the back of the Immortal’s head.

“Oi!” the mage protested, and Wanderer felt a static buzz of magic prickle warningly through her fingers.

“We are going to my people.” the Ambassador said, withdrawing her hand. “I see you speak truth about the Moonstone. But others must see to understand the dangerous Change. I will take you to the city of the Mer.”

“You won’t be going anywhere.” said a voice.

Solar and Illusion spun round to face off to Wanderer’s left. When she followed suit she saw a group of men fanning out among the rocks - all of them armed. Some carried bows and satchels of arrows; others long spears and gleaming bronze shields. The soldiers were a patchwork of different creeds, but Wanderer’s slave-born eye picked out the unifying marks of brands and tattoos: some on arms, some on shoulders, some on faces...and almost all of them obscured by striated scar tissue where the branded skin had been cut away.

Former slaves - the Leveler’s men.

She half expected the Immortal to make some sarcastic comment about them letting themselves be snuck up on, but the head in her outstretched hands was silent. When she glanced at it, she saw that the Immortal had closed his eyes. Was he pretending to be…?

A dozen leaf-shaped spearpoints jutted skyward as the spearmen grounded their weapons and stood aside for a trio of figures. One was not too dissimilar from the soldiers, though he was professionally armoured in bronze and leather, with a sword at his hip and his face hidden behind a T-visored helm. The second was a mahogany-skinned woman, with a mild face dusted over with freckles. She was clad in iron armour, studded with aquamarine crystals that seemed to catch every mote of light. Her hair shone too - braided into sleek black dreadlocks that reflected something more than just the rising sun.

The third was a man with grey streaks in his glossy hair and beard, clad in thick red robes. The Wanderer had seen him before.

“The Leveler has the Greater Moonstone, woman.” he had smirked at her, even as the one called the Apprentice had tried to talk her into switching sides. “Your days are numbered.

He was staring straight at the Ambassador, who had backed up uncertainly at their appearance.

“A mer?” he gaped in disbelief. Several of the soldiers around him exchanged uncertain glances, and one even made a warding sign with his free hand.

The stocky man shifted his weight onto his other foot. “I told you that you wouldn’t believe it until you saw it.” he said, in a familiar hearty baritone. Even though he spoke in Ash, his Light accent was unmistakable.

“Davin?” Solar spluttered. “What are you doing?”

The T-visored helmet panned round to face him. “Come now, lovely boy,” he said in Light. “Don’t ask stupid questions.”

Solar shook his head, laughing humorlessly. “Oh, you’ll pay for this you scumbag.”

“Bitch, I already got paid for this.” Davin patted a leather pouch cinched tightly to his sword-belt, and the contents chinked audibly. “First rule of mercenaries, lovely boy: do the job you’re paid for. Second rule: know which side’s winning, so you can survive to get paid. You saw how easily this one tore down the city walls. The Enlightened are fucked.”

He folded his arms across his breastplate.

“Luckily, the Leveler has no hard feelings. You should consider your own career options.”

The man in red stroked finger and thumb through his dark moustaches, his eyes falling on Solar as the younger wizard trembled with suppressed rage. “You again.” he stated, tartly. “A shame. I was hoping for a fight.”

“I’ve got a fight for you right here, you prick!” Solar shouted back, as wisps of magical flame began to bleed around his clenched fist.

“Redmoor.” Illusion said loudly, stepping in front of the others and holding her arms out to her sides as if to shield them. “Don’t make the same mistake twice. Let them go.”

The mage called Redmoor tutted. “Illusion...you’re not just a traitor, you’re a stupid traitor. The Lightmen are never going to be able to beat the Leveler, especially not now she has the Moonstone. You picked the wrong side, and you know how the Leveler feels about traitors.”

Illusion’s face drew down into a determined frown. “I’d rather die doing the right thing than cause any more suffering in the Leveler’s name.”

Redmoor grinned nastily, and then a spasm racked his face, turning the grin into something nightmarish. “Oh you’re going to suffer, count on that.”

“There are two more of them.” Davin interrupted, unfolding his arms to point down the narrow gully where Raven and Wraith had disappeared. “They went that way.”

Redmoor hmphed. “Maybe they’ll be more of a challenge. I trust you can sweep up this little lot.”

“Count on it.” Davin answered with almost obscene cheerfulness. As he drew his bronze sword, the spears around him swung down from their vertical rest to point towards the group. The stamp of a dozen spearmen bracing their feet in unison was an ominous thunderclap.

“Sorry, my lovelies.” Davin said. “I trust you all to know it’s nothing personal, like.”

“Who are you?” Illusion said suddenly, directing her question at the woman with the softly-glowing hair. It was clear she was attempting to stall for time.

Davin’s eyes glanced to his right behind the visor. “This…” And then he hesitated, suddenly struck by an uncharacteristic reticence. “This is...um...the Hole.”

In spite of everything, Solar sniggered. In Wanderer’s hands, she thought she heard a tiny snort emit from the immobile head, though only she was close enough to hear it.

“Well.” Solar opined, “As mage names go it lacks a certain gravitas.”

“Then imagine how you’ll feel when she kills you, eh?” Davin answered, regaining a measure of his former bravado. He extended his arm towards the group, the sword a razor-edged extension of his fist.

“At ’em, lovely boys.”

“For the Leveler.” one of the spearmen growled in Ash as he advanced towards Wanderer. His partner, locking shields beside him, grimaced as they approached.

“What the fuck are you holding?”


* * * * * *

The stamp of armoured feet echoed down the gully, ricocheting from the stone walls. Raven’s head snapped round in an instant.

“What was that?”

The battered longsword glided over his shoulder, unsheathing in a graceful arc. The metal flashed red as it caught the rising sun, as if it had already been blooded.

Raven sprinted back towards the others at the plateau, only to skid to a halt as the ground in front of him splintered into jagged cracks. He looked up, and saw an Ashmen robed in flowing red.

“What’s the rush?” the red mage smirked.

“You!” Raven growled. He started forward again, this time with slow, deliberate purpose.

Redmoor squinted at the man stalking towards him. “Me...” he confirmed uncertainly.

“You don’t remember, do you?” The worn leather grip of Raven’s sword groaned audibly under the pressure of his fist. “The village on the border, with the red sandstone temple? You stayed at our inn, beguiled us all with your stories of the other cities. Then you tore down our temple to claim the rune you knew lay under it, and killed everyone when they tried to stop you.”

The longsword twirled a determined figure-eight and settled into a high guard.

“You missed one boy.”

Redmoor’s fingers twitched as a spasm shivered up his arm. Then his eyes widened in comprehension.

“Oh! Yes, I remember.”

The air crackled as he raised his arms, and the gully walls around them shivered apart as great slabs of rock tore themselves free.

“Now ask me if I care.”


* * * * * *

Smoke was rising from beyond the hills - from the city of the Enlightened no doubt - but at this distance it was difficult to tell if the grey-brown plume was the usual pall of cooking fires and smelteries, or the first fires of the Ashmen assault.

As the Red Lady strained her ears for the telltale crash of bronze against iron, there was a flickering flash. She was a moment to late to turn her head and catch it, but from her rooftop vantage point she saw other people stopping in the street, looking inland past their mudbrick houses to the frowning cliff of the mountain. A second later, a thunderclap caught up with the flash, rolling over the village before dissipating into the gentle murmur of the sea. The villagers began to whisper fearfully, and usher their children back inside.

The Red Lady knew the source of the flash better than any of them. Battle runes.

Katrina
10-26-2018, 05:10 AM
Red stood up, a brick wall of authoritative power peering into the distance with unseen eyes. Leaping off the roof she landed steadily on the dusty ground below her, absorbing the impact in her legs and instantly bounding forward down the dirt street. The village was small enough that she left its edge quickly and was darting across the field, away from the worn carriage and cart road leading into the village, through the grass and towards the hill mines. Her trained legs were untiring throughout minutes of running. Her blood flowed excitedly. In her mind she was chanting like an excited child, “a fight! I want to watch the fight!”

Finally discovering the path to the mines, she followed the sounds within, eagerly seeking some form of amusement. After a shorter sprint, she heard clearer voices and felt the hot breath of rune magic coming from up ahead. She followed the spark of runes in the air, but heard the stamp of feet and a louder declaration from a man. “What the fuck are you holding?” Almost overlapping she heard a smug statement from another man, closer to her than the first, “Now ask me if I care.”

“I care!” She thought. “I want to see!” Her mind was arush with excitement as she proceeded down the path and found… a man also garbed in red? He was more cloaked in it, than drenched in it like she was. Her own eyes and mouth were covered by her hood and scarf, while he was more revealed. He was casting runes to lull slabs of rock from the walls. She found this to be an efficient way to mine, but knew that was not this mage’s intention. He was facing an enemy, a man with his sword already drawn. As she had done in the past, she stood there in plain site, curiously observing the battle. Saying nothing. Her goal was not to get involved, but she had made a habit of battling the winner of fights she was observing. And winning them. She stood casually, somewhat awkwardly in the open, sword not drawn, but her fingers itching in ready to draw it. She hoped this fight didn’t bore her.

Minkasha
11-07-2018, 11:27 AM
The mixed eccentric among the men yanked at her head, and without pain a thick rope of sparkling hair left her skull at the root. In a twist of night-time light the black and white spun together to such a speed it blurred and in place a lengthy pike occupied her hand.

The Hole held tight to the shaft, gripping hard and keeping eye on the man in front of her. She had been prepared for entrance into this climatic meeting the moment the Leveler opened her to new bodily abilities. Dismounting her horse, Cara ran up ahead to join Redmoor and kept beside him. "Be careful where you send those things, I'm about to go in!"

Cara’s exuberant charge brought her into clear sight of the two opposing mages, and then into an even clearer sight of the ground as glowing golden chains appeared from nowhere to snap-coil around her legs and send her skidding face-first into the gravel.

“Wait your turn.” the Raven admonished her with a grim smile. The smile turned into a teeth-bared grimace as he turned back to Redmoor. “You’re not getting away from this.”

He broke into a run, prompting Redmoor to growl through his teeth and throw out a hand. A triangular slab of stone followed the motion, and Raven was forced to leap back as the rock splintered into pieces where he had been standing a moment before. Cara, chained to the sidelines, was rolling around in futility to change her circumstances. Adding to her night-sky hair, the particulates of the outside world were getting clumped in between stars.

“Eeer guah! I’m being held down!” It was starting to upset the distant calm which she layered over everything in the world. Repression was detachment from the universal truth. Outreached hands kept away from her hole. “Redmoor,” the young woman gasped, kicking her feet and rattling her bondage. “Can you give me an opening?”

Redmoor glanced round curiously, and saw Cara’s predicament. He did not reply save to roll his eyes, and turned back just as Raven rolled clear of another shattering rock slab.

“Is the Leveler making a habit of sending beautiful but crazy women after me?” the weather-beaten swordsman inquired, almost conversationally.

Redmoor’s eye twitched. “That binding rune is a cheap trick. And unfortunately for you, I’ve seen it before.” He grinned wolfishly. “And I know it can only bind one person at a time.”

He raised his arms and the ground beneath Raven’s feet cracked and heaved, making him stumble and go down hard onto one knee.

“The mercenary said there were two of you. Perhaps the other one can provide an actual challenge.”

Raven looked up, and Redmoor followed his gaze to see a large man skidding to a halt atop the pile of rocks Redmoor had pulled down across the mouth of the gully. The newcomer’s cloak snapped in the wind, contrasting with his silent stance. His face was hidden by an iron mask with slits for eyes.

“Ah.” Redmoor said, squinting at the stranger. “There you are.”

“Wraith.” the Raven called out through gritted teeth. “Help the others. This bastard is mine!”

Even as he planted his sword in the rubble and used it to lever himself back to his feet, Redmoor drew back his fist, and the stones behind him groaned as they began to tear free from the gully walls and rise into the air. The Raven dropped a hand to his boot, and a bronze blade flashed in the sunlight. Almost faster than one could blink he had hooked his arm into a throw, and the hovering stones dropped with a crunch as Redmoor cursed and clutched at a bloodstained rip in his robe’s sleeve.

Before any of the others could stop him the masked man had vaulted over Raven, boots scrunching as he landed with one hand splayed against the ground, and sprinted away past Redmoor and Cara. Redmoor’s face wrenched in an ugly spasm as he cradled his arm and shot a venomous look at the Raven.

“Hole!” he spat loudly, “There’s your opening!”

The Hole let loose something from behind her. Out from the depths of her hair, an ephemeral creation of energy got to its feet.

One of the Raven’s eyes narrowed, his focus temporarily stolen from his single-minded assault upon Redmoor. “What the…?”

Made from the waxing and waning gatherings of cosmic, of black and purple energy, a figure near tall the height of a man charged straight at Raven. Two massive arms led the charge, little legs in the back helping the large thing run with incredible speed. Between its arms was the smoothness of clouds, till the darkness parted. A universal horror of rowed teeth and twinkling, dreamy stars opened itself, to a gape large enough to swallow whole a man if it could.

The Raven looked uncertain for only a moment before he planted his feet into a guard stance and faced down the charging phantom. His sword flashed with reflected starlight as he swung it hard into the gaping, glittering teeth.

Thrown and left to the ground, The Hole was rolling in a twist of her own galactic hair. Glaring, the weight of being imposed upon gripped her ankles. It was provoking her into a manic and insecure reaction.

"Get off me!" Cara screamed to the magic which bent to nothing but more magic. The pike of hardened void in her hand was twisted to be a long stick saw, awkwardly trying to work a slow way out of the chains. Her magical metal crashed against the metal chain, scraping it a little with the gradually adding ups and down. The Hole closed her eyes, leaning on her back with the length of the weapon against her chest. Focused on the release The Hole her hands pumped up and down, waiting for the chance so she may spread her legs.

Scottie
11-07-2018, 09:53 PM
He had not expected the refusal. Good. He needed to be cut down a size… Or two…. Or six feet, it seemed. She desperately wished to respond with a cutting sarcastic remark but Solar beat her to confirming the Immortal’s suspicions. ‘Army of dick heads’ had a vicious look land on Solar. The young one better have meant the mages and not the slaves forced into a war in pitiful hopes of freedom.

The Wanderer blinked slowly as the Immortal puffed out his imaginary chest. A soft snort left her lips when she imagined the Immortal rolling around, only an eyeball remaining… his massive ego refusing to let him die. His cheeks puffed out like a petulant child and the Wanderer had to restrain herself from poking them in with her palms.

She let him continue his rant as she watched him carefully. The Wanderer still hadn't come to terms with the fact she was holding a severed head… with the world's biggest ego complex. “Someone competent” She raised an eyebrow as his gaze landed on her again.

His attention snapped to the Mer. Once again, the Wanderer had to stop herself from flinching away when the Mer came close to her. Power buzzed against her hands and a scowl was gifted to the Mer. They were all mages here. It would be common decency if she would inform them when she was going to do something “buzzy”. Before the Wanderer could voice her refusal of going anywhere near a city of Mer, she was rudely interrupted by an unfamiliar voice.

The sigh that left the Wanderers lips was loud. How could they allow themselves to be surrounded….How!! Dull green eyes snapped over those before her. Her gaze plucked out the scar tissue of where brands once lay. These were her brethren. Bound up in armour holding cold steel, ready to do another's bidding at any expense.

The loaf in her hands had grown quiet. A quick glance downwards told her that he did not see this as his fight. Her eyes narrowed and she dragged her gaze back to the men surrounding them. Three figures walked forward, she wanted to screech at the soldiers that they were treating them like their old masters. What made them different?

The woman was interesting… if only for a second. She had caught sight of a vaguely familiar face. Ah. Fuck face. And an even bigger fuck face, Davin. The Wanderer had known something was up with that snake. Solar asked a stupid question and the bastard chuckled. He laughed at the thought of killing them, it was just another job.. Another set of coins in his pocket.

Rage was a infectious disease and Solar was bubbling rage from every pore. Stupid girl, the Wanderer thought as the Illusion stood before them. These men killed children for their Leveler...killing them would not stop them from sleeping at night.


“Those coins will paint this earth soon, Davin. Count on it.” She matched his smile but her eyes were filled with rage. He underestimated them; that would be his downfall.

“This is...um...the Hole.”

Of all the names that a mage could choose… The woman before them chose to call herself the Hole. Seriously. The loaf in her hands seemed to snort softly. A raised eyebrow was all that was gifted to the coward.

“For the Leveler.”

“For your new master.” she spat back at the spearman. He hesitated mid-stride to be addressed in his own native Ash, but only for a moment. They advanced on her - spears level, eyes dark between their bronze helmets and the rims of their burnished shields. Her axe was resting by her leg, her hands full…. Not for long though.

“Here, catch!”

Toppling the head into her right hand, she reared back and launched the Immortal at the approaching spearmen. She had the brief satisfaction of the head’s eyes and mouth beginning to open in alarm before it left her grasp and clanged forehead first into one of the spearmen’s shields.

“Gyaah!” the former slave protested, his guard dropping slightly as he looked down and swiftly kicked the head aside with his foot. “Oh gods be good, what the fuck?”

The Immortal’s head bounced into a shale midden, that three of the Ash archers were scaling in order to get a clear shot at Wanderer and the others. All three stopped in their tracks and looked down in horror when the head cracked off a slab of shale and loudly complained “Ah, shit!”

Her gaze landed on Davin as her fingers slid around the handle of her axe. If she fell this day, she would take him with her.

Concentrating as the hilarity of the confused and repulsed spearmen distracted their companions, she took a few cheap shots. These enemies snuck up on them, they outnumbered them, and Davin was being a dick, so the Wanderer thought they deserved it.

Silt from the surrounding slopes shot upwards, appearing to reach for the heavens but it had only one true destination. Those whose armour did not protect their face got a mouthful of dust or their eyes were caked in the stuff. Several spearmen stumbled, and one of the other archers accidentally discharged his arrow into the ground with a sharp spang.

Her next cheap shot was a low one. The axe was dragged up from the earth as the Wanderer promptly closed the space between herself and her would-be attackers. Both were trying to hold onto their spears while simultaneously cuffing at their dust-blinded eyes, and neither were ready to make a killing thrust as she bounded inside their guard. Using the rage that was bubbling in her chest and now the strength of her rune, she aimed for the knees of the closest spearman. The front of the knee was protected but the side flesh was barely covered by thin cloth. Blinded though he was, the spearman still managed to half turn and put his shield between himself and Wanderer’s pickaxe. What he was not expecting was for Wanderer’s augmented strength to punch the axe point clean through the metal of his shield, and on into his leg. He stared down at it for a moment, as if not able to process what had just happened, and then he let out a high-pitched shriek and buckled to the ground, his shield dragging Wanderer’s embedded axe with it.

“Fucking bitch!” the second spearman blurted in anger, and punched his weapon straight towards Wanderer’s stomach.

The noise that her axe made when it pierced through his shield made her heart sing. The first blow was always the most pleasing. Her heart immediately fell when her axe was yanked from her grip as the spearman turned away from her. The insult caught her attention and her grip barely managed to cling onto the spear that came aiming for her stomach.

The Wanderer stopped it just shy of her skin. Her gaze snapped up to her attacker, both were equally shocked at what had happened. Thinking on her feet, she let her now free left hand grab the spear as well. Using the momentary distraction, she forced the spear away from her dion and to the right. Before wrenching the Ash man towards her, close enough that he could clearly see the scars that littered her face and the painful brand that she refused to get rid of.

“I hope it was worth it.” The words were harsh, spitting from her dry lips as she let the realisation hit his stomach.

“You’re a…?” The spearman wriggled helplessly in her grip. “Why’re you fighting us!?”

“My fight is not with you.” No wriggle room was given on the spear, her knuckles were white with tension. Instead of the normal emptiness or fear found rooted in slaves eyes, her dull green eyes were brimming with rage. Pure, whole body quaking rage. The man before her was not truly given a choice to fight in this war. He had nowhere to go, he had no one to fall back upon. He had been owned since he was a child...and he was still owned by a Master who had gifted them “freedom”.

She sensed that he would not give up his weapon. It was a life line. A protection that he had never truly felt before. Shame. The Wanderer reared her head back and hit the spearman squarely in the face. Enough force that he reeled backwards and his grip faltered on the spear. She didn’t use it against him. She merely let the head of the spear pierce the earth hard enough that it would take real effort to remove it.

He was no longer of her concern. The man who had her axe jutting from his shin continued to whimper as she moved towards him.

“Don’t…” the man stammered, holding up a bloody hand. The flying dust closed them off from the others, though Wanderer heard the hiss of an arrow, and the sharp fwoosh of a rune-cast fireball. Somewhere out there, Solar was laughing “Is that all you’ve got?”, while closer at hand two more spearmen were screaming and running away from the Ambassador for no apparent reason.

Her step faltered when he uttered a gentle plea, a blood stained hand raised up as if to stop her. The goings on around them were immediately forgotten. They faded into the background. The Wanderer reached out for his hand, letting her fingers link with his as she crouched beside him. “I am sorry, dear. I need this.” Her words quiet and almost….motherly. A kinder gaze latched onto his fearful eyes as she gripped the handle of her axe. It was over in seconds but a nauseating amount of pain seared through him. Only for it to calm. It was there...but it felt numb. He felt numb.

A simple nod was given as she let the blood drenched axe rest in the sand. When her hand left his, the pain returned. The wanderer pushed herself to standing and let her eyes land on Davin. The previous gentle comforting gaze was gone. The axe was spun gently in her hand as she advanced upon her new and most important prey.

Davin was hanging back, trying to gauge who was winning the dusty melee. He did not look impressed by her approach, nor by the way she had dispatched the two spearmen.

“Now now, lovely girl.” he tutted as he stepped forward, cutting loose figure-eights with his sword, “Why don’t you be a good little soldier now, and die so we can all go home.”

He darted to her unshielded left, and lunged his sword point at her neck.


Lovely girl. Good little soldier. He was pushing her buttons and unfortunately it was working. Broken fingernails dug deep into her palm as she watched him come closer. He was fast. Fuck sake, he was fast. The Wanderer just managed to move out of the way of a sudden death blow. The axe was promptly brought up to clang against metal as he skipped backwards….like a child playing a game.

Davin skipped back then lunged again, deadly fast in his bronze armour.

“You should have used that dust cloud to get away.” he said as he circled, dancing round Wanderer like a cat. “But you’re not the running type, are you? Otherwise you wouldn’t have stood up on the battlements, like. Or stayed to fight that young lad with a saviour complex.”

Her eyes narrowed as he continued to taunt her. “No. I am not the running type...Nor am I coward. Shame I cannot say the same for you. A bastard easily swayed by gold.” She attempted to follow him as he circled her. “Just like only a spineless sack of shit would attack a woman wearing only rags….while he wears only the finest armour available in an attempt to make himself a sparkling sack of shit.” Her arms swung wide as she highlighted the thin rags that hung from her frail frame.

The head of her axe was raised, following him as he danced away from her. Ready for the next cowardly attack. He was hanging back, she could tell that - he had seen her use Cian’s rune outside the Enlightened city, and he was wary of it. But still he bobbed around her, his eyes bright and full of laughing lies. He had the upper hand and he knew it.

“Rule Two.” he reminded her, as he nearly swept one of her legs out from under her with his blade. “Survive to get paid. Gold’s nice but it doesn’t do you much good if you’re dead like. And anyone standing up to those mages the Leveler has with her are definitely dead.”

He weaved behind her, and slashed a cut that nearly opened her spine.


“At least I’ve got a goal. What are you fighting for, eh?”


Survival. Ah. He thought that the Leveler would keep him alive as long as he kept on her good side. If the Wanderer knew anything, it was that Masters kept you alive as long as you were useful. If Davin let any one of them go...he wasn’t useful. The Wanderer was not cat like, but she did her best to avoid the ‘fancy’ sword work. “And yet those mages let us go, after we stood up against them. Strange that.”

A sharp burst of cool air kissed her back as his sword got an inch too close. “Your goal is a coward’s one. I fight so I do not get swallowed up by some bullshit Master’s lies.” Her voice growling from deep within her chest.

“Are you scared, Davin?” She asked softly, her axe raising up to shoulder height. Small droplets of blood hit the sand by her feet. “Is that why you keep your distance? Is it because you know I’d win if you didn’t have such a looonnnggg sword...I mean...seriously, compensating much?”

Davin shook his head, his smiling mask starting to slip. “Time for you to die, Wanderer.” His sword came at her, a gold-tinted blur driving her back.

Her gaze glanced momentarily over his shoulder, if there was any time for that ego loaf to intervene it would be now.

Azazeal849
11-07-2018, 10:39 PM
Raven's blade made an unnatural shrieking sound as it collided with the otherworldly monster. It drank the blade, its star-swirling body more an absence of matter than a presence of it. Raven slashed through a spectral claw and the hand vanished like a shadow under light, but it kept coming, driving the mage back against the gully wall.

Cradling his wounded arm, Redmoor watched with a twitch ticking at the corner of his grim smile. He still paid no heed to the struggling Hole, only stretched his hand upward to the overhanging rocks above Raven's head. His hand curled into a fist, and dust and pebbles began to spill free as the overhang trembled. But then, as he looked up, he saw Red.

The surprise on the older mage's face was obvious, as his icy eyes met those of the motionless, red-cloaked watcher. The contact was broken as a spasm wrenched Redmoor's head to one side.

"Enjoying the show?" he snarled mockingly up at the silent observer.

Katrina
11-08-2018, 10:03 PM
Red heard his question, but gave no hint she had. Only the minuscule movement of her open palm wrapping around the handle of her sheathed sword said she heard anything at all. She let the moments of silence sink deeper at first, but curiosity overtook her and she replied simply, “Yes.”
She made no other movements or attempts at communication. She was fine with allowing the red mage who had seemingly stolen her look, make his own conclusions. He seemed to be a worthy challenger. He might be fun to fight. On the other hand, the opponent was holding his own rather well. Either one would make a good challenge. She let her answer fade into the open air, withholding more of her own voice, not wanting to interfere any further. At least until the fight ended and hers would begin. Judging from the red mages aggression, she discerned her fight may happen sooner rather than later. She steeled herself, knowing he may attack her at any given opportunity.

Azazeal849
11-10-2018, 03:12 PM
“Yes.”

She steeled herself, knowing he may attack her at any given opportunity.

Her red-cloaked counterpart narrowed his eyes at her. “Then why don’t you come down and take a closer look!”

The earth under Red’s feet trembled. Then there was an almighty groan and she saw a wave of rock and rubble spilling out of the gully face below her. Her world began to tilt and drop as the ground around her collapsed, taking her with it. She tumbled down the newly-formed slope in a tangle of red, landing at the bottom as everything erupted into thick brown dust. Redmoor made a slashing cut with his arm, and a long spire of granite swung down like an executioner’s axe to pin her waist to the ground. The blow knocked the air from her lungs, but by good fortune or her opponent’s design, she was not hurt.

Raven was still fighting the thing Hole had conjured. A claw made of ribboned mist turned solid and raked deep lines into the gully wall as the Raven planted one foot on the rock face and dived over the creature’s shoulder to escape. The man was panting hard and coughing on dust, but still he fought.

There was a clank as the Hole’s blade overcame the magic of her binding chains, and Redmoor glanced back to see a rushing of golden mist as the links evaporated into the air. In a few moments the Hole was standing again, triumphant and chipper.

“Does the world actually make sense to you,” Redmoor intoned, “Or is it just pretty colours and weird shapes?” He jerked his head towards where Raven was fighting the ether-form, turning his back on his would-be challenger with casual arrogance. “Anyway, he’s all yours.”

Holding his robe sleeve over his mouth against the settling dust, Redmoor dug his feet into the soft pile of dislodged rocks and began to climb the slope towards Red.

“Now then.” he mused, stopping just a few paces short of where Red was pinned. Both of their scarlet cloaks were caked grey now with dust, and he was close enough for Red to pick out the ticking spasm in his right eye, and the tear in his sleeve where the fabric was smudged dark with blood. “What would…”

He looked the scarf-cloaked woman up and down, as if seeking to recognise her, but evidently failed.

“...you,” The word was edged with vague contempt. “Be doing here, spying on the Leveler’s business?”

He closed one hand into a fist and the pebbles around the Red Lady’s head rattled threateningly, causing her to sink a little into the loose gravel.

Katrina
11-11-2018, 07:26 AM
The dust seeped through the fabric of Reds scarf. She wrenched one arm free of the rubble and pulled the scarf off her mouth, revealing plump red lips. Her hood still hung down to the tip of her nose. She coughed twice then steadied her breath by exhaling slowly. She looked up at Redmoor looming over her, and saw the contempt in his eyes. Several seconds had passed since he asked her what her business there involved.
“I’m just watching.” She mumbled. “I’m bored. At least I was.” A smile danced on her lips. She was almost happy he had attacked her. She no longer felt bored. She raised her free hand, palm open and facing up, and spoke clearly. “Room!”
A translucent ball appeared in the center of her palm, and grew rapidly. The clear film passed through the dust particles into a perfect expanding dome shape. It covered Red and Redmoor, and even bits of rock wall. Eyeing a pebble behind Redmoor, she clenched her fist and aimed to switch places with it. She disappeared from her place under the rubble and all the rocks fell into place in her absence. A single pebble appeared higher than the rubble and fell through empty space onto the pile. She reappeared behind Redmoor on her back, but jumped to her feet and swiftly drew her sword. She charged him and swung the tip of her thin long blade at his throat.

Price
11-11-2018, 09:57 PM
The Raven was quick like a man possessed as he chased his target. The Wraith had only barely kept up with his comrade, missing most of the back and forth between him and his foe. The little that he did hear was enough for him to know that their battle was a personal one.


“Wraith.” the Raven called out through gritted teeth. “Help the others. This bastard is mine!”

The Wraith remained frozen as he decided his course of action. On one hand, he did not want to leave the Raven to face this opponent alone. On the other hand, it was not his place to interrupt such an intimate fight. Ultimately it was the unknown situation facing the others that persuaded him to go. He trusted that the Raven could defeat his foe in one-on-one combat, but the rest of the group might have been facing greater numbers and needing his aid more. With a nod, he dashed off.

*******

A silhouette emerged from the dissipating cloud of dust stalking the field like a silent reaper. He paused for a moment to scan the scene. The Wanderer was doing battle with a fierce foe of her own, a similar spot to the one Raven was in. But just across the field, Illusion and Solar were falling back on their heels. Judging by the bodies littering their vicinity, they had already struck down an impressive number of combatants.

“They keep coming!” The Illusion shouted, her rapier going to work blocking and parrying against a duo of attacking spearmen.

Solar dodged a flurry of arrows, sending fireballs back at the treelines where the archers were stationed.

The Wraith darted towards those same treelines deciding that Solar and Illusion would have an easier time with the spearmen if he could them covered from the suppressing fire of the bowmen. It helped that they hadn’t seen him coming, and as such, when they received blades stabbed through their backs, they were taken by quite the surprise.

He worked methodically, not giving his prey any time to nock and aim their arrows, nor giving them any reflex time to use those arrows as daggers against him. With their alignment, it was easy to push one bowman into another and keep them clumsily smashing against each other. Following that up with precise slices and stab attacks allowed for the experienced swordsman to carve through the army of ex-slaves. A ball of fire whizzed by him.

“Check your aim!!!” The Wraith called out.

“Fuck me! You want to tell us your up there next time?! Damn, this guy!” Solar fired a ball of flames directly into a spearman’s face sending the man onto the ground screaming. "Ooo, today is not your day, fella..."

"I need some help over here!" Illusion called out, finding herself surrounded by four pointy spears.

Azazeal849
11-12-2018, 07:47 AM
Kicked aside in the chaos, the Immortal's head bounced into the rubble three Ash archers were scaling. It cracked off a slab of shale, and loudly complained “Ah, shit!”

The three archers stared down in horror as the severed head rolled into the rubble below them, and rocked to a stop with its face downwards.

“Did…” One of the archers pointed the leaf-headed arrow he was holding down at the head, the bow in his other hand completely forgotten. “Did that thing just speak?”

“No.” came a muffled denial.


* * * * * *

She raised her free hand, palm open and facing up, and spoke clearly. “Room!”

As the rune bubble engulfed them, the look of confusion on Redmoor’s face gave Red the satisfaction of knowing that, while he might have seen the Raven’s signature rune before, he had definitely never seen hers.

“What?” the Ashman blurted as Red vanished, staring at the single pebble that had appeared in her place. As the pebble dropped with a clack, he heard the pop of displaced air at his back. Redmoor turned just in time to see the Red Lady on the ground behind him, only for her to rock back onto her shoulders and spring up onto her feet. A long sword hissed from the sheath under her cloak, the draw turning into a lashing spin.

Redmoor threw himself backwards, flailing his thin arms. A slab of shale cartwheeled through the air and met the blade on its face, striking sparks. Redmoor’s heel ground into the loose stones as he regained his balance.

“This Valley only has room for one red wizard, girl.” he scowled. “And it’s not you.”

He threw out his bloodied arm, and the shale slab leapt forwards to crash into Red and propel her clear out of the bubble.


* * * * * *

“I need some help over here!” Illusion called out, finding herself surrounded by four pointy spears.

Wanderer’s gaze glanced momentarily over his shoulder, if there was any time for that ego loaf to intervene it would be now.


* * * * * *

His mouth falling open, the archer prodded the shaking arrowhead forward and used it to turn the head over. He uncovered a strong-boned face, which was wincing at the arrowhead that was currently prodding it in the ear.

“Don’t do that.” the head advised, narrowing its eyes at the archer.

All three Ashmen’s eyes nearly bulged out of their heads. One of them stammered, “You’re a-”

“Disembodied head.” the head chorused along with him. “Yes, I’ve been through this routine once today already. They call me the Immortal. I’m sure even a dumbass like you can figure out why.”

The arrow dropped from the first archer’s nerveless fingers. “The Im...oh gods...oh gods...please don’t…”

“Then don’t make me, hmm?” the Immortal raised a thin eyebrow.

All three soldiers threw down their bows. One even dropped to his knees in the gravel, whimpering, “I’m...I’m sorry…”

“No problem.” the Immortal replied dryly. “And speaking of problems, please fuck off before I start considering you as one.”

A sheen of white light glinted across the Immortal’s eyes. That was the only warning the three men were given, as a sonic boom ripped through the air, driving the choking dust before it. A dome of shimmering force radiated outwards, scooping up the three archers and hurling them across the quarry. Wanderer turned just in time to see it coming; it passed through her with a teeth-itching buzz of static, but struck Davin with the force of a solid wall, slamming him into the air.

The mercenary landed with a crunch and rolled for several more metres before grinding to a stop amid loose earth and pebbles. Dazed Ashmen were all around him, groaning and trying to rise amid a scatter of snapped spears and dented shields. Coughing and cursing, Davin picked himself up and groped around for his sword. The dome formed a crackling barrier beyond which he could see his thwarted targets, twisting and wobbling as if he was viewing them through a veil of water.

One of the Ashmen who had kept his feet let out a curse, driving his spearpoint into the shimmering wall. The blade rebounded with a crack, and a series of coloured ripples spread across the dome like oil over water.

“Don’t waste your time.” Redmoor growled. He had appeared behind them, bloody and dishevelled, but his icy gaze dared them to comment on it. “You won’t get through that barrier rune.”

“Who cast that?” Davin coughed, cuffing the blood from his eyes.

“The Immortal…” one of the soldiers groaned as another archer helped him to his feet. “He’s not dead…”

Redmoor’s hands formed quivering fists. “Let’s get out of here.”


* * * * * *

The Immortal’s spell had blown away the dust cloud, revealing Wanderer and Wraith’s companions standing in various states of bewilderment. Solar was on the ground, curled around his abdomen and moaning raggedly, with Illusion on her knees by his side. One of the Ash soldiers must have succeeded in burying their spear in his belly.

The dome crackled with flickers of lightning, casting a pale light down on the survivors inside. The same sparks were playing across the Immortal’s head where it rested among the shale piles. On the other side of the barrier the Ashmen were fleeing, dragging their wounded and their dead with them. Davin locked one last glare with the Wanderer before tipping her a mocking salute and turning away.

“Thank you and everything,” the Illusion shouted incredulously at the Immortal. “But why didn’t you do that earlier?”

The Immortal switched his glowing eyes towards her, mustering as much dignity as he could while remaining a disembodied head lying on its side in the dirt. “My strength is that I can do pretty much anything. My weakness is that I can only do it when I give a shit.”

Illusion shook her head, blinking as if she were fighting back tears. “Why are you such a dick?”

“Your opinion is one of the many things I don’t give an aforementioned shit about.”

“Solar’s hurt!” Illusion screamed. “Help him!”

The Immortal rolled his glowing eyes. “Alright, fine, if it’ll shut you up…”

A half-visible spark of energy flickered between the Immortal and Solar. The younger mage yelped, jerking onto his back. As his blood-stained hands fell away, Illusion scrabbled at his torn shirt in time to see the red hole in his abdomen knit itself closed with an ugly pink line of scar tissue. Solar groaned and rolled back onto his side.

“Better?” the Immortal inquired sarcastically.

Solar probed at the blood-smeared scar above his navel. “Well, yes...in the sense that a punch in the face is better than a kick in the balls...”

The Immortal grunted noncommittally. His eyes faded from glowing white back to piercing brown, and at the same time the shimmering dome around them sputtered and disappeared.

“I expect they’re long gone by now.” the Immortal said with some satisfaction. “Well this isn’t very good is it? The Leveler’s onto you, and now she knows I’m still alive and kicking as well. I was hoping to surprise her. So where do you plan to go, hmm?”

The Ambassador wandered over, dusting herself down and shaking out her salt-crusted dreadlocks. “We go to the Mer city.” she said simply.

The Immortal exhaled, rolling his eyes. “You’re helpful Ambie, but in an unproductive way. Like the sort of person who sees a wanted poster asking Have you seen this man?, heads over to the court of justice and tells them, No. How is telling your people down there what all of us up here already know going to help? Save time and just take me to the Leveler so I can smite her scrawny arse.”

The Ambassador placed her hands on her hips. “Moonstone is too much change. If others see, they will help. We have the Book, with all names. Even Leveler’s name.”

The Immortal blinked, his lips pressing together into an appreciative line. “Oh.”

Illusion looked around, clasping forearms with Solar and helping the young mage back to his feet. “Where’s Raven?”

Katrina
11-13-2018, 01:33 AM
Red emerged from the clouds of dirt, in the very direction Illusion was searching. She was coughing into her hand before reaching down to cover the lower half of her face with her scarf again. Her right hand still gripped her sword firmly. She had been thrown out of her own damn bubble and slammed against a rock wall. And she was so close too! Her sword had almost grazed his throat. The air was wrenched from her lungs and the back of her head smacked against the rock. She was still dazed from the attack as she stepped slowly in the groups direction. She heard faintly, her ears still pounding to the sound of her own heartbeat, a voice echoing towards her. “Where’s Raven?”

She lifted her aching head up and gazed down the pathway towards the group. “Hey! Where’d the red mage go? I’m not done with him!” It was as if she were oblivious to the fact she didn’t know what side they were on, or that they could attack her head on now that she’d revealed herself.

Minkasha
11-13-2018, 02:53 AM
The Hole ran straight to The Raven. Behind the grizzled, forty-two-year-old fighter The Hole’s monstrosity chased. The starry beast and beauty were about to sandwich him in a fatal layering of opposition. His footsteps were crushed in the mud by the large tri clawed prints on his heel. Cara was charging straight to her target, honed on his blue eyes.

He released his sword from one hand, extending the other and unleashing a pair of spells seconds of each other. The Hole’s cosmic creature stopped, chained by its torso with the sudden appearance of Raven’s magical power. From his palm a darkness released, her pike and his longsword within reach of each other. Cara prepared a stab from below, keeping her guard down for the magic conjured raven to fly directly in her face. An unnaturally shiny coated raven harassed her facial features, barring her from seeing.

“Oh ow!” Cara cried out, the first pecks of the raven cut her cheek under the left eye. For The Raven this was all too easy.

“This isn’t a place for you if you can’t handle even that” the older man lectured, kicking his foot on her wrist and slapping her across the temple with the flat side of the long sword. Fingers threatened to release her pike, white light made out of confusion and brain trauma dazed her.

Collapsing on the ground The Raven stared at the star bound woman on the ground. “You suffer from lunacy gi-“ The air out of his lungs was crushed out by two clawed hands holding and squeezing. He hadn’t considered The Hole’s creation strong enough to snap the chain in sections. The leather absorbed a portion of the strength, his organs inside screaming with sharp pain while the black mist cut through the protection, into the skin and slashed at them.

Gritting his teeth he yanked out his dagger and stabbed it into the wrist of his attacker. The wrist dissipated, with it the hand. Blood dribbled out from his front, yet he repeated the action and freed himself. It was all the distraction Cara needed. She had crushed foul trying to keep her face occupied. The Hole’s hand suddenly emptied as the bird’s magical body broke into dust.

Her space birthed creation fell, landing on nubby arms without hands to properly prop itself to full height. Cara rolled with her pike, dirt accumulating over her figure she pushed herself through. Together Raven was attacked from both direction: the far reach mist monster opened the maw, biting into the man’s thigh and gripping without mercy while The Hole impaled him through a prior wound made by thrashing claw marks. Energy sourced from behind the planet was mutilating his body.

Without hands the night sky phantom shifted the core of its form, clamping harder on Raven’s thigh. Hitching for breath, the black-haired man collapsed to the ground, face up and led by his pierced thigh tugged ahead. His blood was starting to pool over the grass. Cara heaved, leaning on the pike to get on her knees. Raven hissed with desperate pain. She leaned over him, a meal made from the leg being gnawed on, tearing away scraps of leather and muscle tissue.

The longsword was tossed straight through The Hole’s monster, and it vanished, he took to his dagger and stabbed into the side of her hip, ignoring all the metal plating she wore. Even if he was finished, this attack crippled The Hole from the fight longer. Her leathers started to soak in her blood, hands vengefully twisted the pike whirling Raven’s insides. The veteran of combat coughed blood and instantly collapsed into death the moment her hooked blade spun into his spine.

Struck sick by the pain, it didn’t dull The Hole’s curious eye who saw to her deceased combatant’s side a box. Grasping at it, The Hole hoped it would be enough to show The Leveler her worth. In seconds after unhooking the box she was gone in a puff of smoke.

Price
11-16-2018, 08:38 AM
The Wraith had watched silently as the wounded were tended to by the talking head. So the legends of the Immortal were true. Even without a body, the power that the mage yielded was beyond the scope of anything that Colvin had ever seen. It was truly extraordinary, but that did little to quell the inner desire that he had to kick the head like a ball or a melon. That silly thought had been lingering in the back of his mind ever since he had first encountered the annoyingly chatty ally.

This had been the second time that his group had been ambushed. The band had left the city under the cover of darkness under the intent of stealth. If this was their best effort, it had thus far been a resounding and miserable failure that had reduced their company by one and potentially more if the Raven…

“Where’s Raven?” He heard the Illusion’s inquiry and immediately assumed the worst.

He turned to answer and brief the group of their run in with one of the Leveler’s lieutenants when he was cut off by a foreign voice.

“Hey! Where’d the red mage go? I’m not done with him!”

The Wraith was immediately engaged, his twin blades unsheathed and pointed towards the speaker, a tall and slender woman cloaked in red. His eyes narrowed as he took several steps down the pathway toward her to close what had been a moderate distance between them.

“Who are you, and what is your business with him? I’m sure I don’t need to remind you to choose your answer carefully...” He said sternly.

Katrina
11-20-2018, 04:13 PM
Red ran her gaze over every member of the group, her eyes moving more than her head. She spoke slowly, not yet having drawn her sword despite the possible threat from one man.
“I want to kill him.” She spoke bluntly.
She noticed the severed head on the ground. A small smile showed itself on her lips.
“I was trying to enjoy watching the fight but that red mage bastard-“
She froze, her gaze falling upon the Mer standing among them.
“Huh...” she sighed through open lips, tilting her head interestedly at the woman. She walked ever slowly towards the group, her gaze stuck to the Mer. “What...” she paused as if recontemplating her sentence. “...is a beautiful creature like yourself,” she strode past the man with blades drawn, the severed head, and the injured man on the ground, not seeming to care for them at all. “Doing in such an ugly place like this?” She reached out and took the Mer’s hand gently, but quite boldly. She kissed the back of the woman’s hand, then lifted her face and smiled, one corner of her mouth pulling higher in a devilish grin.
“I spent a too-short time among the Mer’s. I learned some intriguing things from your people. I’m Red. Do you have a name?”

Azazeal849
11-20-2018, 09:16 PM
“I want to kill him.” she spoke bluntly.

"He's buggering off down the hill." the Immortal chimed in off-handedly. "Don't let us keep you."

She noticed the severed head on the ground. A small smile showed itself on her lips. "I was trying to enjoy watching the fight but that red mage bastard-"

She froze, her gaze falling upon the Mer standing among them.

“Huh...” she sighed through open lips, tilting her head interestedly at the woman. The Ambassador mirrored the head tilt, with a blank look on her face. Red walked ever so slowly towards the group, her gaze stuck to the Mer.

“What...” She paused as if contemplating her sentence. “...is a beautiful creature like yourself,” she strode past the man with blades drawn, the severed head, and the injured man on the ground, not seeming to care for them at all. “Doing in such an ugly place like this?”

"Ugly..." the Ambassador repeated, rolling the Light word around her mouth as if testing it. "Yes. Ugly landwalkers with ugly hearts. Bringing bad change, too much and too fast."

"Who's she calling ugly?" Solar muttered, watching both the Ambassador and the Red Lady with a suspicious eye.

The Mer shifted her feet, which Red saw were textured with faint blue lines, almost like fish scales. The otherworldly creature spread her arms and twirled on the spot to encompass her unlikely companions.

"I take these to the Mer city, so they can too danger see. Danger of Leveler."

Red reached out and took the Mer’s hand gently, but quite boldly. She kissed the back of the woman’s hand, and found a taste of salt on her lips. She lifted her face and smiled, one corner of her mouth pulling higher in a devilish grin. "I spent a too-short time among the Mer."

The Ambassador blinked, as if uncertain, or wary. "You...meet Mer before?"

"I learned some intriguing things from your people. I’m Red. Do you have a name?"

The Mer brought her palms together regally. "I choose name the Ambassador."

"You can call her Ambie." the Immortal remarked from down on the ground. "And I'm actually with the fish on this one - when and why would you want to spend time with the Mer?"

Minkasha
11-21-2018, 07:23 PM
Redmoor and Davin entered the camp, stalking ahead of the spearmen who were straggling behind with the casualties. They had not gone far before a stream of black smoke came twisting through the tents and solidified in front of them.

“You’re late.” the Dark Man whispered. “The Hole teleported back ahead of you.”

“Oh?” Davin tugged at the strap beneath his chin and eased off his helmet, wincing slightly as the sweat stung the cuts on his face. “And where’s the lovely girl now, like?”

“With the Leveler.”

Redmoor gritted his teeth, and waved a dismissive hand at Davin. “Piss off and get your lunch or something. And be sure that the men are ready again when we need you.”

Davin twisted his cheek as he looked towards the city walls. “I’m guessing that’ll be soon, like.”


* * * * * *

Smoke was rising from the city, but the coiled snake banners of the Enlightened still flapped defiantly above the ramparts. Three times the Ashmen had attacked Redmoor’s breach, but though the archers rained arrows and the wizards fired their rune-bolts over the heads of the spearmen, they had not been able to push forward into the city. A tide-line of dead and wounded men had built up around the breach, until it had become almost impossible to climb, and as the midday sun hammered down the exhausted attackers had withdrawn to rest and regroup.

Things were not going to plan.

After riding the length of the army to try and encourage her wavering troops, the Leveler had called the water-carriers forward and retired to her tent - which was where Redmoor found her, along with the rest of his fellow lieutenants.

“A mer…”

The Leveler’s hands were flat on the circular table as she addressed her inner coven. The Apprentice sat to her right, and the Hole to her left, one hand still nursing a spell-healed wound at her hip. The tent canvas kept the sun off them all, but the air was stifling; and the water in the cups, though rune-purified, was unpleasantly warm.

“What in the names of the Shattered Gods did one of the mer have to do with this?”

“And there’s worse, I’m afraid.” Redmoor said, his eye ticking as he made his report. Irritable from the heat and the morning’s setbacks, the Leveler found it hard to keep her gaze from being drawn towards it. Redmoor… she thought sourly. We should probably change his name to the Twitcher.

Redmoor’s next words, however, seized her attention completely. “The Immortal was with them.”

The Leveler’s mouth fell open in surprise. No...I killed him! I blew that arrogant wretch apart with his own reflected spell! “The Immortal lives?”

“In a manner of speaking. He’s a severed head.”

“I’ll have to aim for smaller pieces next time.” the Leveler snarled. A mer and the Immortal...gods be good, what a morning! “Who was with them? One of the Enlightened?”

“The Illusion.” Redmoor said darkly.

The Leveler’s face hardened. “She didn’t die at the wall yesterday?”

“Apparently not. She’s gone back to the Lightmen.”

The Leveler’s palm slapped the table hard, causing the clay cups to rattle. “That fucking traitor!”

“Why?” the Apprentice gaped, looking baffled. “Why would she do that?”

“It doesn’t matter, she’s a dead woman.” the Leveler hid her shaking hands in her lap beneath the table, but she was clearly still livid. “Who else was there?”

Redmoor hesitated for a second before going on with his report. “Some lady who spoke Ash and looked like she’d been dragged through a bush. She kicked the shit out of your Light turncoat though.”

“The Wanderer.” the Apprentice said at once. “I fought her outside the walls yesterday. I tried to convince her to join us.”

“She said no.” the Burning rumbled, his scars twisting as he smiled.

“She’s an Ashman, a former slave.” the Apprentice insisted. “If I could just talk to her again, maybe she would understand...” He trailed off, uncertainly.

“We can’t make everyone see the light.” the Leveler said. She was still visibly chewing her tongue, but she calmed a little as she placed a hand on the Apprentice’s shoulder. “Who else?”

“Someone who they called the Raven.” Redmoor continued. “And a man in an iron mask.”

Blademaiden looked up. “A iron mask?” Her plump lips broadened into a smile, and she laughed. “Wait...you fought the Wraith? And you lived?”

The Burning made a dismissive noise. “I fought him at the city walls. And he barely lived.”

“The Wraith I’ve heard of.” the Leveler nodded, and tapped the small box of runes that the Hole had brought her. “Who’s this Raven?”

Redmoor laughed darkly. “No-one now. But he was some guy who thought I killed his family.”

Only the Apprentice caught the way the Leveler’s hand formed a fist beneath the table. I’m sorry, dear one...they’re dead. They’re both dead… The Leveler forced the memory back into the darkness of her mind.

“And did you?” she asked calmly.

Redmoor shrugged, seemingly oblivious to the thin ice he was treading on. “I never killed anybody who didn’t cross me first. But he’s just some jumped-up kid, they all are really. No threat.”

The Leveler scratched her nose with a forefinger. “Underestimating your enemies is a Lightman trait, Redmoor; don’t start picking up their habits. Say something that stupid ever again and I’ll turn you into a snake and eat you. Now go and be useful and help fortify the camp.”

Redmoor looked at her like she had just slapped him, but he knew better than to argue. Muttering under his breath, he limped out of the tent.

“A shame about that Raven.” Blademaiden commented after he had gone. “He was pretty handy in the fight at the wall.”

“If we had known before,” the Burning chuckled. “You could have given him what he wanted.”

The Leveler clasped her hands, elbows resting on the table. “What he wanted?”

Blademaiden cocked her head at the Burning, who just smiled another scar-ravaged smile. “Offered him Redmoor if he’d join us. Revenge always motivates.”

The Leveler saw her Apprentice chewing the inside of his cheek. Although both men were former slaves, their ideologies were too different to feel much kinship. Still, the Leveler felt a twinge in her gut as she recognised the truth of the Burning’s words. Revenge did motivate.

“They...they must have known!”

“I expect they did, dear one. But it was worth it to draw the Risemen out…”

“Worth it? Worth THEIR lives?”

“We are all slaves to the masters, dear one.”

The Leveler’s hand curled against her leg, crushing the material of her loose gown inside her fist.

Not any more, we aren’t.

“Not the most honourable solution.” Blademaiden was saying, unaware of the Leveler’s inner turmoil.

The Burning growled, glancing in the Leveler’s direction. “You never liked that twitchy bastard anyway.”

The unspoken post-script was plain on the stony faces around the table. None of us do.

“True enough.” the Leveler admitted. “But say I had handed him over to the Raven in exchange for his loyalty...how long do you think before Raven got to wondering if I wouldn’t sell him out just the same? Or any of you?”

She shook her head.

“No. It’d be the Illusion all over again.” She felt her mood souring once again at the mention of the name. “Come on, enough talk - we’ve got a city to conquer.”

She dismissed them with a firm slash of her hand, and one by one they filed out until only the Hole remained. The Apprentice lingered, hovering by the tent flap with one hand holding back the canvas.

“I’m fine.” the Leveler answered his unspoken question. His well-meaning concern brought a small smile to her face, but she was in no mood to summon old ghosts.

The Apprentice glanced away, seemingly casting around for something else to say instead. “Can you really do that?” he settled on after a moment.

“Do what?”

“Turn Redmoor into a snake.” A grin tugged uncertainly at the corner of the young man’s mouth. “Is the Greater Moonstone really that powerful?”

The Leveler chuckled quietly. “No.” she admitted. “But I’d happily turn myself into a giant snake and eat him that way.”

One hand came up and subconsciously brushed the fabric of her dress. The Leveler gently rubbed her stomach, feeling the small, unnaturally solid bump above her navel.

It was another time Cara caught the Leveler moving her hands during the conversation. She had watched her liberator's fingers, lips, and their gestures. The Hole always wanted to take in more of those parts, leaning more about Leveler as she used them. The mixed woman narrowed her eyes, focusing and losing focus throughout the conversation. A sparkling decoration, she hadn't said a word, letting the runes on the table and the dead man left behind be her contribution.

What was restricting the Leveler's focus?

The Hole put her hand over the Leveler's, assisting the woman in rubbing her stomach with a firm touch. Captivated in finding a meaning she kept staring at the place of contact and motion. "Your hands were speaking. How were they talking to you?" The personal care Cara held for the woman was bathed with awesome respect. If she could show it in her compassion and guidance it was to be a blessing of the open hole in space.

The Leveler paused for a moment, gathering her thoughts.

“We’re in uncharted territory now, both of us.” Her contralto voice was low, contemplative. “Was this how it felt for you too, when we found your runes after the meteor shower? Knowing you have a power and a perspective that no-one else shares?”

Cara let the question be, slipping her hand off Leveler’s and smiling. Looking down at the table Cara scanned over the contents gradually.

“Nowhere is a place you can’t go and win. I don’t feel what your hands and lips say, not when I’m beside you. The Wide Hole...” She gestured to the sky, to the great space beyond the atmosphere. “Is another way we can be free and you are freedom.” A zealous, yet carefree smile crossed the mixed woman’s face.

The Leveler attempted to return the sentiment, but the smile she tried on was a size too small. Every now and then she would see snatches of her - the woman from before; the freed slave who had stood at her side before she had become the Hole. Before I made her into the Hole. She thought of those three runes, now buried and warded away behind the strongest protective spells she knew. No-one had seen runes fall from the sky before. I let them think it was a blessing from the gods.

A blessing it had certainly been, but at what cost? Runes reshaped the mind just as they took a toll on the body - that was common knowledge. The Leveler’s former lieutenant, once almost as close to her as her Apprentice, had certainly become carefree - aggressively, inconveniently so at times - but she had also become...the Leveler tried to put a finger on the word.

Distant. And she spoke of things the rest of them couldn’t fully understand. Sometimes the Leveler wondered how much of her former acolyte was left inside the Hole at all.

She is still loyal. That is enough.

The Leveler raised her gaze from the box containing her dead enemy’s runes, and looked again at his executioner, with her warm freckled face, broad button nose and bright sea-green eyes. You are freedom, she had said.

“Perhaps I am.” the Leveler agreed, and that thought was enough to bring a true smile to her face. The Hole pulled herself away from the Leveler and took beside the Apprentice, still lingering by the tent flap. Cara hadn't let escape the fact this young man was quiet now. What things did he worry himself with? The quiet that people here knew wasn't the total silence which The Wide Hole in space cradled.

"Do all of them carry their runes?" Cara asked the young man curiously, probing him for his opinion. "Are they bait? Terrible bait that gets taken..." She remarked when looking back at the runes she had taken from the dead man.

The Apprentice let go of the tent flap and clasped his hands over his belt buckle. “I expect they carry them.” he said thoughtfully, his earth-brown eyes drifting towards the table where the small box sat. “Your friend Raven obviously did, and that’s what most wizards do if they don’t know the spells to keep them masked or warded somewhere. I didn’t see the Wanderer with any obvious pouch or necklace, but she’s a slave like us - maybe she just touched a rune and ran.”

The Hole grinned, slinging an arm around the Apprentice's neck and looking back to the Leveler.

"I should steal their runes! It wouldn't be too hard." her giddy aura took presence in the tent with a loud voice, having a chuckle follow.

The Apprentice shifted his weight onto his other foot, considering. "We'd find out what they can do - it'd be easier than fighting them again. And cleaner."

The Leveler tapped a fingernail on the box that held the late Raven's runes. "Perhaps...but not just yet. I need you here."

She rose to her feet, her gown falling in sleek lines.

"I need you to help me finish the fucking Lightmen."

Scottie
11-22-2018, 10:20 PM
Something echoed in the greens of her eyes. Fear. That like a trapped animal. The Wanderer knew she had strength but she could see this fight ending poorly for her. The man had years of training on his side and she had….an axe and some magical stones. She felt like a child, wildly tearing her axe through the air and missing every time. All previous plans of keeping calm and level headed flew promptly out of her mind when Davin sneered again. She was seconds away from hurling her axe and then herself at him in a vain attempt at making at least one hit.

Noise from behind dragged her attention towards where the loaf lay. Dust bit at her skin and she felt tears well up as pure power soared past her. Fucking finally. A thin layer of dust clung to her as she returned her attention to that prick head Davin. The man was nowhere to be seen. A haze of something lay before her, protecting them from those outwith. Her gaze landed on who she presumed to be Davin and he gifted her a salute before fleeing. A pin prickle of rage danced across her chest as she knew he had escaped. Just one breath from the Immortal Loaf of Dickery and the battle was over. The Wanderer was furious.

Her free hand curled into a tight fist as the aftermath was revealed. Solar lay moaning on the floor and it took the Wanderer a moment to realise he was actually harmed….and not just whining like a child. Yes. She agreed with the Illusion but she would have worded it differently...and with a dozen extra swears. The Immortals response did not help the rage churning in her stomach and she slowly made her way closer to him.

Just in time for the loaf to do something beneficial. Aiding Solar while the others gathered themselves. As quickly as the Wanderer had noticed the wound, it was gone. Knitted back together with whatever magic that talking loaf of shit had. The dome disappeared and instantly the Wanderer felt as if there was a target on her back. The Mer was back to taking charge and each response she gave was met by a long sigh by the Wanderer. A book with all the names would not help them. Especially with the Immortal. She could already see the scheming he was conjuring. A way of keeping that for himself so that he may never lose his powers.

The Wanderers attention was back on that loaf. Ready to pluck him up by his ear and throw him far from them for his stupidity. But she was interrupted once more. This time by a stranger. A woman clad in red who seemed to believe that the battle had yet not finished. The Wraith took a defensive stance so the Wanderer felt reasonably safe enough to keep her axe resting against the dust. “I want to kill him” She raised an eyebrow but the next comment threw her off. “I was trying to enjoy watching the fight…” Her gaze narrowed at the new comer. A observer of violence who was only pulled into a fight when one of the participants taunted her in. The Wanderer didn’t trust this woman in red.


"He's buggering off down the hill." the Immortal chimed in off-handedly. "Don't let us keep you."

The comment brought her attention back to the man of the hour….minute really. Once again, her reaction to the Immortal loaf of fuckery was delayed by the peculiar response of this new comer. Seriously. Bad change, too much and too fast….made the mer sound like they were the gods of this earth. That they had been sent to the unruly children of this land to chastise them and show them the path to righteousness...fuck off.

“Eh.” It was the first she had said since the dust had settled from their battle. “You.” She dragged her axe up to point at the Mer. “Why are you telling a complete stranger what we are doing?” Her words blunt as her gaze narrowed. The loaf spoke again. “And you.” Her axe turned back towards the head on the ground. “We are suddenly under attack and...You. Pretend.You.Are.DEAD.” The final word spat from cracked lips. Two steps closer and she had her fingers tight around the lobe of his ear. Hauling him up just enough that she could slide her hand underneath him without dropping her axe.


“That was a mighty cowardly move of you.” The Wanderer told the severed head as she brought him up to eye level. “I heard tales of you. We all have.” Her eyes dragged over his features until dull green eyes could make direct eye contact with his warm brown ones. “You aren’t half the man that I thought you would be.” She was sorely tempted to let him drop by her feet to roll in the dirt again but she held him upright. Not lowering herself to childish tactics….yet.

“You. Red one. Explain yourself.” The Wanderer was done playing games. The woman had sat on the outskirts of their battle and..now she waltzes into their group as if she belongs here. The Mer seems to be handing out information to anyone who wanders by...but the Wanderer wanted information. She needed to know who this stranger was before even beginning to trust her.

Azazeal849
11-23-2018, 03:51 PM
“Eh.” It was the first she had said since the dust had settled from their battle. “You.” She dragged her axe up to point at the Mer. “Why are you telling a complete stranger what we are doing?” Her words were blunt as her gaze narrowed.

The Mer blinked naively, as if the thought had simply not occurred to her. “Should we not?”

“And you.” Her axe turned back towards the head on the ground. “We are suddenly under attack and...You. Pretend. You. Are. DEAD.” The final word spat from cracked lips. Two steps closer and she had her fingers tight around the lobe of his ear. Hauling him up just enough that she could slide her hand underneath him without dropping her axe. “That was a mighty cowardly move of you.”

“First off, I’ll thank you to let go of my ear.” the Immortal huffed. “And second, come on, you think I'm trying to get you killed so I can get to the Leveler and steal the moonstone because I'm desperate to get my body back?”

He opened his mouth again but then paused for a moment, as if considering what he had just said.

“Well actually yes, that would be a pretty good reason, but that’s not what I was doing.”

“Where’s your proof?” the Illusion asked warily.

"Because it's a hassle!” the Immortal snapped. “Trust me, when you've been in the business this long, you try and simplify things wherever you can! I mean, what’s easier: getting you all killed or keeping around someone who can compensate for my current lack of legs?”

He cast his eyes down at the ground for a moment, and raised his eyebrows.

“And while we’re at it, what’s easier for you: smacking down a couple of ponces and their attendant spearmen, or revealing that you’re in the company of the most powerful mage in the world and have Leveler send even more ponces after you next time? You don’t need that kind of attention, and more importantly neither do I - not yet!”

The Wanderer told the severed head as she brought him up to eye level. “I heard tales of you. We all have.” Her eyes dragged over his features until dull green eyes could make direct eye contact with his warm brown ones. “You aren’t half the man that I thought you would be.”

The Immortal’s eyes slowly narrowed. “Very funny.”

She was sorely tempted to let him drop by her feet to roll in the dirt again but she held him upright. Not lowering herself to childish tactics….yet.

“You. Red one. Explain yourself.”

Katrina
11-24-2018, 08:42 PM
Through all the groups comments Red had been looking intently at Ambie. Finally she tore her eyes from the alluring blue glow of the Mer and scanned the group. The lone talking head caught her gaze again and she opened her mouth but closed it tightly. “Hm.” Was her only acknowledgment of the strange situation in front of her. She shook her head and looked back at Ambie. “I’ve spent so many years at the waters edge. Ive only seen a Mer from a distance unfortunately. But from the first look I was enchanted. Honestly I’m not too fond of humans, including being one. This whole war is entertaining, sure, but it just goes to prove your point,” She gently took Ambie’s hand again, and began caressing the back of the Mer’s hand with her fingertips. “Too much change, too fast.” She paused, glancing around the group. “There’s really not much to explain to you all. I heard the fighting, came to watch, the red mage attacked me, I fought back, he ran away, then I found this beauty.” She looked back at the Mer. “Ambie, I have a strong feeling that if I stay with you I may run into that red mage again. I’d like it if that happened. Also, I’m intrigued as to how a Mer is fairing in these conditions. If you’ll have me, I’d like to accompany you. Perhaps our interests will continue to align when it comes to our enemies.” She considered briefly showing her eyes from beneath her hood, but decided to wait for the Mer’s response before revealing herself.

Azazeal849
11-25-2018, 11:35 PM
She gently took Ambie’s hand again, and began caressing the back of the Mer’s hand with her fingertips. “Too much change, too fast.”

The Ambassador did not say anything more, though she looked down at her held hand as if still baffled by the gesture.

“You.” Wanderer broke in. “Red one. Explain yourself.”

She paused, glancing around the group. “There’s really not much to explain to you all. I heard the fighting, came to watch, the red mage attacked me, I fought back, he ran away, then I found this beauty.” She looked back at the Mer. “Ambie, I have a strong feeling that if I stay with you I may run into that red mage again. I’d like it if that happened.”

“Ahem.” Solar cleared his throat noisily. “And if we don’t like it?”

The Illusion toyed with her necklace. “As much as I would like to accept any ally we can get against the Leveler, I have to agree with Solar. We don’t know you. How do we know you won’t try and murder us in our sleep?”

Red felt a prickle in her hand, as if a static shock had just jumped from the Ambassador’s hand to her own. The Mer half-twisted to look at the Illusion.

“Oh, Red Lady will not kill you.” the ethereal creature lilted, matter-of-factly, “Red Lady does not care about you.”

Red belatedly remembered the stories; that the Mer could read people’s thoughts by touch.

“Oh.” Solar huffed sarcastically.

Illusion looked pensive. She glanced from Wanderer to Wraith and back again for some kind of verdict.

Price
12-04-2018, 08:55 PM
“You. Red one. Explain yourself.”

“There’s really not much to explain to you all. I heard the fighting, came to watch, the red mage attacked me, I fought back, he ran away, then I found this beauty.” She looked back at the Mer. “Ambie, I have a strong feeling that if I stay with you I may run into that red mage again. I’d like it if that happened. Also, I’m intrigued as to how a Mer is fairing in these conditions. If you’ll have me, I’d like to accompany you. Perhaps our interests will continue to align when it comes to our enemies.”

The Wraith raised a brow and sheathed his swords as he decided not take the stranger for an immediate threat. Even if he was wrong, the woman was surrounded by capable warriors, a Mer, and a Head of great power. He liked his chances without his blades. Still, the stranger didn’t sit right with him.

“Ahem.” Solar cleared his throat noisily. “And if we don’t like it?”

The Illusion toyed with her necklace. “As much as I would like to accept any ally we can get against the Leveler, I have to agree with Solar. We don’t know you. How do we know you won’t try and murder us in our sleep?”

‘A valid point…’ the Wraith thought.

“Oh, Red Lady will not kill you.” the ethereal creature lilted, matter-of-factly, “Red Lady does not care about you.”

Illusion looked pensive. She glanced from Wanderer to Wraith and back again for some kind of verdict.

With a heavy sigh, the masked warrior opened his mouth to speak as his cold iron face turned to the Mer. “With all due respect, you will excuse me if I do not take your words to be fact. You are as much a mystery as this stranger is, if not more…”

He paused to order and better vocalize his thoughts. “With that said, we are down at least one, potentially two, men since the start of our quest. I would not be opposed to bolstering our ranks…” His eyes now turned to the red lady. “Though if you are looking for pay, you’ll not find it from the city. It’s surrounded…”

Katrina
12-06-2018, 01:07 AM
“No.” Red shook her head slightly. “That won’t be necessary.” She stated plainly, glancing at the masked man. “Pay is the least of my concerns right now.” She looked back at the Mer, the corner of her mouth pulling into yet another devilish one-sided grin. She gripped Ambie’s hand. “Just lead the way, Mer.”

Scottie
12-06-2018, 06:15 PM
The temptation to drop the head echoed around her skull as this “Red” just ignored them. It made rage pin prickle it's way through her stomach, to be pushed to the background like she was nothing more than one of the large boulders that littered the soil around them. The woman was stupidly sure of herself to pass over questions to dote on the Mer. It was concerning, the attention the newcomer gave her. Perhaps Red was smitten… Or her intentions were not as simple as they first thought.

“I heard the fighting, came to watch, the red mage attacked me, I fought back, he ran away” What a fucking coincidence. A single glance downwards was gifted to the loaf as Red said that the enemy mage ran away. “then I found this beauty.” Her stomach flipped as she let her gaze return to the Mer. Ew. This Red one appeared out of thin air, fought an enemy...and now is making love struck googly eyes at the Mer. Why? The word burned a joke through the tip of her tongue. She didn’t get a chance to air her thoughts when Solar spoke his mind and waited for a response.

“Oh, Red Lady will not kill you.” the ethereal creature lilted, matter-of-factly, “Red Lady does not care about you.”

It appeared to be the wrong response for Solar. The man let a deep breath escape his cracked lips before sending an unamused glare to the ground. His gaze dragged over the group as of he was searching for another voice of reason. One was missing. A small crinkle burrowed into his forehead and he let his heavy feet kick dust up as he moved away from the group.

The Wanderer remained silent. Letting the others voice their concern as dull eyes dragged over the newcomer. She agreed with the Wraith. The woman had given no reason for them to trust her. “I don't like it” Her voice clear and strong as she kept a firm grip on her axe. “You have given us no reason to trust you. All that Ambie has confirmed is that you are more preoccupied with trying to get closer to the Mer… for what appears to be unsavoury reasons.”

“We are not a group of people out for vengeance. Out to settle a fucking feud that started 5 minutes ago or fuck something they set eyes on 3 minutes ago. This is bigger than you, so unless you realise that...I don't see any point you joining us.” The Wanderer let her words settle like the dust around them. The red one grinned and gripped the Mer’s hand tight. “This isn’t some fucking children’s adventure...Oh for fucks sake.” She turned her attention to the head in her hands. “You’ve been quiet for once….What’s your opinion on this?”

The loaf opened his mouth to spout some egotistical bull shit when Solar’s voice broke through the momentary silence. “Over here. Now.” The urgency in his voice was unusual, enough to make the Wanderer stop glaring at the newcomer and the Mer. She didn’t give the loaf any chance to refuse to go any closer, she moved closer to Solar’s voice and kept her axe close by her side. Blood had a horrible smell and the closer they got to Solar, the more it became overwhelming.

Raven lay motionless before them. His eyes wide open, staring at a non-existent foe. Another had fallen. Her lips tightened into a thin line and she let a deep sigh escape her nostrils. The look in the Raven’s eyes was gut wrenching but her attention was dragged to the fact that his leg was missing. Jagged edges told her it was teeth that had torn the leg from his body. What the fuckity fuck was big enough to do that...and yet somehow none of them had noticed it...

Azazeal849
12-06-2018, 08:29 PM
The Loaf in her hands seemed to be thinking along the same lines.

“Eeech.” the Immortal said, pulling a face. “Perhaps we should get moving sooner rather than later?”

“And just leave him here?” Solar challenged, glancing back at Wraith.

“Solar’s right.” said Illusion. “We should at least bury him.”

The Immortal sighed as if she had caused him a great personal inconvenience, and rolled his eyes towards the pile of rubble that had been brought down during the wizards’ duel. A bolt of invisible force zagged past the other mages, and with a teeth-itching buzz the rocks and earth lifted themselves to pour down over Raven’s savaged corpse. In moments their former companion had disappeared.

“There, he’s buried.” the Immortal huffed. “Can we go now?”

Solar shook his head, arms crossed. “What’s your problem?”

“Besides being broke, bodiless and stuck with you people?”

“You know, you don’t have to be a dick.”

The Immortal raised his eyebrows. “True. But why deny myself one of life’s simple pleasures?”

Azazeal849
12-06-2018, 08:37 PM
The Leveler could hear the blood roaring in her ears.

The city of Ash was choked with its namesake, ribbons of swirling, burning dust that veiled anything more than a few yards ahead. Fireballs of burnt stone mushroomed skyward as rune spells flashed back and forth. Statues of old Ash rulers toppled with slow, inevitable majesty, breaking into pieces as they fell.

Dust blasted into their faces, fighting them as hard as the Old Masters’ battle mages. Leveler limped forwards into the teeth of the hurricane, watching explosions slide and skid off the thin screen of Blademaiden’s barrier rune. The lean woman gritted her teeth and fought to keep pace, the sabre in her right hand blazing with yellow light. At the Leveler’s other shoulder her Apprentice threw out his hands, and there was a sharp cry from the opposing mages as they were scooped up and hurled across the palace atrium. They hit the ground and tumbled for another five metres, finally cracking to a stop against the plinth of a ruined statue. The Hole threw her pike, and a glimmer of starlight whistled past Leveler to poleaxe another enemy mage off his feet.

The Burning One was a laughing, leering cyclone of fire off to Leveler’s left, while to her right Redmoor splintered the columns of the atrium. Tiles rattled and slithered from the roof, shattering as they hit the floor. Behind her, a rag-tag battalion of former slaves thumped weapons against shields, chanting defiance in her name. The Arbiter and Weaver were urging them on.

Leveler and her Apprentice raised their hands together, and the gold-inlaid doors of the palace thundered inward, priceless carvings splintering across the mosaic floor. Dust and ash billowed in, mantling the Leveler as she stepped across the threshold. For a moment the storm died and all she could hear was the breath tearing raggedly in her own chest. Then the air screamed.

Lightning slithered back and forth, crackling off rune wards and blasting chunks out of the walls. Blademaiden’s shield imploded, forcing the Leveler to spread her hands and raise her own. She felt the impact immediately, searing up her arms and compressing her brain inside her own skull. Electric fire boiled all around. The roof beams failed with a groaning crunch. As the roof caved in, the fires inside gleefully sucked in oxygen and gusted up, leaping ten metres high.

As daylight streamed into the palace, the unrelenting barrage trailed off, and the unbearable pressure inside Leveler’s head ceased. She saw her enemies plain, shielding their faces from the light with claw-like hands.

The Old Masters. Old men, old women; fingers crooked and swollen red from rune-inflamed arthritis, shoulders bowed under the weight of silken robes and gold chains. Across the brief lull in the battle, they stared at her with bitter hatred.

“Leveler.” one of them spoke. Her voice was cold, sharp - the kind of voice that a murderer’s dagger would use if it could speak. “There’s a lot of blood on your hands. And not nearly enough of it is yours.”

“There’s going to be more yet.”

When the Leveler had pictured this moment, she hadn’t been sure what she would feel. She had fled; she had denounced the Old Masters; she had stolen runes and built an army that would change the face of the Valley forever. First slaves, then mercenaries, then famed mages like Blademaiden and the Grey Sisters, all fighting for her cause. Her cause was change - the end of the old order - but her hatred was personal. And now she had won, and the Old Masters must know it.

“You sent my parents to die in the war.” she accused the dessicated husks in front of her. “They believed in you, and you spent their lives like cheap coins.”

“Child!” the Old Master spat. “You think you know what’s best for this city’s people?”

“What’s best for you.” the Leveler replied coldly. “You know why I recruit slaves? For the first time, I understand something of what they feel.”

“Then I think you need the full experience.” The withered Old Masters raised their hands as one, limbs running with electric light. “Your day has come, Leveler.”

When the Leveler had pictured this moment, she hadn’t been sure what she would feel. And now she found herself smiling. “And yours is about to end.”


Part 3 - The Mer

https://img11.deviantart.net/6066/i/2013/183/c/f/evil_mermaid_by_julieschon-d6bpeet.jpg

By now the sun had risen to its peak, and in the middle of the dry season its heat pressed down like a physical force. A cooling breeze from the sea kept the air bearable, wuthering across the beach every few seconds to send whitecaps scudding over the waves, and tugging at the clothes of the six companions who now stood at the water’s edge.

Wraith and the others were alone on the beach - most of the villagers were either taking shelter from the midday sun, or else still hiding from the rune duel they had heard echoing down the mountainside. Their only companions were the seabirds, hovering above them on the rising thermals as they eyed the waves for fish.

“Now.” the Ambassador said, blinking her liquid eyes at the group. She was holding the Immortal’s head in her hands. “We must swim.”

“I wouldn’t mind the refreshment.” Solar commented. “But I’ve never tried holding my breath for more than a couple of minutes. You still got those runes you stole from the bitch at the river?”

The Ambassador propped the Immortal in the crook of her arm as she retrieved the small bag that Wanderer had given her for safekeeping. She looked at the bag for a second.

“All touch...yes, good.” Holding the bag up, again rather gingerly, she handed it off to Solar.

“Do you want me to touch you with it?” Illusion offered, speaking to the Immortal’s severed head.

The Immortal offered her one of his winning smiles, but this one was pyrite false. “I once spent six days in a flooded cavern network, searching for the rune of preservation. Also, as people never seem to get tired of pointing out, I’m a freaking disembodied head - and I’m still talking. You really think I need your pissy air-bubble rune to survive underwater?”

Katrina
12-08-2018, 08:50 PM
Red couldn’t help but crack a small smile. She sort of liked the severed heads smartass comments. She didn’t know what or who he was, or even how he came to be a severed head, but she liked the unique air she felt from him. He reminded her of someone from her past. Several people actually, when she thought about it hard enough. There was always someone like him in a large group. Since she had been in several over the years, she recognized his place among the other immediately. Like every time before though, she didn’t imagine herself staying with these people very long. Especially with the axe woman’s views. Red didn’t feel unaccustomed to being rejected, and it didn’t bother her much. Still, Red felt a microscopic urge to prove to that woman that she herself had survived this long, and had done things her own way which poses no threat to how the short woman’s axe would swing. She pushed the urge away though, and instead recalled the feelings of joking and laughing with her last group of comrades. Something she would avoid with this group. She didn’t want to get attached, despite the Mer’s beauty, or stay too long. The memory passed by her quickly as she shook her head free of the thought, urging her to let out a soft pondering “hmm,” apparently unaware of herself.

She looked out at the open water, the rolling waves, and remembered why she loved the sea.
“Mer,” she called softly. “Just how wet are we getting here? Can I keep this all one or should I take it off right now?” She gestured to her robes, her gloves having been placed back on her hands, and her scarf having been pulled back up over her mouth. Despite the way it sounded coming from her lips, the question was completely serious.

Azazeal849
12-11-2018, 09:20 PM
The Ambassador tilted her head, blinking.

“Oh yes.” she said almost mischievously, handing the Immortal’s head to Wanderer and spreading her arms as she turned a circle. “We all get very wet!”

She paused, hands coming together as she tilted her head again. “Landwalker never touch water before?”

Solar loosened the string on the bag he had been handed, revealing the glinting runestones. He raised an eyebrow at Red, all swathed in heavy cloth despite the heat. “Are you not baking in all that?”

He touched the rune and pulled his fingers back as if from a static shock, before handing it to Wraith.

Scottie
12-13-2018, 02:13 PM
Even with the gentle kiss of cool air, the sun was gathering sweat on her brow and neck. It was an uncomfortable heat but she continued on with the others. Her feet pleading with her to stop walking over the blistering hot sand. The water had made her stop in her tracks when they first came across it. It was more than she had ever seen before. It reminded them all just how big this world was. The screeching seabirds were slowly getting on her nerves.

There was something eerily beautiful about the Mer as she stood before the water. It was as if she was finally back with a missing piece of herself. “We must swim” Excuse me. The Wanderer glanced at the freezing water and slowly crossed her arms over her chest. Like fuck she was swimming. Solar came out with a surprisingly intelligent comment and the wanderer was glad that she had sneakily touched the runes before handing them to the Mer. A soft snort left the wanderer as Illusion asked the Immortal whether he’d like to be touched by the runes. His response was now expected, a smug smile and something about how great he was.


“Dickhead” She let the word barely brush her lips as she raised an eyebrow at the loaf. If the wanderer face palmed every time that the Mer was asked something that sounded vaguely inappropriate or someone made an innuendo...her face would have a permanent hand shaped bruise. No one was helping the situation here and the wanderer was expecting the loaf to come out with the dirtiest old man laugh known to man. When the weighty head was gifted back to her, the wanderer turned him over and repeated his own words to him. “You really think I need your pissy air-bubble rune to survive underwater?”

“Shall we find out?” She winked at him and placed him gently on the ground, facing the water. There was a clear path to the water on her right. He had been a constant grate on her nerves the entire journey. Constantly demanding to be held high enough to see where they were going at all times. He only wanted to be held by certain people, his requests were never polite and his snark had finally gotten on her last nerve.

Cool metal rested against the back of his head. She gave him just enough time to question it before she reared the axe back and gently whacked the back of skull. Not enough force to send him flying through the air...but strong enough to make him skip over the final few steps to the water and land with a glorious “plop” in the water.

The wanderer let out a deep sigh with a genuine smile on her lips. She had been thinking about doing that the entire journey here. “Come on then.” Her harsh voice sounded as she ran the last few steps, swinging her axe onto her back and dove into the water. Sand brushed her stomach as her form was barely covered in the water. Green eyes snapped open in search of the freaking loaf, half expecting to see him floating upwards with all the goddamn hot air that filled his skull.

Katrina
12-15-2018, 04:27 AM
Red didn’t look at Solar, but spoke loud enough for everyone to hear. “It’s a bit uncomfortable, yes, but I prefer being covered than exposed.” She reached out as she spoke and touched one rune with her fingertips. She looked straight at Ambie and spoke with a smile. “I’ve been in water before. Plenty of times.” She looked at the rolling waves and contemplated how possible it would be to create a room with her own rune and just use that to preserve air. She decided quickly she wanted to withhold as much information from these people as she could. She looked at Ambie to say she was ready, but was stricken by the Mer’s beauty, as she stood before the water. She thought back to the moment she first saw a Mer. Years ago, when she saw a head emerge from the water while she ate on the cliff side. The brilliant blue skin, the raindrops bouncing off the waters surface. The gleaming eyes that locked with her own.

Red let out a reminiscing sigh, smiling beneath her scarf. “Ambie. Ready when you are.”

Azazeal849
12-26-2018, 04:51 PM
The Ambassador looked slowly around the group. “Follow, then.”

The mer stepped down into the water, wading forward until the water was dragging at the hem of her tunic. She halted suddenly, motionless save for the breeze plucking at her salt-crusted dreadlocks. She tilted her head back, spread her arms wide...and flopped face-first into the water.

For a moment there was only the rustling of surf, and the nonplussed silence of Wraith and Wanderer’s companions. Then a great blue fishtail reared up to slap the water, and the Ambassador’s head breached the surface a moment later, vivid red hair plastered to her face. She raised both arms into the air and beamed, palms turned outwards triumphantly.

“Follow!” she urged again, and began to swim out into the open water.

As Wanderer edged into the water, the half-submerged head of the Immortal narrowed its eyes and blew a fountain of angry bubbles in her direction.

They were perhaps a half kilometer away from the shore when the mer stopped again, treading water. She stared intently, mesmerized by some fixed location before her.

She grinned evilly, her eyes glittering as words broke from her lips, in a language none of the party could decipher. Her voice was suddenly low and echoed unnaturally, sounding more like a whale’s melody than that of a human.

The water around them began to surge, looping around them in a great whirlpool with life of its own. Before long the raging cascades rose in height, and like stooping giants swallowed the party whole into the depths.

Through the wavering bubbles that covered their heads, the group saw little at first but waves of silt ribboning through the murky water. Slowly however the eddies settled, and a dull blue glow began to manifest below them. They were vaguely aware that they were still sinking - down and down and down again. They were drifting too, carried by the Ambassador’s conjured current, though it was impossible to tell how far or how fast.

The chill water warmed as they descended, and the glow of light intensified to outline tall spires of coral rising up to meet them. Between the lumpy, beckoning fingers, they could see carpets of green kelp, delineated into farm-like squares. The blue light came from long plants that snaked around the coral towers, each vine heavy with bioluminescent fronds that swayed in the current. The light-draped coral fingers became larger as the group sank towards them, eventually closing around them.

They sank further, down between two of the squared-off kelp forests. Wanderer and Wraith could see a sandy floor below them, broken by thin fissures which vented smoky streams of hot water. The coral towers loomed high over them now, and crowded between their glowing vine mantles were bursts of colour where anemones and other sea life had colonised the spires. Shoals of little fish darted around the towers, but they saw no larger creatures.

There was no sound, except the low roar of the vents. No, that was not the right way to describe it - for there was some kind of vibration carried by the water, a melody of some unknown origin. Mysterious, dark, enchanting…and foreign.

To anyone not hailing from this place, the introduction to this new world felt undesired, almost scary and unneeded. But needed it was, for they still had much to accomplish.

Under the heavy blue glow, the Ambassador began to propel herself along the path between the kelp with slow sweeps of her tail. Wraith and Wanderer became aware of a steady clicking sound, rising and then fading away - first to their left, then to their right. It came in bursts, like dolphin chatter. The humans could not escape the impression of voices, talking back and forth in an alien language.

Suddenly the Mer were all around them, emerging out of the kelp and drifting from behind coral reefs. Their pale bodies shone under the blue light, patterned skin merging into silvered scales. Their eyes were huge and dark, but when they caught the light of the coral vines they shone back like lamps. None of them carried a visible weapon, but somehow there was still something threatening about their empty hands. They silently surrounded the group, long hair drifting freely in the current, feline eyes glowing.

The group noted that the Ambassador seemed unwilling to oppose the silent circle, avoiding direct eye-contact in a way which was nothing like how she normally acted.

Another stream of clicks rippled around the circle of Mer. It was impossible to tell which ones were making the noise - their lips didn’t move. Wraith and Wanderer both felt an odd sensation, like cold water trickling through their ears and diffusing across the inside of their skulls.

Why?

The thought appeared simultaneously in their heads. From the way Illusion and Solar flinched, they guessed that their companions had heard the same thing. The voice in their heads was not their own - it was low, and very, very sure of itself.

Why? the thought manifested again, and this time the clicking around them intensified, and a dozen other thought-voices chorused behind the first, echoing coldly around Wraith and Wanderer’s minds. Why? they whispered insistently. Why-why-whywhywhywhywhyhyhyyhhyyyy?

Scottie
12-30-2018, 05:26 PM
The sudden burst of colour made her pause. Crimson hair lapped at the Mers shoulders and a new beautiful tail replaced her legs. A word was thrown at them and the wanderer sighed softly. Now to follow the overgrown tuna to their deaths. She would have pushed herself forward, letting the cool water dance over the goosebumps that littered her arms but….Laughter burst free from her lips, true belly laughs as the Immortal floated before her. A fountain of angry bubbles came towards her and she knew the words he was calling her would make Illusion blush.

With a wink, she tugged him closer and deposited him in her bag. He was still floating within and through a small gap, he could see everything that they did. The wanderer knew he would have prefered to be attached to someone's head or be held by the Mer so he could be first to see everything. But he got the bag. It was the best she could do for now.

The wanderer was not raised near a large body of water. Her swimming was child like. She had been forced to escape through narrow rivers when she first fled her home. But nothing like this. There was something terrifying about the emptiness around them. It echoed deep in her chest. They were vulnerable with the depth underneath them. Fighting now...would just not be possible. The crimson fish demon stopped and words spilled from her lips. Not one word was a language that the Wanderer had heard before.

A curtain of water rose around them and panic struck deep into her bones. A soft chorus of “no” left her throat. Fear was etched into her face. Her bag was curled close to her chest as water crashed around them, the current dragging them downwards. Her eyes remained tightly shut as the rune gifted her air to breath. Tears dribbled down scarred cheeks, each breath was harshly dragged in. Silt danced around them and her eyes snapped open when she could feel it gritty texture drag against her skin. Wrinkled fingertips let the bag float before her. For a single moment, she held eye contact with the Immortal before letting him floating to her side.

This sinking sensation was new. She did not like it. She wasn't in control. She could not stop it. All she could do was concentrate on the back of the Mer and plead to whoever was listening that this wasn’t a trap.

Life. She had not expected to see life underneath the blue. Colours that should only be on land. Coral that seemed to reach for them, kelp that danced in welcome and blue light...Another attempt was given to kick herself away from the coral that they were heading for. It failed. She was so easily sucked in with the others. The sea floor should have given her some comfort, they couldn’t go down any further….right. It only filled her stomach with dread. If the bubble around her head burst, she had no chance in reaching the surface in time. A single glance upwards was enough to floor her.

The new noise was only slightly louder than her thundering heart in her ears. This was a mistake, to come down here. To come where they held the upper hand. The wanderer couldn’t place the clicking. It seemed to come from all around them. It felt like the coral was watching them...like the clicks were them talking about the newcomers. The bastards.

It felt like an ambush. They held no weapons but their presence and numbers made her push herself back to the others. Forcing the group to stay closer together. Their Mer was acting strange. It did not help the uneasiness that the Wanderer felt. The sensation that forced itself into her body against her will made her shake her head violently. Why? Why what? Why were they here? Why did the Ambassador.Why did the Ambassador bring them? It didn’t seem like their Mer was going to respond so Aggie swallowed her pride and fear.

It would have been humourous to see. A grown woman with an axe strapped to her back and a severed head in her bag….doggy paddling towards their Mer. When close enough, her left hand reached out to touch the pale blue skin of the Ambassador. Hoping to wake her from whatever shame trance she had herself in. The wanderers dull tired eyes snapped up to the Mer surrounding them, no longer shying away from their cold gaze. Floating by the Ambassador, she raised her chin and stared down those who continued to click. “We need your help.” She said plainly.

Katrina
12-30-2018, 11:45 PM
The fear on the Wanderers face was clear. Red almost felt bad for the axe woman, but she was too enveloped with her own amazement to feel anything for the woman who had tried to verbally cut her down earlier. She glanced over her shoulders, twirling in the water in near weightlessness, grinning beneath her scarf. She quickly fell behind the rest of the group. The shimmering blue, the colorful corals and strings of kelp. Red felt a kind of fascination she hadn’t felt in years.
The Mer surrounded her, dominant in their domain. Yet Red felt no fear. No danger. Instead she felt enchanted. She heard the axe woman making sounds like speech, but wasn’t sure what exactly was being said.
Red ungloved one hand, then outstretched it towards the encirclement of Mer, offering and asking in one gesture.

Azazeal849
01-02-2019, 11:32 PM
“We need your help.” she said plainly.

The Ambassador raised her gaze furtively, and emitted a stream of dolphin-clicks that the Wanderer hoped was a translation.

Several of the Mer lashed their tails to drift closer, and the trilling of clicks around them trailed off into a slower, more menacing tick.

Help? The word sifted through the humans' minds like sand through dry bones. One of the Mer tilted its head to regard Red's outstretched hand. The Ambassador kept herself low, and clicked another alien explanation.

Change. The unblinking eyes of the Mer fell upon the humans. Some merely drifted in place; others began to circle, trailing streamers of sand as their tails disturbed the seabed. Change!

Leveler? Another mind-voice whispered, and then others took up the name - rising and falling like the crash of surf. Leveler. Leveler! Leveler-leveler-leveler-leveler-levelevelevelerelereler!

The Mer who had been regarding Red's hand drifted closer, until Wanderer and Red could see themselves reflected in its bottomless black eyes. Though they were no experts on such things, the Mer appeared male. His expression was blank but he seemed agitated, with tiny tremors of his arms and fins stirring the water around him so that his hair drifted like seaweed. He tilted his head again, and emitted a single sharp click.

How help? threaded through the humans' minds, low and suspicious.

Kiro Akira
01-08-2019, 02:20 PM
"Leveler-Leveler-Leveler" The Merfolk repeated over and over, their voices rang in Solars head as more of an annoyance. "Yes the Leveler..." He grumbled and scratched at his head as a few more repeated it even after his words. "For fucks sake, yes the Leveler. Now shut the hell up or I'm going to be having a rather fancy fish dinner tonight!" He spoke up above the creatures and finally silence. "Are you going to help us or not? If not I'm wasting time here when I could be finding someplace helpful."

As Solar finished his wprds, he hushed himself retreating to his thoughts. ' Stupid fucking Merfolk, useless ass fish is what they are. Always causing me headaches....' Soon after his short mind rant he paused realizing they were telepathic creatures.

Katrina
01-10-2019, 05:12 PM
Her hand still loosely outstretched, Red looked to Ambie for any hint at what to do next. She was shocked when she vaguely heard one of the mens remarks involve fishy dinner. He had the audacity to threaten these magnificent creatures?!

Red felt a sense of alertness, and hoped to any god that would listen, that the Mer didn’t anger over his comment and decline to help them altogether. Again, Red looked to Ambie for a hint or cue of any kind.

Scottie
01-12-2019, 05:00 PM
It reminded her of feral dogs. A pack slowly circling their prey, the sand bursting up was just another distraction from an attack. The clicks sounded more and more threatening with every burst. The Wanderer was as subtle as she could be in shifting her body to a more defensive stance. She would be ready for any attack that came their way. “Help?” The word made shivers drag up her spine. She wanted them to stop with their mind tricks. If they could force words into her skull...what else could they put there? ”Change! The wanderer visibly tensed with every bubbled word forced into her mind. Her arms tensing up as the intrusion brought her deep discomfort.

Worn molars ground themselves together as a violent intrusion burst through her mind. They knew the name. That much was clear. A mer drifted closer into her vision. Red’s hand was stretched out….reminiscent of children reaching for a dog to pet them. “Keep your distance. Let them have their space.” Her words were not only for Red but for the group. They did not need to make the Mer concerned. Her next word was specifically for Red, for she had an inkling the woman would not drop her hand. Red’s gaze was fixated on Ambie. As if their next cue would come from the Mer who was shying away, her own eyes planted to the sand beneath them. The Wanderer let her stare flick to the Mer who was clearly not pleased by the gesture of peace from Red and back to the woman who kept her hand raised. “Please.”

“How help?” The words rumbled through her skull. A deep heavy voice asked a question that the Wanderer did not know the answer to. Before she could formulate a coherent response, Solar interrupted. His brashness and impatience clear to all. “There is no where else helpful.” The wanderer did not gift him her eye contact, her words were spat over her shoulder at him. “If you wish to return up to the surface, go. But if you are staying….you will be silent.” Her words held a scolding tone familiar in many people's youth….that of a mother who was at the end of her tether.

The crowd of Mer before her seemed to remain still but their tails picked up a steady stream of sand. It danced around their brightly coloured tails and gave them a further mystical look. The wanderer swallowed back her previous rage and took a moment before forcing herself to plead for help (Something she had always promised herself that she would never do.) “The Leveller is too strong. She is destroying cities with no effort. She has the Gr...Greater Moonstone…” She paused for a moment, letting the words slowly roll off her tongue. Yes. The Greater Moonstone that was correct. “We need whatever help you can give us. Please.”

Azazeal849
01-12-2019, 06:13 PM
Again, Red looked to Ambie for a hint or cue of any kind.

“Keep your distance. Let them have their space.” Wanderer’s words were not only for Red but for the group. They did not need to make the Mer concerned. Her next word was specifically for Red, for she had an inkling the woman would not drop her hand. Red’s gaze was fixated on Ambie. As if their next cue would come from the Mer who was shying away, her own eyes planted to the sand beneath them. The Wanderer let her stare flick to the Mer who was clearly not pleased by the gesture of peace from Red and back to the woman who kept her hand raised. “Please.”

The Ambassador nodded rapidly.

The other mer seemed agitated. The one before Red shot upward with a powerful sweep of his tail and floated above, watching them. He rattled a long trill of clicks, gradually slowing until it was a low, heartbeat tick.

How help? the whispered words came again.

“The Leveller is too strong. She is destroying cities with no effort. She has the Gr...Greater Moonstone…” Wanderer paused for a moment, letting the words slowly roll off her tongue. Yes. The Greater Moonstone, that was correct. “We need whatever help you can give us. Please.”

The Ambassador clicked what was presumably a confirmation of Wanderer’s words. The circle of Mer seemed to consider for a moment.

Balance. they murmured, clicking among themselves. Book.

With startling suddenness, one of the drifting creatures flicked its tail and darted away into the kelp. The others didn’t move, silent now. The disturbed sand of the first Mer’s departure drifted slowly to the seabed once more.

The Ambassador caught her companions’ uneasy looks. She held out her hands to brush against Wanderer and Red’s.

Mer wary. The Ambassador’s voice was a bright stab against the slow, insistent scraping of the other Mer. Know that no destructive force in existence greater than landwalkers in grip of absolute certainty.

Certainty. the Mer around them echoed, the word slithering through their minds like cold oil. Certainty! they whispered again, and this time it sounded more like a demand than a statement. The clicking struck up once more, intensified.

Wanderer and the others understood; the Mer wanted certainty that giving them this power was the right thing to do.

Names. the Mer whispered, as several of their number flitted forward, rippling through the light cast by the coral towers. There was one Mer for each of them, all holding a slender arm forward with their long nails glowing blue under the bioluminescent light.

Names. they urged again.

Katrina
01-15-2019, 03:10 AM
Just as Red was about to withdraw her hand, Ambie brushed their skin to relay her message. Red understood instantly.

Certainty. For a war to be fought, both sides must be certain they are fighting for something. Participants must be certain of their actions. To WIN a fight, a battle of any kind, one must be certain of each step, breath, strike, and blow.

“But humans....” she thought loosely. “Humans are such uncertain creatures.”

It had taken Red most of her life and so so many mistakes to be certain of her actions as they are now. All this attention on the leveler, and on winning this war, Red felt unsure. She hated that feeling. She withdrew her hand completely.

She was unsure about this groups larger goals, but she was sure of her own. She wanted to find the red mage and beat him. That was her certainty.

A Mer held out its slender arm, requesting a name. Again, Red felt certainty. The certainty that came with her name. The name she had given herself. The name she was sure was true.
Red.
Alive, Red is all she will ever be. Inside, she is red blood, and muscles and tendons and organs and bones, all drenched in red blood. If she were penetrated by any weapon the Mer could conjure, the water around her would swirl with blood. She is certain of her own existence, and with that certainty in mind, Red took the Mer’s outstretched hand. She hoped he would see her thoughts for the certainty they held.

Scottie
01-21-2019, 09:35 PM
The Wanderer dug her teeth into her tongue with the Ambassadors words. They sounded so fucking pious. Creatures who possessed such power but stayed away from the petty squabbles of man….yet...they know of no more destructive force. It made her see the creatures in a new light. Certainty. It was an obvious demand. There was no trust with the newcomers. Why should they help them when they do not trust them?


The first time they asked, it was ignored. Her attention was on the Mer who were slowly drifting closer to them. A hand outreached. Names. It finally clicked. Her stomach dropped to her feet. They wanted her to give her name. The one thing that could bring her to her knees. The one true power over all those that held runes. They expected her to give it freely.

Not bloody likely.

Trust is a two way street. They have her nothing but hostility since they arrived. Yes, once she uttered her name they would help them...supposedly. The ambassador trusted them enough to bring them here, but the once proud Mer now stared only at the sand beneath her tail.

She would not give them her name. It was hers. It wasn’t forced upon her, it wasn’t a number that was branded into her skin. It was a name that was brushed onto her forehead with a soft kiss one morning when she was 7. Even a false smile could not hide the tears that dribbled down her mother's cheeks. A 7 year old that couldn’t follow simple orders was merely sent onto another Master. It was the last time she had heard her name uttered with kindness, with love...not hatred.

No. The wanderer would not give them that name. It was too important. She could not bring herself to give it...but she would give them something equally if not more precious.

***

“What is your name, Boy.”

Dust danced along the freckles that kissed his nose. A small wrinkle of a button nose chimed as large green eyes fixed on the large man. His lips remained in a tight line as the oaf of a man scanned the child again. Just 7. He was a runt. But he was that stubborn slaves runt. Having something over her always helped. If he could get the boy on his side, even just his name….he could perhaps stop the quick tongue of that bitch.

A simple nod was all the man was gifted.

“Boy. I asked a question”

The unmistakable glean of intelligence echoed in the child’s eyes as he tilted his head. “Ma calls me A chroí .” A short puff of hot air left the nostrils of the ogre before the child. “I don’t give two fucks what your ma calls you.” Brown curls twisted onto his shoulders as the child tilted his head to the other side. The green eyes should have been warning enough. Any child of Vexie would not give a simple answer. They were stubborn down to their very bones.

“Ma also calls me A chroí ” Bare feet brushed the sand beneath him as he took a step back. “Or A mhuirnín” Another step backwards from the man who loomed closer, his anger clear for all to see. “Sometimes A ghrá”

“Listen here, you little shit”

Grubby fingers reached out to grab a handful of curls when the child took another step backwards. His head softly hit against the warm body of another. A voice that he found comforting but others compared to metal hitting hollow rock. “My child’s name is Engis. Is that all?” His mother's fingers gripped his shoulder and in one swift movement, he was behind her. Squared shoulders and a glare enough to make a charging bull think twice. The man rolled his shoulders before spitting at her feet and heading off to take his rage out on another poor soul.

****

That earned him two more scars….and she was gifted three new stripes on her back. But he reminded her of herself when she was younger. She needed to quell that stubbornness in him before he was taken from her...or worse.

The small smile that had drifted onto her lips suddenly left. Lifeless eyes dragged up to the Mer before them as her left hand moved to the small pouch hidden under floating cloth. Her eyes were momentarily dragged from the creature to find exactly what she was looking for.

The name she wished to give rang in her heart. It was a name she gave. A name she chose. A name that was more precious than any stone that lay in her palm.

“This.” She held the rune in the middle of her palm. The rune that had saved her life so many times...but failed to save his. “This...belonged to Kian.” Painful tears pricked at her eyes. His face clear as day in her mind. His laugh echoing in her ears. She could still smell him and feel his small hand in hers. She paused to swallow back some tears. “This belonged to Kian...son of Agrona. My son. That is the name I give you.”

Azazeal849
01-22-2019, 08:42 PM
Red took the Mer’s outstretched hand. She hoped he would see her thoughts for the certainty they held.

If she were not already surrounded by water, she would have felt like she had just been plunged into it. A shiver ran down her spine, and her vision blurred with bubbles - but instead of air, each bubble was a thought.

Alana. the Mer’s voice whispered, draining down through her brain like water through a colander. Child of Sirshe.

The others were looking from her to the Wanderer, and for a moment she wondered if they had all heard her most dangerous secret, or just her.

“This.” Wanderer slowly held out her palm. A smooth runestone sat in the middle of it, reflecting the light of the coral towers. The Mer facing her flitted back half a metre. To their consternation, the others could see that Wanderer was crying. “This belonged to Kian...son of Agrona. My son. That is the name I give you.”

The Mer was silent. For a moment, the mages weren’t certain if it was moved by her words at all, or if it even understood empathy. It looked down at the rune for a moment with its abyssal eyes, then fixed them back on Wanderer, scrutinising her expressionlessly.

Agrona. the creature whispered without voice. With a long rattle of clicks, it withdrew.

Solar glanced at Illusion - still uncertain, and for once, quiet. Illusion looked back at him.

“If this is what needs to be done.” the defector said, and put out her hand to clasp that of the Mer opposite her.

“I will do this.” Wraith said, the magnifying effect of the water turning his voice into a deep growl. “But know that I reserve judgement on the Leveler until I see her for myself.”

They took the Mers’ hands, and for a moment the clicking all around them ceased. Suddenly, there was nothing but the slow rumble of the current, and the gentle swaying of the kelp.

Orin. a whisper inside all their heads broke the silence. Orin, child of Ava.

Sage. another took up the sussurating words. Child of Scarlet.

More voices joined in, blurring over each other, gaining in volume as they repeated their names like a chant.

Agrona...Orin…Alana...Sage...COLVIN...ORIN SAGE AGRONA-ALANA-COLVINORINALANASAGEAGRONA!

Just when the chorus became too loud to be bearable, it cut off into roaring silence, as the Mer that had disappeared came snaking back through the kelp towards them. It held a book in its hands, bound together with what looked like simple leather. It darted forward and pressed the book into Red’s hands.

GO. the voices thundered as one, and each mage felt a tug and a rushing in the water as they were lifted up by a sudden current, dragged upwards in a scatter of silt and bubbles. The sand sank away below them, the bubbles wriggled away over their heads, and darkness closed in around them as the bioluminescent glow receded to nothing beneath their feet. The water grew colder, then warmer again, and they could feel the weight against their skin lessening as the invisible force carried them inexorably up and up and up.

Suddenly there was light above them once again, dappling down through the murky green. With alarming suddenness they burst out into open air. Wanderer felt her feet dragging on sand and her knees buckled, only to find herself crashing into the shallows at the very edge of the beach they had left. A wave crashed, and foamy water ran through the fingers she had splayed out to catch herself.

“Fucking Mer.” Solar bitched as he too stumbled from the dragging embrace of the water. “I bet they don’t even pay taxes.”

“I wouldn’t mind that.” Wraith countered, shaking his masked head so that drops of salt water wept from the eye-holes. “It means that they’re not funding any crazy warlords.”

A long arc of water, rather like someone spitting, suddenly ejected itself from Wanderer’s bag. The Immortal had been uncharacteristically subdued throughout the whole underwater episode, but back on dry land he was reverting to his usual self.

“I don’t suppose you’re going to pull me out of here now?” his voice emanated from inside the bag. “For the record, hell is real and it smells like the inside of your travel bag. And that’s after I cast a rune to keep it dry in here.”

Katrina
01-25-2019, 11:00 AM
Red was torn between awe and fear. One hand curled gloved fingers into the sand, while the other hand clutched the leather book to her chest.

While the others made themselves known, she slowly leaned back onto her legs. The tide lapped at her boots and her knees buried deeper into the sand. She breathed softly, her eyes not quite focused on anything, and turned her chin down at the object she was clutching. As soon as it had been passed to her, she’d felt a crucial sense of importance weighing itself in her hands.

The book was not wet or damaged in any way. It looked like it had just been made. The corners were firm and pointed, and the edges were not frayed at all. She pulled it, moving still slowly, away from her chest, and grasped it with both hands. A perplexity she hadn’t felt in a while took her stomach to depths such as the ocean floor they’d just been to. She felt almost sick, yet giddy. What she was holding...absolute power. What had she done? What could she do with this?

Her mind jumped to the red mage. Imaginings of war came to mind immediately after the thought of her enemy. A sense of goodness, disgustingly compelling, ordered her lips apart and her tongue to move.
“Ambie. When we’re done with this book, take it back to your people. Don’t give it to anyone else.” She looked to Ambie to be sure she had heard. “I mean it! This thing can change the world! Don’t let anybody else have it. We find the levelers name and the red mages name, then it goes back under the water.”

Scottie
02-07-2019, 09:07 PM
Sand buried itself under her fingernails as cold water violently assaulted her skin. That wasn’t the exit she had been expecting. The moment of silence that she appeared to take was really her waiting for her stomach to catch up with the rest of her. It felt like it was firmly placed down by her feet. The weight of what had just happened finally hit her as her stomach settled back in its rightful place.

Agrona.

Those around her now knew her name. Not the fake one that she gave to them. Not the fake silly name that made her seem more mysterious than she actually was. They knew the name that was screeched in annoyance or whispered with a sickly sweet smile. They knew more about her than anyone else who met her outside those mines.

“Wanderer?” a voice asked in her native Ash.

The quiet question came from the Illusion. Or, as she now knew, Sage daughter of Scarlet. Strange - to know she had the power to render the other woman helpless at any moment. Mages who allowed others the simple intimacy of a name seldom lasted long. It was a hard habit to break, and perhaps that was why Illusion was still stiltedly calling her by her false name.

“Wanderer…” The copper-haired Lightwoman shuffled slightly closer, looking at Wanderer as if she expected her to explode if she got too close. “I...we…” She glanced at the others, still wringing out their clothes. “I never knew you had a son.”

Fingers slowly curled into fists, scooping sand into her palm. The gritty texture rubbed against her calloused palms. Son. She hadn’t realised they had been listening. She didn’t think any of them would care enough to listen.

“There is a lot you do not know about me.” she replied softly as she pushed herself to her feet. Water dribbled down her legs and she kicked lumps of sand free from the bottom of her shoes.

The Illusion chuckled a mirthless laugh that died almost before it had begun. “You’re right, I don’t. Is he why you’re...why you’re here, fighting the Leveler?”

Her folded arms and hesitant shifting from foot to foot told Wanderer that there was something personal in the question.

The woman was uneasy. It showed some weakness in the Illusion. “I started for money. I needed some to get far away from this shit hole.” She flicked her fingers at her feet to release some of the built up sand. “Then I saw them…..the Ashmen. In their hundreds upon thousands. Standing behind her. Kneeling behind her ideals. They were free...but had fallen under another false leader. She does not want their freedom, I know that much. She would not use them if she did. That is why I am here.”

Her gaze finally snapped to the Illusion, meeting her eye as she spoke. “To save my brethren.”


The Illusion went quiet. “I’m sorry to say it took me far too long to realise the same thing. I followed the Leveler through all the towns between Ash and the Estuary, watching her men force them all to submit...watching them kill those who didn’t.”

Her voice was hollow.

“It took me so long to see that now I have no brethren left to save. My mother was a Lightwoman, married to an Ashman...I thought that there could be the same harmony between the cities once the Leveler showed her strength...but I was a fool in that as well.” She shook her head, her tone hardening. “When my mother spoke out against the Leveler, my father killed her without a second thought.”

The Illusion clenched her fists, now visibly shaking with anger.

“And now I’m going to kill him.”

The muscles in her jaw tensed. Her teeth firmly set together as the woman spoke. It was difficult that someone she had travelled with...stood aside and watched innocents be slaughtered. There can never be harmony between the cities, the wanderer knew that much. Never could another city see a slave state as its equal when it bathed in the profits of that very slavery. A single raised eyebrow was all that the wanderer gifted the Illusion. She didn’t wish to give the woman any more information about herself than needed.

“Good.He deserves it” Her words blunt as they sliced through the silence that she left. “You will not find peace until you get the revenge you need.”

A sharp spout of water erupted from the faded fabric of her bag and pooled by her feet. The grumpy voice of the Loaf sounded, reminding all of them of his unfortunate presence. The Wanderer paused for a moment after his comments. Perhaps she could let her bag go drifting off into the water….never to be seen again.

With a deep guttural sigh, she dragged the head from her bag and fixed him with a glare of her own. “If you continue your complaining, I’ll keep you in there….as it dries….in the sun. Imagine hell…..when it’s hot.” She raised an eyebrow and waited for the egotistical and witty reply.

“That would be disconcerting.” the Immortal allowed. “And rather discourteous too. But I can approve of a mage with a mean streak even wider than her arse.”

She snorted softly. “Discourteous.” Had he not met her? Wider than her arse. That made her pause. “You haven’t even begun to see my mean streak…..and keep your eyes off my arse, Loaf.”

The Immortal pulled a thoughtful face. “If you want me off your arse level, you should probably keep me out of your bag.”

The wanderer softly shook her head, “Yes. For the mighty and powerful immortal can see through burlap...Keep your eyes off my arse…..Loaf.”

As she gave the Immortal a pointed look, the others started to slowly come to terms with their land legs once more. In the soft groans of pained limbs and gentle squishes of filled boots, the wanderer let her gaze drift over her companions. Tired green eyes settled on Red who had a tight grip on something….A book. Not any book...The book and it lay in the hands of the newcomer. The one who had only vengeance on her mind.

The Wanderer did not approve of this turn of events. She agreed with the woman on the need to keep the book safe. That it should be put back in the water instantly. It was who the Red one wanted to name that made the Wanderer uneasy.

“We asked for that book to get the Leveler’s name...not the red mage.” She let her words hang bluntly in the air as her gaze settled on the other Red Mage. “You don't even know his mage-name. So why…”

“I know his name.” The interruption was not an unfamiliar one. “Fucker wouldn’t stop saying it first time I fought him. It’s fucking…”

The Wanderer shot her hand up to Solar when he went to speak. “Stop. We did not ask for this book to solve petty squabbles.” Her gaze returned to Red. “We get the Leveler’s name and that is it. If you cannot fight this red mage with your powers now….then you are a coward if you think to destroy his powers and kill him as a weakling.”

The insult dried on her lips as she stared down the younger mage. “If we misuse this book, how are we any better than the Leveler? If we bring her down, her minions will fall as well.”

Katrina
02-10-2019, 05:06 AM
Upon hearing Wanderer’s objections to Red’s methods, she climbed to her feet and walked briskly towards the group. She clutched the book to her soaked chest again, and pulled down the wet scarf from over her mouth. “How is what I want to do to the red mage ANY different from what you want to do to the leveler?!” She yelled angrily.
Suddenly, she held up one gloved hand, open palm facing the Wanderer, and tilted her chin down. Her visible lips parted and drew and released a long breath.

“I am a hunter.” She thought. “Control... Control. Yourself. Anger will only get in the way. Arrogance will destroy the footholds of your own victory.”

After a few seconds of silence, she simultaneously lowered her hand and raised her head. When she spoke again, her voice was low and calm. Almost as if she were bored.

“One, I’m not a coward. And I have no desire to involve myself in your war. You can deal with the leveler however you like for your own reasons. I have my own concerns. I won’t get in your way if you don’t get in mine.” She hesitated noticeably, but eventually peeled the book away from her chest and held it out with one hand to the wanderer. She looked to Solar.

“And two-“ when she held up her free hand to indicate with two gloved fingers, a trickle of water streamed from her curled pinky down onto the sand. Red sighed exasperatedly, then carelessly dropped the book on the sand in front of Wanderer, clearly done with the troublesome thing. She ripped off her gloves and started wringing the water out. “Two. Solar. Wanderer. Ambie. And so on. I’ll call you all by your PREFERRED names if you call me by mine. Never mind this true-name bullshit. I’ll forget everything I just heard, with the expectation you do the same for me.” She pulled her damped gloves back onto her hands and unwound her scarf from her neck to wring it out next.
“And three. You.” She looked back to Solar. “The red mage. What is his mage name? Most importantly, why does he wear red? What does the color mean to him? Why the color red?”

Scottie
02-20-2019, 06:44 PM
The wanderer would not lie. The way the woman came rushing over to them with emotion obviously playing with her mind….well, she looked like a child throwing a tantrum. The wanderer blinked slowly, did this newcomer really not realise the difference between the Leveller and her supposed enemy of the Red mage. Anger rippled through the air and a hand was raised. The childish demeanour was quickly broken and she was reminded that this woman had power. Keeping the immortal tight in her left hand, her right hand gripped her faithful pickaxe. She raised the weapon to waist height and narrowed her eyes. “We are not your enemy.” She told the woman bluntly.

All humour and motherly sternness left her voice. The woman was near to attacking them...which made her a threat. The wanderer let her speak. It was obvious that Red needed to let off steam. The montoneness of her voice made the wanderer feel as if Red was talking down to her. Her axe did not sway from waist height the entire monologue. “Your concerns mean nothing.” She told this child. “You involved yourself in our war when you decided to prance into a battle that you had no place in.” The wanderer moved forward towards the one called Red, her annoyance clear over her features. “You did not know this Red man until you came upon us. You are just annoyed that he bested you.”

The book was held out to her but she ignored it. All trust in this woman had evaporated the moment she raised her hand to them. Her skin was taut over her knuckles as she remained prepared for any attack, even though the woman now looked….bored with them. The book was dropped to the ground as if it were nothing. She knew that would warrant a gasp from the Ambassador, this wasn’t a dusty old book...but a relic...something precious. “No.” She raised the Immortals head towards Solar, hoping that the disgruntled look of the loaf would interrupt the gob of the mouthy Solar. The questions she asked were so ridiculously childish that it hurt the wanderer to even contemplate what would force the woman to ask them. “You do not get this Red mage’s name. We are using this book for one name only. The Mer gave it to us for one name only. This is not a toy for you to use in your stupid quest for vengeance. The Leveller is tearing apart cities, she is destroying every we know….The Red mage bested you in a fight...Get over it.”

Her gaze dropped to the book now littered in small specks of sand. She let herself crouch and placed her axe to her side. The heavy iron sunk gracefully into the sand as the wanderer let her fingers slide around the dry material. Returning to standing, she let her eyes snap back to Red. “The difference is….We cannot defeat the Leveller...even if all of us worked together, she will still burn this land….Your Red mage...if he pains you so much...then I will help you defeat him…without knowing his name. Your strength means nothing when you make him but a weak child to vanquish.”

Azazeal849
02-20-2019, 09:05 PM
The group looked from Red to Wanderer, tensely. The Ambassador, for her part, was still staring open-mouthed at the shallow crater where her treasured Book of Names had been unceremoniously dropped into the sand.

“She makes a good point.” the Immortal piped up, seemingly siding with Wanderer. “But on the other hand, Naming your enemies is easy, and like I said I’m all for keeping things simple.”

“Then what are we waiting for?” Solar scowled. “Leveler or Redmoor or whoever else those pricks at the gate were, let’s just find out their names and send them down for crimes of passion, crimes of fashion and being a bunch of gods-damn miserable bitches.”

He snatched the book out of Wanderer’s hand and opened it at a random page. He paused.

“What?” he murmured, turning the page, and then another, leafing through the small tome with increasing frustration. “What the fuck is this writing?”

Illusion peered over his shoulder. “It looks a bit like Ash but...I’m sorry, I can’t read it.”

The Immortal huffed out an aggrieved breath. “Of for gods’ sake...let me see.”

Solar held up the small book. Red saw that it was as Illusion had said. Wanderer, who had never been taught to read but could recognise the jagged spikes of Ash script from documents she had seen around her master’s house, understood that the writing in the book was similar but not identical.

“Ah.” the Immortal said. “It’s Ancient Ash.”

“Book is old.” the Ambassador put in, unhelpfully. “Given many Landwalker lifetimes ago.”

“Great.” Solar huffed. He turned to the Immortal with folded arms. “Can you read it?”

The Immortal twisted his mouth, as if loath to confirm a failing. “No.” he admitted at last, “But I have a friend who can. Now give the lady back the book, you dolt. I would prefer someone halfway competent to-”

The Immortal broke off as a tan-skinned villager came shuffling down the beach towards them. He wore simple clothes and was carrying a clay jug in his arms. Illusion tugged the corner of Wanderer’s damp tunic until she too turned and registered the newcomer.

The villager halted when he got close enough to see the Ambassador’s black-in-black eyes. “So it’s true…” He jumped back, and began stammering a Light prayer.

“Can we help you?” Illusion asked to draw the man’s attention, her tone polite but guarded.

The villager hesitated for a moment, before rallying and holding out the jug by way of explanation. “I brought you wine.”

Solar narrowed his eyes. “Uh huh? Why?”

“Er, to drink mostly...” The villager trailed off lamely, still looking nervous. “Why are you so suspicious?”

Solar sniffed, and the others could tell that he was thinking of Davin’s recent betrayal. “Experience. Why are you here?”

“One of the Enlightened Ones.” the villager said, lowering his voice to a fearful whisper. “He appeared...he was hurt...he said a group of mages and a…”

The man glanced again at the Ambassador.

“And a Mer would be passing nearby. We told him about the runesigns from the mountains, but then I saw you all coming out of the sea...”

“Where is he?” the Wraith asked neutrally.

The villager glanced fearfully up at Wraith’s iron mask, then pointed back up the sand dunes towards the mudbrick buildings. Beneath an awning, a dark-skinned man had been made comfortable with cushions made from rolled blankets. He was broad-shouldered and clad in armour, but his slumped posture spoke of pain.

“That’s the Scorpion.” Illusion frowned. “What’s he doing here?”

“I like him.” the Ambassador opined. The Mer had spread her blue-pale arms and was swinging her upper body from side to side, apparently enjoying the sea breeze that was blowing her salty tunic dry. “Scorpion is like cold iron.”

“What,” the Immortal snarked, “Brittle and improved by beating?”

The villager dropped his jug, which landed with a thump in the coarse sand. His eyes bulged as they zeroed in on the talking severed head.

“Now look what you’ve done.” the Immortal said, with a sigh of frustration as he watched the wine spilling and sinking into the sand. “Go on, fuck off home. If I’m the worst thing you see today you’ll be lucky.”

The villager picked up his fallen wine jug and scurried away, leaving the group to trudge up the beach at their own pace. The Scorpion looked up wearily as they approached, but made no attempt to rise. His left arm was clamped around his body, holding a wound in his side that had been crudely dressed. Blood stained the linen, but it was clearly not the wound that had sapped him of his strength. Sweat glistened on his umber face as his eyes rolled slowly from the Ambassador to the mages accompanying her.

“Go away.” he rumbled weakly. “The Enlightened do not speak to plebs.”

Solar made an elaborate charade of looking left and right. “You’re the only Enlightened here.”

The Scorpion coughed, and cuffed away a line of blood that suddenly trickled from his nose. “Well then, it’s unanimous.”

“Talk to me then.” said the Immortal.

The Scorpion coughed again, and tipped back his head with what looked like a great effort. When he finally registered the head that Wanderer was cradling, his eyes widened almost as much as the villager’s had.

“Immortal?” he rasped thickly. “Shattered Gods! You’re a…”

“Yes I know!” the Immortal shouted, cutting off the end of the Scorpion’s sentence. “Did you really think I hadn’t noticed!?”

The Scorpion slumped back on his blankets with a creak of shifting armour, and let out what might have been a hoarse laugh. “That’s the good news, then.”

“Oh yes.” the Immortal agreed sarcastically. “Excellent.”

The Scorpion drew a rattling breath. “The bad news is, the Leveler’s army rolled over the Enlightened City while you were all messing around out here.”

“Oh.” the Immortal said, twisting his mouth as if the news was of little import. “Excrement.”

The group looked at each other. Solar and Illusion, both born in the Lightmen city, could not hide their consternation. “But…” Solar ventured, with rare seriousness. “My home…my family...”

“I can see that this is a scary time for you.” the Immortal intoned soberly. “So if you need moral support...please, please don’t come whinging to me.”

“Shut up!” Illusion shouted, shocking both herself and the Immortal into silence. Her hand drifted up to thumb her necklace. “How?” she asked at last.

The Scorpion was quiet for a few moments, as if reluctant to say.

“It was terrible.” he admitted eventually. “Half the army went over to her, but the faithful...they stayed.”

“What happened?” Illusion pressed, her hand still scrabbling for comfort in her pendant.

The Scorpion chuckled bitterly. “What usually happens when people armed with faith go up against people armed with spears.” He stared at the Mer accusingly. “You failed us, abomination. The Leveler can’t be stopped. She’s a bringer of death.”

“And yet you live.” the Immortal pointed out waspishly.

“What about the other Enlightened?” Wraith asked, his tone neutral.

“By now?” The Scorpion wheezed, and cuffed at his nose again. “Dead.”

“How did they die?”

The Scorpion let out a hacking cough. “Horribly, I assume.”


* * * * * *

The room held candles, idols, incense - all the alien trappings of a Light temple. The ritual oils lent the candle flames a sweet smell.

The gold-masked priests had all fled now, leaving the faithful to their fate. Many of the Lightmen had thrown down their weapons - and they had lived, just as her emissaries had promised. And many of them had clung to their gods and their masters - and they had died, just as always happened when lesser men opposed the Leveler.

The Leveler looked up at the godly statues, cast in silver and set upon plinths so that they surveyed the humble gallery. Most of them were the same gods venerated in her own Ash city - she recognised the River God, the Mountain God, the Elder and Younger brothers - only here they were adorned with strange symbols and attended by casts of the snakes and crabs that the Lightmen held sacred.

A scuffling sound drew her gaze downwards, between two of the statues. She saw a tiny figure squatting there, huddled back as if the shadows would protect her. And perhaps they had, at least from the first waves of Ashmen distracted by racing after the Lightmen’s fleeing mercenaries. The second wave, hunting for plunder now that resistance had crumbled, would be less likely to overlook the rich temple.

The street urchin had apparently not had the sense to flee towards the river or the city gates while she still had time. She looked up at the Leveler, pale eyes in a grubby face, turning a single worn coin over in her fingers.

The Leveler didn’t speak Light, so she hissed sharply, making a shooing gesture with her hand. It was sufficient to scare the child into taking to her feet and pattering off towards the open door. The Leveler exhaled down her nose, and paused for a moment until the child was lost to sight between the tightly-crammed mudbrick tenements. It was harsh perhaps, but safer for her.

There would be incidents. Rapes and murders. The city had held out for two days, throwing back the Leveler’s first three assaults and killing many of her soldiers, including the Dark Man and the Emerald. A besieging army was never merciful towards a city that had resisted it. So tomorrow there would have to be executions. The Lightmen would need to see that the new order was just.

Turning, the Leveler stepped out of the temple and back into the chaos of overturned carts and discarded weapons. She stalked through abandoned, blood-slick streets, her cloak fluttering behind her like a conqueror’s mantle. Ahead of her was the vast mustering plaza. Behind her was the clash of steel, the drifting smell of burning houses, and the first screams of a fallen city.

The only people who hadn’t yet accepted defeat were in the temple at the head of the plaza. Atop their great stepped pyramid, the Enlightened had barricaded their temple behind a shimmering blue wall. The marble steps in front of it glistened wetly, in spite of the midday heat. The Leveler recognised the Blue Lady’s runecraft in the ice-locked bodies scattered along the steps, frozen to the stone in contorted, broken shapes. She recognised the Tempest lying dead at the head of his spear company, blood-laced water spilling over his lips from his flooded lungs.

The Leveler heard bronze armour jangling in time to running footsteps, and turned to see her faithful Apprentice hurrying up with reinforcements. In the confines of the city streets, they had relinquished spears and drawn their short leaf-bladed swords, most of which were already stained red.

The Apprentice offered her a nod. She returned it before turning back towards the dead Ashmen littering the pyramid steps. “They still resist.”

The Apprentice knew the look on her face. “The battle’s over, my lady. They must know that. Let me negotiate for you.”

The Leveler pursed her lips. “They might just kill you.”

“Better that than they kill you.”

He was willing to die for her. It was touching. The Leveler squeezed her acolyte’s shoulder. “They won’t yield. You trusted me to fight the Immortal alone. Trust me again now.”

As the Leveler ascended the pyramid, past the bodies of her advance guard, she saw a thin snake - bright green against the marble. It slithered down the steps and disappeared between the cracked stones. She wondered if it was a good omen, or a bad one.

A thick wall of ice barred entrance to the temple at the top, and the runecraft used to summon it rang a steady, high-pitched tone in the Leveler’s ears as she approached. She mustered her own magic, and called forth a bolt of blinding force that shattered the barricade into icy splinters. The temple beyond was dim and firelit, and the concentration of magic within thrummed through her nerves like a painful current.

Crossbow-bolts of solid ice began to hiss out of the dark.

Hello, Blue Lady.

The Leveler swept the frozen missiles aside with a glance and pushed out her hand, forming a fist before jerking it to the side. The blue-clad figure barring her path was swept up and thrown violently into one of the pillars supporting the temple roof. A misshapen figure in a brown robe blurted a cry and ran after her. The Leveler ignored him. The Hunchback was a healer, she had been told, not a fighter; and a coward besides.

She pushed forward into the temple of the Enlightened. The air was thick with incense and the teeth-itching buzz of runecraft. The Leveler’s foot caught an urn standing by the door as she swept by, but the scattered contents as it bowled across the floor revealed only seeds. Seeds? She would never understand the Lightmen and their mind-numbing rituals. Ahead of her was a shallow pool, tiled in mosaic and strewn with bobbing flower petals. Fat priests in white shawls and snake-patterned masks were scattering in all directions, tripping over themselves as they tried to flee. But where were…?

“There you are, Leveler.” croaked a voice in harshly-accented Ash. “I’ve been waiting so long I think my hymen’s grown back.”

The Leveler wheeled round in time to see the Crone with oily tendrils coiling from the air in front of her; thick, tarry ropes of glistening black. The Leveler had thought she was familiar with all runes in the Valley. I guess I was wrong. The tendrils met her countering wards with unpleasant force, splattering across the floor as they tried to lash a way past. A wave of cold needled the Leveler’s skin as she drove them back, raising painful goosebumps on her arms.

The Scorpion was on her right, conjuring black needles that hissed venomously as she deflected them across the floor. The Leveler gritted her teeth against the pressure beginning to build behind her eyes, and flung out a scything bolt that caught the Scorpion across the side. The mage reeled, spun half round by the impact, and droplets of blood spattered across the floor. The Leveler saw him clutch at the wound, look down at his bloody palm, and then up at her. For a moment she saw the fear in his eyes, but then the Scorpion was gone, vanished in a thunderclap of imploding air. Past the ringing in her ears she heard the Crone screeching in Light, no doubt cursing her vanished ally for a traitor.

The Leveler felt the air around her begin to sizzle. With a last effort she hauled herself round and willed out a lance of fiery light that met the black one streaming from the Crone’s fingertips. The two beams clawed and locked around each other, throwing out a corona of sparks as they whiplashed back and forth. The pool in the middle of the temple began to boil, and braziers hit by the discharge toppled, scattering smoke and red-hot coals. Bands of static lightning pulsed through the murk as the two witches duelled. The Leveler could feel the bones in her hands beginning to burn, sending molten wires of pain singing up her arms. The Crone was worse; the Leveler could see blood seeping from her nose, eyes and ears as the Leveler’s beam began to push her own inexorably back.

“Hunchback!” the withered old woman screamed, “Get over here!”

“What’s happening?” the other mage rasped, almost unintelligible as he coughed on the battle-smoke.

The Crone choked, and retched blood to paint her face red from the lips down. “I’m DYING, you eternal pain in my ass!”

The Leveler heard the Hunchback’s footsteps beating against the tiled floor. She didn’t turn around. Instead, she glanced to her left, focusing on one of the overturned braziers. With a tug of will she seized the fire clawing out of it; shaped it; cast it across the room. A dragon’s breath of heat washed over her back and she heard the Hunchback cry out, his howl rising to an obscenely high pitch before abruptly falling silent.

The fire hissed like an angry crocodile, and the duelling light-beams continued to crack and boom as she forced the Crone back. The Leveler could taste iron on her tongue, but she was smiling. Then a new sound registered over the thunder and the spitting flames - a dry, rustling hiss.

Like thorns being dragged across stone.

Seeds. Leveler remembered, too late. The Rose. Her stomach dropped into a pit of cold dread.

She spun round, far too slow, in time to see the vines slithering across the floor towards her. They reared up like striking cobras, lashing around her wrist and elbow as she raised an arm to redirect her wards. The vines flexed with impossible strength, and the Leveler heard a visceral crunch. She had a bewildering moment to register the sight of her elbow bent outwards at an impossible angle, before the pain came roaring up her arm. The shriek that left her mouth didn’t sound like her own - it was too raw; too terrified.

The pain of the break was nothing compared to what followed as the vines twisted, almost languidly, and separated her forearm from her upper with a sound like someone prying a melon apart with their fingers. The Leveler found herself on her back without any memory of having fallen, staring with horrified fascination at the squirting stump of her right arm.

The Crone limped into her tilted field of view, wiping away the blood from her leaking eyes, It had run into the crinkled lines of her face, turning her aspect from aged to monstrous. Her necklace of runestones glinted in the firelight, the scraped symbols upon them wriggling as if alive. The Rose was behind her, dressed all in black, with fire glinting in her eyes.

“So,” the Lightwoman snarled in her butchered Ash. “The mighty Leveler. How many times do you have to hear FUCK OFF before you do what's good for you?”

Behind the shock; behind the blinding, searing pain; something else stirred. It radiated from just above her navel, thrumming up her spine and dragging a single, clear thought to the front of her mind.

Moonstone.

The Leveler took the shock and the pain from her bleeding arm, and crushed it into a diamond-hard spear that she flung towards the gloating Crone with all her willpower. The Crone was snatched up and back, hurled against the far wall with bone-breaking force. The necklace looped around the Crone’s skinny neck snapped, bursting the runestones across the floor in a rattling scatter.

The Leveler rose slowly but steadily to her feet, her gaze a dagger pointed towards the one Enlightened still standing.

“You owe me an arm.” she told the Rose coldly.

The green-weaver mage didn’t reply, her mouth trembling in silent denial. Her eyes were fixed on the stump of the Leveler’s arm as snapped bones and ligaments stretched downward, knitting over with flesh, finally sheathing themselves in pale skin.

The Leveler flexed her regrown fingers, and took a step forward. The vines and thorns that the Rose belatedly tried to conjure in her defence withered black and crumbled at a glance from the other mage.

“I know what you’re thinking.” Leveler told the Rose as she stepped closer. “Where are your gods now?”

She smiled the sweetest knife of a smile.

“Perhaps they’re standing right in front of you.”

The smile twisted and distended, and the Leveler’s armour and cloak slipped from her shoulders as she began to slither up and out through her collar. Fangs the length of knives ripped into flesh and ground against bone as she snapped her mouth closed around the Rose’s shoulder. The weight of her thrashing body bore the smaller mage to the ground but she held on, feeling the blood spurt hot and sickening against her palate, until the Rose’s struggles had subsided to weak spasms, and her screams were just the bubbling of foam between slack lips.

The Leveler rose, feeling her flesh crawl and run like molten wax once again, and stretched out her arms and legs as they reformed. She found herself standing in a broken and burning temple, surrounded by bodies and clothed only in sheets of blood. She cradled her bare stomach, feeling the hard bump of the moonstone set into her skin.

“My lady!” The familiar tongue and accent of a loyal Ashman was reassuring as the soldier ran up and swept a cloak around her blood-sticky shoulders to cover her.

The Leveler turned her head, and saw her Apprentice and his spear company rushing into the temple. How much of the battle did they see? she wondered as she pulled the cloak closed around her breasts, and moved to join them. They saw enough, she surmised - many of them were staring in wonder at her right arm, and reaching out to brush their fingers against it as she passed.

“Are you alright, my lady?” the Apprentice asked, with concern in his young eyes as he fell in beside her.

“Fine.” the Leveler reassured him. It was a lie. She couldn’t feel any of the hands brushing against her new arm. “Someone go find the Hole.” She pointed the nerveless limb at the blood her cowardly nemesis had splashed across the floor. “And tell her to get after the Scorpion if she’d be so kind.”

A spearman saluted and hurried out of the temple. The Apprentice looked pensive as his eyes fell upon the Rose’s savaged body.

“Did she have to die, my lady? She was cowed.”

“She was a slaver.” the Leveler answered, sparing the corpse a glance as she wiped the Rose’s blood from her lips. “She just used chains of faith instead of iron.”

She surveyed the floor. It was fouled with dull-glowing coals and reflective pools of blood, but the fallen runestones outshone them, instinctively drawing the eye. She recognised all but one of them: a jagged and tar-black stone that had rolled away from the Crone’s broken necklace. The Leveler stooped beside it and picked it up.

Ah, she thought, shivering as the power of the new rune surged through her. So that’s how it works.

The Apprentice held out his hand. “Spare those two at least, my lady.”

The Leveler followed his pointing arm, and smiled as she saw the blue-clad figure dragging herself painfully across the floor, towards the weakly-stirring body of the Crone. She drew away from her Apprentice and padded over to the Crone and the Blue Lady.

“Now what do I do with you?” she mused aloud. “You’re far too powerful to risk imprisoning, and as long as you have your runes and your priests you’re a threat to stability here.”

The Blue Lady wheezed, spitting a mist of blood onto the tiled floor. “We are the stability here. The city will never accept you.”

“Half of them already have.” the Leveler countered, to which the Blue Lady had no answer but silence. “I will make you an offer. I will let you live, and even let you carry on tending to the spiritual needs of your people, on one condition. You give me, and your subjects, your true names.”

The Blue Lady opened her mouth to speak, but could not find the words. The Crone too said nothing, but her dark eyes spoke blood.

The Leveler reached out, and ribbons of shadow slithered along the walls, the Crone’s own spell now closing inky fingers around her skinny neck.

“Well?” she pressed.

The Crone sighed in defeat. “Ifa.” she mumbled. Her lined cheeks drew back into a sneer. “Daughter of fuck you.”

The Leveler exhaled a huff. “Alright then.”

She twisted her hand, and there was an audible snap. The glistening black tendrils evaporated, and the Crone’s body slumped lifeless to the floor.

She turned to the Blue Lady. “What about you?”


+ + + + + +

The Scorpion raised his head from his gnarled hands. “And where the fuck have you been, while the faithful bled and died?”

“Under the sea,” the Immortal answered. “Talking to the most annoying and boring bunch of Mer since…” He rolled his eyes towards the Ambassador. “Well, since that one. But we did bring something back.”

“It had better be good.”

“Oh I’d say so.” the Immortal grinned. “The one magical thing that someone voluntarily threw into the sea before my old friends in the Seekers did it for him.”

“You were a Seeker?” Illusion broke in, perhaps remembering their dead comrade Raven and how flippantly the Immortal had treated his death.

“Once.” the Immortal admitted, flicking his eyebrows. “I found the dogmatic aspects tiresome.”

The Ambassador shook her head, making a tutting sound. “Landwalkers, make religion out of anything. Mer tell you runes are dangerous, you make prophecy and base secret cults around it.”

“Shut up, fish!” the Scorpion snarled. He sat up, suddenly animated. “Immortal...are you saying they gave you the Book?”

The Immortal smiled a half-moon smile. "Yes. Go on Wanderer, show him."

The Scorpion weakly raised his hand, and immediately drew it back, as if stung by the magical power he could sense emanating from the innocuous little book that the Wanderer was holding up.

“The legends say you just have to picture your foe…” the Scorpion whispered. “And the book will open at the right...what is this?”

He was staring at the long lists of spiralling ink on the open pages, evidently no more conversant than Red and the others had been.

“Ancient Ash.” the Immortal grinned, clearly enjoying being the one to explain things to the cast-down Enlightened. “I happen to know someone who speaks it, but he’s in the City of the Risen God.”

“A Riseman?” the Scorpion snapped. He dissolved into hacking coughs, and had to steady himself against the ground before he could continue. “They’re - kaf! - blasphemers and iconoclasts, all of them! They spit on all gods but their own!”

“He’s also the only person I know who can read Ancient Ash.” The Immortal raised an eyebrow. “I doubt many of you Lightmen can. Unless you want to go and ask the Leveler nicely if you can run the text by one the more scholarly slaves in her army?”

The Scorpion gritted his teeth, which were pink with leaked blood. “You overstep, heretic.”

The Immortal twisted his cheek in a lopsided smile. “Many times every day, but not in this.”

The Scorpion seethed quietly for several seconds. “Oh, shattered gods forgive me...if you really must get to that city of heretics, then go to the man who brought you wine. Tell him it is the will of the Enlightened that he give you horses and food to carry you to the Risemen city.”

“My home,” Solar said, visibly trembling, “Is that way.”

“Then ride quickly.” the Scorpion urged, and coughed again. “And one more thing. Urgh...in case the Leveler does catch up with you...take this.”

He reached inside a pouch at his belt, and drew out a runestone, crazed with pale swirls that glimmered in the sunlight.

“May the thoughts of the gods pass to you through their shards.” the Scorpion intoned. “Take it, damn you. Before I remember that the gods would weep at sharing their secrets with ruffians like you.”

A spark jumped through each of them as they touched the stone, tracing fire up their arms in patterns that they, suddenly, simply understood. How to walk as the Enlightened said the gods had walked. How to put one foot forward in this place and have it meet the earth again in another, several miles away. But they also knew what it would cost them: at best they would be weakened and disoriented, at worst they would be helpless for several hours afterward - drained and wracked with pain, as the Scorpion was now.

Illusion meant to pass the tiny stone on to the Ambassador, but the Mer shrank back.

“Not her.” the Scorpion growled, and looked up at the Ambassador with a blood-laced sneer. “You Mer hate runes, don’t you? Not that I would let you touch one of mine anyway.”

“Forgive?” the Mer asked in imperfect Light, cocking her head as if expecting an explanation.

The Scorpion just gritted his teeth. “When you accept the godly origin of the runestones, then I will forgive you, abomination.”

“We’re wasting time.” Wraith said flatly. “Let us gather what we need and go.”

Ten minutes later they were on the road, riding northwest towards the River and its joining Tributary that flowed all the way back to the City of the Risen God. Once they crossed the River, it would be six days ride.

Katrina
02-21-2019, 06:27 AM
Red tuned her ears to the tree’s they were slowly passing, remembering many times in her past travels when bandits would leap out of the foliage like rabbits escaping a cat. They were always sure, based on their numbers. Quickly, they would cut off the path, and think they had their prey trapped. They never expected to corner someone who could take them all down.

She looked ahead, feeling an undesirable pang of curiosity for the one called Solar. She also felt a lasting annoyance with the Wanderer. “That woman thinks she knows me.” Red figured silently. She looked from one to the other, back and forth, then made her decision.

“Solar.” She called ahead to his horse.

Azazeal849
02-21-2019, 10:49 AM
The dirt road they were following curved gently north, clinging to the bend of the river. The dry ground was deeply furrowed by wagon tracks where the Leveler’s army had passed only days previously. Camphor and damar trees grew close to the road and provided some welcome shade, though they had already passed one area where a wide swathe had been cut back to make space for a march camp.

“Look at that.” Solar murmured as they came upon the remains of a wooden bridge, dismantled and swept aside to make way for the Leveler’s war galleys. On the far bank was an abandoned farmstead; half of its rice paddies had been stripped by the advancing army, and the unripe stalks of the rest stood forlorn and untended.

“Where are we going to cross?” Illusion wondered aloud. They were riding in a loose column, with herself up front and Wanderer at the rear, as if the other woman didn’t trust Red enough to show her back to her. The two men rode in the centre, and Red to the rear of them with the Ambassador riding sidesaddle behind her, clinging tightly to her cloak. The aquatic Mer was very clearly hating the unfamiliar riding experience, though the others weren’t much better. As a former courier, Solar had the advantage of knowing his way around a horse, but the rest of them rode awkwardly. The animals themselves were slow, steady dray horses rather than swift messengers, which helped, but the insides of Illusion’s thighs were already beginning to sting from the ride.

“I remember there being a ferry a bit further upriver.” said the Wraith, impassive behind his iron mask. “But if the Ashmen destroyed that too then we’ll need another ice bridge.”

“Speak for yourself.” Solar muttered, digging the heel of his hand into his damaged eye. “My head still hurts from keeping up that bubble rune. Or maybe it was just those gods-damn Mer.”

“Do you wish to avenge your home or not?” Wraith asked, bluntly.

For a moment, Solar looked like he was about to strike him.

“Solar.” Red suddenly called ahead, heading off the argument. Solar glared at Wraith for a moment, then slowed his horse to fall behind the others. The Immortal, who had allowed himself to be settled awkwardly in the saddle blankets in front of Wanderer, cocked an eyebrow at her in response to the exchange.

“What?” Solar asked Red, a little sharply, as her horse drew level and he eased his own back into a trot.

Katrina
02-22-2019, 12:55 PM
Red’s scarf was hanging loosely over her shoulders, not wrapped even once around her neck. Her lips were bare, with her face only covered down to the bridge of her nose by her hood. It was the most of her face the group had seen. Her cloak was splayed wide open, showing the identically colored dress that hugged her plump bosom, long arms, her thin waist and hips, then released her thighs and legs for movement. The wind and warmth of the day graced patches of damp cloth strewn around her cloak and dress. Her brown sturdy boots had dried, and her gloves she had stashed in some unseen pockets on her dress. Bare hands, slender fingers, and clean nails gripped the reins to her horse. The hilt of the thin sword on her left hip appeared ready to be drawn at the slightest sign of trouble. Now that her cloak was open wide enough, several brown leather bags, all small enough to fit in ones palm, hung visibly from the inside of her cloak. Corresponding loops had been sewn onto her cloak and the bags, so they hung sturdily from the thick cloth. What couldn’t be seen was the short blade hidden in a tight sheath under her dress strapped just above the high reach of her right boot. And the contents of those various bags were impossible to identify without opening them. Though she was less covered, the Red woman was still a mystery.

Red looked into Solars eyes from behind her hood. She heard the snap in his tone, but decided without much thought not to withdraw. “I can get us across the river. Right now. It’ll save time, so you can get back to your family. And avoid using an ‘ice bridge.’” She trailed off, trying not to wonder what the hell they were referring to.

“But I’ll only do it if you answer a few questions first. Every single one, honestly. Will you make this deal?”

Family. What a funny prospect. Since she had seen the look of terror on Solars face at the mention of his home in danger, she was unable to stop herself from thinking back to her own “family.” She had been wondering since they climbed onto their horses, what family meant to this man. And the memories of her own experiences, the resulting choices, bluntly shoved their way into her thoughts at the mention of the word.

***

Her mother's hand outstretched, bloodied, trembling, shielding herself. The silent night, injected with the plopping of droplets from a red glistening dagger.
“Please...don’t…”
Her mother’s breathless plea’s were a reflection to her daughters.
Alana looked at this mother of hers, crumpled, defeated, on the floor, against a wall.
Absorbing the image before her, all she saw was the submission of a creature. A creature that previously thought itself dominant. How many times had Alana raised her hand in this same manner, shielded her face, crumpled and begged and pleaded while the blows kept coming.

The belt, the iron, the fist, the branch, the whip.

How many times were her objections and questions whipped from her tongue? How many times did she say the words planted in her gums and grown in her cheeks. The flowers that bloomed in her voice after years of picking and shaping; and poisoning the unwanted pests? Disposing of anything unwanted was all part of the process, until her parents finally created the beauty they wanted in their daughters words. She did and said what they wanted, to avoid any more punishment. But deep inside, weeds were festering, pushing poison into her mind. With every cringe and cry and whipping and beating, the rot spread. Until it had nowhere to go. Until the stranger showed up, and gave her an option she thought had been plucked from her foliage long ago.

How peculiar, the urge to hold a hand up, as if the flesh could stop the blade. So pointless.

The man who was her father had just breathed his last breath, and was lying lifeless on the wood floor next to her mother. Her mother...pleading, shaking, dying. Alana saw her mother’s life draining into a dark puddle on the floor. She heard it trickling through the floorboards onto the dirt beneath the cottage, and watched, and waited, for the last of her mother’s life to separate itself from flesh.

When her mother’s hand finally dropped and her body released its final breath, Alana looked at the dagger in her own hand. She realized immediately that the stranger was right. The rot inside her had settled. It wasn’t a fuming pile of poison anymore, but a part of her blood and the core of her life. With every plunge of the dagger, the rot became increasingly settled. And the parts of her that couldn’t settle were released with the release of life from those who created the unsettlement in the first place.

***

Red blinked herself back into Solars presence. Had he spoken? She hadn’t meant to think about that memory in this very moment. She hadn’t meant to lose herself like that. She hadn’t meant to lose touch with her current reality, but couldn’t seem to force the habit of disconnecting when she was around people. She stared at Solar.

Azazeal849
02-25-2019, 11:39 AM
“I said,” Solar repeated, looking at her strangely from beneath his mop of red hair. “What about a compromise?”

He glanced at the Ambassador, who was still clinging to Red’s waist to avoid slipping from the horse’s back.

“Ambie says you’re not planning to fuck us over. Great. But we still know as little about you as you do about us. So how about this.”

The young mage raised a hand to brush a low-hanging branch out of his way as his horse trotted past.

“We’ll take your offer. And we’ll answer your questions - any questions you like. But for every one you ask us, we get to ask you one in turn. Deal?”

He fixed Red with a neutral stare. At the back of the column, the Immortal looked up from Wanderer’s saddle blankets and raised his other eyebrow.

“Maybe he’s not a complete idiot after all?” he murmured, too low for any but Wanderer to hear.

“You go first.” Solar prompted Red, as the two unlikely allies rode on ahead of Wanderer.

Katrina
02-26-2019, 09:18 AM
Red nodded slowly, carrying her gaze to the wide river. “Agreed.” She matched Solar’s speed, her first question intended for him, but spoke loud enough for the whole group to hear. “How you answer these first few questions will determine whether or not I use my ability to get us across this river. IF I do decide to help, I must ask that you keep my ability between us. So...” she turned her gaze to Solar, and focused intently on his face from under her hood. Her lips gave each word concisely, and without hesitation. “Do you love your family?”

Azazeal849
02-26-2019, 11:35 AM
“If I do decide to help, I must ask that you keep my ability between us.”

Solar looked at her as if she was the world’s hardest puzzle.

“So…” She turned her gaze to him, and focused intently on his face from under her hood. Her lips gave each word concisely, and without hesitation. “Do you love your family?”

Solar’s expression didn’t change. The puzzle on her face was apparently a real bitch.

“Of course I do.” the young man replied hotly. “What kind of a stupid question is that?”

He twisted his mouth, sighing.

“I suppose you want a more detailed answer than that, huh?” He exhaled a second slow breath, and let his horse pick its own way along the track as he considered his response. “My parents were workers, on a farm a bit like that one.”

He pointed across the river to the abandoned homestead.

“Me and my little brother used to help them out as soon as we were old enough. One day I was digging out an old well and I found these.” He patted the small rune-pouch hanging from his belt. “I guess some mage must have buried them there for safekeeping - more fool them. Well, now that I could defend myself without an escort, I thought I could make better money running messages between the big cities - help support the family, y’know?”

The young mage looked uncharacteristically grim.

“Yes I was away for weeks and months at a time but I never forgot about them! And as soon as I heard the Leveler was moving south with an army, I figured they’d run for the safety of the city walls. I headed back as fast as I could, so I could fight. I didn’t get a chance to see them before the bastards attacked.”

Solar shook his head.

“I thought getting this Book would be the best way to help them...but now that pompous ass Scorpion says the city fell while we were fucking around out here with the Mer - no offence, Ambie…” He cast a less than apologetic glance at the Mer sitting behind Red. “It’s difficult. It’s really fucking difficult to ride the other way in the hope that this friend of the Immortal can give us what we need to take down the Leveler. I don’t know if my parents and my little brother are alive or dead, I can’t help thinking what if I’d stayed in the city to help there instead…”

He sniffed, still scowling. His posture was rigid, fists clenched.

“Yes, Red, I love my family. And if they got hurt when the city fell, I’m not just going to take the Leveler’s name, I’m going to rip out her fucking eyes.”

Slowly, Solar unclenched his fists and pushed his red hair out of his eyes.

“Your turn. Where do you come from?”

Katrina
02-27-2019, 04:51 AM
She let her horse lead, while watching Solar intently. She listened to every word and eyed every motion, looking for the tiniest chance at probable suspicion. She couldn’t find a single one. She felt only truth emanating from his words. When he finished, she held his gaze, searching for one last chance for him to falter, to blink or twitch or purse his lips, but again found nothing but truth.
She let her silence hang there between them, then filled it with a slow breath in, and a slow breath out.

“He’s absolutely normal.” She thought. The idea perplexed her, that this man had a normal happy family. That ANYone had a normal family. She couldn’t imagine what that was like. No matter how hard she had ever tried.

Red reached behind her and pulled Ambie’s entire arm across her own stomach. “Like this Ambie, hold onto me tightly, I’ll keep you balanced.” She advised, thinking about Solar’s question. “Just go with the sway of the horses trot, and hold onto me. And don’t be afraid him, horses are wise. As long as you don’t walk behind one, they won’t hurt you.”

She kept their hands touching, deliberately allowing the Mer to see Red’s truth as she spoke it to Solar. “I was born in The Light City. The exact same city the Leveler just destroyed. I was raised there, my parents died there, as did the child I once was. That place is where I met the man who guided me onto the path I’m on today.” She paused, considering how much information Solar had offered her. She reminded herself, ‘an even exchange of information.’

“I was going back to the city after a job, when I was offered another one on the way. I suppose if it weren’t for that, I would’ve reached the city in time and been inside the walls when the Leveler attacked. I’m not sure if I’m grateful for that or not. I was-“ she stopped, looked at Solar, then at the river. “I was looking for someone, and I’m...I guess one would call it hoping. I’m hoping...he’s...alive.” She swallowed, nauseated at the honesty she was offering these people. “I’m sure he is.” She added quickly. “He won’t be killed so easily.”
She swallowed again, aiming to collect herself. “Why are you called Solar? Is it just because of your hair or is there some sentimental story to it?”
She watched the river, pulling her horse to a steady halt. She slipped Ambie’s hand off of her stomach, then slid off the saddle. She faced the river, breathing herself to calmness.

Azazeal849
02-27-2019, 11:03 AM
Solar reined in his own mount, while ahead of them Wraith and Illusion did the same.

“They call me Solar because I say what I think.” the young mage answered, holding his chin high.

“Meaning they think he’s a hot-headed idiot.” the Immortal translated from the back of the column.

“Hey.” the Illusion interjected, coming unexpectedly to Solar’s defence. “He took a spear for me this morning.”

Solar’s hand went to his stomach, rubbing the red fabric that was still holed where the Ashman spear had passed through. “Something I’d rather not do again, to be fair.”

“Like I said.” the Immortal grunted, as if the exchange proved his point. “Idiot. Only idiots catch spears with their bellies.”

Solar scowled, and cleared his throat. “Next question.” He looked at Red, who was still gazing out across the water. “What do you do, exactly? I assume you don’t just hike around the Valley picking fights with mages who wear the same colour as you.”

Scottie
02-27-2019, 07:04 PM
Fingertips were burning into her skull as she pressed her palms over her face. It was like dealing with a haggle of children. From the petulant Immortal to the loudmouthed Solar and the nuisance of Red. She had placed her head in her hands to think. To try and block them out. The suggestions that came bombarding in from walking further on a memory or forcing Solar to strain himself in making an ice bridge. Then came the game.

‘I want you to answer my questions” “Well I wanna ask questions to.” It sounded like a children’s game. A deep sigh tore through her body, forcing her ribs to press against her dry skin.

“Maybe he’s not a complete idiot after all?”

The smallest of smirks tugged on to her lips as she replied. “Give it time.” It was the speech given by Red that sparked her attention. The woman wanted something...more than answers, she wanted something else. It felt very...dickish of the woman to tell them she could help but ONLY if they answered correctly. Her hands settled back on the horses reins. It had scared her at first, she worked near animals but was never given the privilege to touch them let alone ride them. The animal beneath her seemed kind though stubborn in its opinion on the water beside them.

On some scrappy colourful material lay the Immortal. He had demanded to be up front, wanting to see everything first “For I am the Immortal. That is all the reason I need...Mush” That response nearly had him tumbling from the horse but she held back. They needed him where they were heading and she hated to admit it….but she liked him. His company was pleasant in this group even if it merely consisted of sarcasm and egotistical comments.

“Me and my little brother used to help them out as soon as we were old enough.” It was strange to hear Solar talk of his past. It made him seem more human. As if there was more to him than his loud mouth comments. She listened in silence, her cracked lips remained in a thin line. Not a single flicker of emotion crossed her face. His final statement had her gaze snapped to him. He hated the Leveller, good. They needed hate and passion but also a rational mind. Solar at least knew when to stop….after being told. The Wanderer did not know that the others would know where the line is.

Solars question to Red hadn’t been what she expected nor wanted. The Light City. Intriguing. The Wanderer sucked in the information like the crabbit sponge that she was. It was noted the emotion that Red displayed when talking about a "he" but she did not press on it. The Wanderer was certain she knew the answer to Red’s second question but she waited to hear the response. The response was childlike and the wanderer couldn’t help herself from letting out a short harsh snort of laughter. The Immortals response only had her chuckling softly. It was true, yes Solar had aided Illusion in the fight. Saving her really. But the idea that Solar was called Solar...because he said what he likes….it was too much really.

“What do you do, exactly? I assume you don’t just hike around the Valley picking fights with mages who wear the same colour as you.” Her eyes lit up with that question. The mentioning of a job had sparked her curiosity and now the wanderer wanted to know what sort of employment a person like Red could truly be in. “Yes.” She let her voice carry to the front of the group as they pulled in before the river. “What do you do?” Dull green eyes latched onto Red as the question lingered in the air as her horse trotted leisurely up behind the others.

Katrina
02-28-2019, 03:50 AM
Red clenched and unclenched her fist, preparing muscles for the pain she was about to endure. She knew this would be a large room she would be casting. Still, she expected the pain to be delicious.

She spoke over her shoulder. “No. I do not HIKE across the valley, I TRAVEL. For work. And I did NOT pick a fight with Redmoor,” she corrected, recalling how Solar had absentmindedly spoken the red-mages name earlier to the man on the porch. Maybe he was an idiot? “I was watching his fight in the caves. He attacked me first. I was merely watching from a distance and he pulled me off a rock ledge. So yes, I’d like to finish what he started. I never let go of my foe. NEVER. It’s what I was taught.”

She took a deep and audible breath, despite the volume of the tumbling water in front of her. She lifted her right hand, palm towards the sky, and spoke clearly.

“Room.”

A translucent orb appeared in her palm, not touching her skin, but holding itself in the air just above her hand. She curled her fingers inward, then out again rapidly. The orb expanded in a blind second, enveloping everyone. She targeted the pebbles lining the water on the other side of the river.

Red snapped her fingers once. The sound of wind surrounded them all, and the ground swayed beneath them as they were moved to the bank on the other side, and the pebbles she switched them with dropped in their places. As soon as they clattered on the opposite side, the dome encasing them shrunk as quickly as it had grown. Red gripped her right hand, her breath shuddering. The horses seemed startled, so she quickly calmed hers before it had a chance to kick Ambie off.

“Shhhh. Hush now wise one,” she muttered. “It’s fine, you’re fine. Hushhhh.”

She spoke as she climbed back into the saddle. “As for what I DO, I don’t expect any of you to believe me.” She briefly lifted her head towards Wanderer. “Still, out of respect for the deal we’ve made,” she turned her focus back to Solar, finding him the easiest to speak to. “I’ll uphold honesty.” She then scanned slowly, looking at each one of the members of the group, recognizing their uniqueness. Every one of them was different. Perhaps they’d understand. She made note of the masked man, wondering if he would understand more than any of them.

“The enlightened make use of us, but we do not work FOR them. We accept tasks from them, but owe no allegiance to them. We take jobs from anyone who can give us what we need, which isn’t always money by the way. Just as most fighters have a characteristic that pertains to their name, or the other way around, I am a specific type of fighter. Some have referred to us as ‘Assassins,’ which we don’t agree with. We do assassinate, but we do other things to. Others have called us ‘the hidden ones.’ A bit more creative I’d say. We call ourselves Hunters. Though the Enlightened just call us a ‘gang.’” She spoke the last sentence shortly, almost like it was an insult.
“Just as the archer works with the bow and arrow, the spearman with the spear, and so on, we Hunters work with stealth. When stealth cannot be used, we are trained to approach the situation with secrecy, hence hiding my face. My mentor taught me to be swift, precise, brutal, but hidden. And it wouldn’t surprise me if you have no idea what people I’m talking about. That is kind of the point, to stay hidden. I was on a job when the leveler-“ She pursed her lips, realizing she had given enough information. The pain from rune usage was truly unique compared to anything else. It was making her babble.
She dropped her head and gasped, tightly clutching her right arm as the pain persisted it’s way through her response. It was sharp, carving its way through her flesh and bones and nerves, all the way up to her shoulder. It even dipped into the muscles in her neck.
“Solar.” She grunted his name, and forced out her responding question as if nothing was happening to her. “Do you have any flame runes? For some reason,” she lifted her head and exhaled to calm herself again. She almost sounded like she might be trying to be sarcastic, but like it wasn’t quite coming out that way. “I’ve got this image of you in my head, wielding a flaming sword. So, flame runes? Yay or nay?”

Azazeal849
03-03-2019, 10:39 PM
The bubble surrounding them collapsed with a pop of air, leaving Solar rubbing his ear with the heel of one hand and Illusion working her jaw.

“That’s quite a trick.” Solar admitted as he struggled to control his horse. All the animals had been startled by their sudden translocation to the far bank of the mighty River. They tossed their heads and edged round in stationary circles, ears pricked back.

Red spoke as she climbed back into the saddle. “As for what I DO, I don’t expect any of you to believe me.”



“We call ourselves Hunters.”

“Hunters.” Wraith repeated, chewing on the name and clearly recognising it. “Yes, I know of them. The Enlightened’s secret police within their city.”

“My dad always said they were just a bunch of thugs they tolerated because they kept the other gangs down.” Solar said, and then shrugged. “No offence.”

“Though the Enlightened just call us a gang.” Red spoke the last sentence shortly, almost like it was an insult.

...

“Solar.” She grunted his name, and forced out her responding question as if nothing was happening to her. “Do you have any flame runes? For some reason, I’ve got this image of you in my head, wielding a flaming sword. So, flame runes? Yay or nay?”

Solar grinned. “Oh, I know fire. And a few other things besides. But for actual flaming swords, you want that guy.” He pointed at Wraith, who was scrutinising Red from behind his iron mask. If he had thoughts on the toll her rune had taken on her, he did not voice them.

“I do have such runes.” the Wraith allowed. “But I do not use them lightly.”

“Fiery or not, as long as he sticks the sharp end into the Leveler after we find out her name then we’re golden.” the Immortal observed from atop Wanderer’s horse.

“Leveler has army.” the Ambassador spoke up, still clinging gingerly to her saddle. “They have sharp swords too.”

The Immortal flashed one of his disarmingly bright smiles. “Oh don’t you worry about that, Ambie. As I hope was ably demonstrated back at the mine, I can fix things so you just stroll up to the Leveler while happily flipping off every spearman in the way.”

“I resolved not to raise my blades in anything but self defence.” Wraith broke in warningly. “Until I saw the Leveler for myself. The Enlightened were no paragons. The Leveler may have been right to wish to overthrow them. But the blood shed in the taking of the city must be justified - and if necessary, avenged.”

“Justified?” Solar repeated hotly. “If my little brother was hurt or killed, could you ever call that justified?”

“The Leveler is no paragon either.” Illusion joined in. “At first I believed her like everyone else. She threw down the old masters and freed every slave in the city of Ash. Wasn’t it noble to do the same for those oppressed by the Enlightened? Wasn’t every soldier who stood in our way an evil savage of the same kind the Enlightened had been sending against our city since it was founded?” She shook her head. “I thought it was us versus them. With the Leveler or against her. I was so convinced that it would all be worth it in the end that I looked past every grieving family we left behind us...until it was my family torn apart by the same poisonous myth.”

The Illusion closed her eyes, closing down in her guilt.

The Wraith urged his horse forward. “I never had a family,” he stated in a grim monotone. “Only a master who taught me how to punish sins. That is why I can judge with clarity. Come. If we must get to the City of the Risen God to meet our goals, then let us do so quickly.”

Lost for words Solar just scowled, shaking his head at the masked man as he rode off.

Nudging their horses one by one, the group straggled forward towards the abandoned farm and picked up the new road that ran north to where the River would eventually be joined by the smaller Tributary. This time, most of them rode in sulking silence.

The Immortal rolled his eyes. “This is why I never get involved in politics.”

Azazeal849
03-06-2019, 08:15 AM
The Hole's first step past the shattered ice barrier barring the entrance to the temple stunned her. When the glittering woman looked behind her from the view above, she saw yet again the Leveler's power on display. Down the alleyways filled with soldiers of her command, the dead of her condemned, old ways dying.

"I knew if I followed her I'd see the world change." Cara spoke aloud, letting her voice carry to the realms of space, in the great distance of her supernatural perception. She too had blood on her, against the shine of bright metal plates and soaked in the soft parts of her armour. Cara too did her part to help bring this city into the present, one commanded by the Leveler's liberation. Not everyone here would need to die to learn what freedom was, they were simply afraid of it.

Among the bodies maybe her parents were here. They fled from the Leveler; her father had been a Lightman. For a brief time Cara felt ready to fall to her knees, like the little girl who had been abandoned was taking over her body. For a moment the magic she felt, the connection from above, couldn't reach past her loneliness. A terrible impulse gripped her, mum and dad.

"They didn't stay and die, they ran away again." It was personal, bitter, spoken to cut off those feelings. Again, liberation returned to her mind and heart.

Certain of her actions, the Hole turned and entered into the religious domain. The aftershocks of runecraft still hanging in the air made her skin prickle. Past ice shards, into a room of particular bodies, where stood the Apprentice and the Leveler whom she was bound to. They stood amid smouldering coals, melting chunks of ice, twists of thorny vine that had dessicated into black, helical claws. And everywhere blood - so much blood. It was fanned across one of the limewashed walls, and soaked into the cracked mosaic tiles under Cara’s feet. Wide, rusty streaks across the floor showed where bodies had been dragged away. Two Ashmen hobbled past her, carrying the broken-necked corpse of an old woman in robes of blood-fouled silk.

“There you are.” The Leveler was bloody too - crowned with it, sticky with it beneath the simple cloak she was holding closed around her body. Her dark hair was straggled with gore, and the bar of pastel blue across her eyes had been obliterated by cracked streaks of red.

Running up, the mixed, sparkling fighter entered their line of sight.

"You asked for the Hole, and here I am, coming!" She smiled eagerly.

The Leveler jerked her head towards the floor to Cara’s left. More blood - this time flecked and spattered as if from a glancing wound.

“The Scorpion.” Leveler explained. Cara could see her right hand shifting under the cloak, flexing restlessly open and closed, open and closed. “He used a transportation rune to escape the fight. I need you to make a link, follow him and finish this.”

The Leveler’s expression was one of weary triumph. She shifted her grip on the edges of her cloak, but it was her left hand that she extended to squeeze Cara’s armoured shoulder. Without further word she limped past Cara and began to make her way slowly towards the carved doors at the back of the temple.

Thinking little of the Leveler's command, the Hole smiled and with it promised to do her part. Watching the liberator walk away, Cara glanced once at the Apprentice before heading to the pointed-to pool of blood. The room was a mess, and figuring out where one pool of blood ended and another began was a mystery in of itself. The stomping of her boots was wet but she continued, eyes on the ground looking for the exact splatter the Leveler had pointed to.

She became aware of the Apprentice following up behind her. He was hugging his elbows across his dust-streaked armour, a frown creasing his tawny face.

“Are you alright?” he asked, “I saw you falter at the door.”

His frown was one of concern, but there was also something cagey about his tone, as if he were probing to see if she shared some unspoken thought. Cara dismissed his interests and worries with laughter. Picking her spot, she lowered herself to her knees with a heavy clank.

"Limiting thoughts from a limited place of thinking." Her smile was bright and carefree, giving away her emotional nature to leap from inner turmoil.

Cara’s hands pressed down on the mosaic tiles and she lowered her head. Sparkling hair rolled off her shoulder, seeping into the blood and swimming in it. Her lapping tongue slapped water on her upper lip and skin, swallowing with loud and audible intention to get as much down as possible.

Pausing for breath Cara pulled up and with half her face smeared in battle-shed blood looked at the Apprentice. "Right?" she asked him, wanting his confirmation that indeed the times past were limited compared to now.

“Right.” the Apprentice agreed automatically. He was trying to smile, but his gaze kept flickering from her eyes to her bloody lips. With the smears of red across her cheeks and neck, she no doubt resembled the Leveler herself.

A muscle twitched in the Apprentice’s cheek. “Cara…” he blurted, taking a half step forward only to arrest his own movement and fall back. “Sorry, never mind.”

With that hurried apology, he shrugged his cloak back into place and made a swift exit from the temple. The sun-scorched forecourt flashed briefly through the doorway, and then the door swung back to leave Cara alone in the death-heavy stillness of the temple.


* * * * * *

The Leveler tilted the bucket, and a steady cascade of water washed down over her, leaching the red from her hair and skin, and pooling in pink swirls around her bare feet. Squeezing the wet hair back away from her face, she dipped her head into a woolen towel before tossing it aside. It landed among the wicker chairs, smudged with red.

As she shrugged her gown back over her head and began to tug it into place, she saw the Blue Lady watching her in the polished bronze mirror that hung on the wall in front of her. The vanquished Enlightened stood leaning heavily on the wall but her head stayed up, trying to retain a measure of pride against her pain and fatigue. Her glossy hair was straggling from its pleat, and the impact with the stone column in the atrium had split her cheek and darkened her copper skin purple.

“You should get a healer to see to that.” the Leveler spoke into the mirror without turning round. “When we step out together, your people will need to see their holy leader looking the part. You’re the only Enlightened One left, after all.”

“Two.” the Blue Lady murmured.

The Leveler cinched her belt around her waist, biting back a curse as her dead right hand fumbled momentarily with the clasp. “Pardon?”

The Blue Lady’s eyes were large in her battered face, and the ghost of a smile graced her lips. “Two.” she repeated, in slurring but passable Ash. “There are two Enlightened. The Scorpion escaped you.”

The Leveler’s return smile was frosty cold. “Not for long.”

Suddenly invading the space between the victorious and the defeated came a portal of pitch black and twinkling light. Appearing swiftly from nothing, the cosmic doorway slammed shut by quickly shrinking in an instant. The hypnotic effect of staring into the void the length of a blinking eye. The black cloud coming from it became a sparkling, blood-soaked woman known very well to the Leveler.

"HYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!" the Hole screamed, ready to demoralise the Scorpion and deal the fatal blow before he could react. As the scene was new to her, the point of her pike guided her through the new venture. As the tip of her sparkling weapon was mere inches from the Blue Lady's abdomen, the Hole screamed for an entirely new reason, "Wrong person!" She diverted her blade from impaling the woman and instead stabbed the wall the Blue Lady leaned onto with depleted need.

But the Hole had charged with great momentum. While her pike was stopped by the wall, the Hole's body still continued with the vigour of her rush. Slipping hold of her weapon the mixed woman inadvertently headbutted the Blue Lady, colliding their bodies and slamming both of them against the wall.

The impact of their bodies against the wall knocked them both to the ground in a tangled pile of limbs; they rolled once and the Hole's mouth was pierced by Blue Lady's nose as she lay on top of the exhausted Enlightened. Hole's bloody lips wet the Blue Lady with, now clearly understood, streams of her own blood.

The Hole was too confused to move anymore, waiting for her head to stop spinning.

“Oh Shattered Gods!” the Blue Lady shrieked as she tried to thrash her way out from under her frozen would-be assassin. “You said...you promised...what is the meaning of this!?”

The Leveler wore an uncharacteristic expression of utter bewilderment as she looked down at them. “Hole.” she said at last, “I told you to go after the Scorpion.”

Apologetically Cara loosened her lips off of Blue Lady’s nose and looked up at Leveler.

“I licked where you told me to.” she replied, with her blood-painted mouth frowning.

The Blue Lady shivered, visibly revolted. She crabbed back until she was pressed into the corner of the room, the light from the sconce-held torches flickering across her bruised face. “That...runecraft…” she whispered, and then, more strongly, “What is this blasphemy?”

The Leveler rallied a little, her mouth twitching in amusement. “Runes from the sky, Blue Lady. Secrets of the gods that even the Enlightened don’t know. Remember the limits of your power.”

The firelight wavering across the Leveler’s face briefly illuminated a tracery of dark threads, almost like scales, but a moment later they were gone, as if it had been a mere trick of the light.

“Allow me to introduce the Hole.” she told the Blue Lady, clasping her hands behind her back as she turned to Cara. “Hole, this is the Blue Lady; the Enlightened one who speaks for the Shattered Gods.” Her smile flickered. “But you can call her Keri, daughter of Neve.”

The Blue Lady shuddered violently and let out a low moan. Her copper skin briefly glowed bright, and Cara felt a pulse of magic dissipating into the air. It was much weaker than she would have expected from a powerful mage - she guessed that the unfortunate woman had already been named, and recently. The Blue Lady groaned and withdrew further into her corner, hugging her knees up against her chest, forehead dipping to rest against them. Cara, on her feet, watched the azure dressed woman with curious neutrality. The pain seen and heard meant nothing to the mixed woman, nothing more than a shift of ideas happening for the Enlightened.

"That is a pretty name." Cara remarked evenly and hummed, turning back to her leader. "...Should I try licking the spot again or...?" She ran a finger over her chin and droplets slid down the length of the digit. "I don't think this was his." The Hole took a moment to think about it more. "It would have been easier if he'd spit in my mouth, then I'd really know it was his! Licking it off the floor is tricky."

The Blue Lady raised her head weakly. "What kind of creatures do you associate yourself with, Leveler?"

The Leveler folded her arms, looking down at the Lightwoman. "The kind who see the world differently." she answered. "Maybe you should do the same. Because, as of today, the world is changing."

She swirled a light woollen cloak around her shoulders and pinned it into place.

"I'll call a healer for you." the Leveler said. "We address the city in an hour."

She turned and swept out of the room, gesturing for Cara to follow her. Past the guards at the door and through the cool, airy corridors of the Enlightened palace, they were soon back in the desecrated temple. The tinnitus ring of rune-casts had subsided from the air, but the blood remained. The Leveler surveyed the floor, unconsciously cupping her right hand in her left, massaging the palm with her thumb. The Hole kept close to The Leveler and studied the room with her. There was an overwhelming amount of blood, how was anyone to fine a single person’s?

“Is any of his blood on you? I could use that.” The woman leaned forward, looked up and met the leader’s eyes with a warming smile.

The Leveler’s face closed down. “No.” she said. “No, that blood belonged to the Rose.”

Her tongue passing briefly over her top lip as she let go of the hand she was cradling and pointed to a blood-spattered section of floor.

“There. That blood is his.” Cara ran quickly to obey. Shamelessly she slid her tongue, the scratchy texture of the tile thinly felt through liquid barrier. Small brushes of 'cleaned' spots appeared where she had taken the blood into herself. The strong aroma flew up into The Hole's nostrils, and the taste of metal stung her mouth.

The inner sense of a new connection was made and Cara made sure her leader was aware by giving a smile.

"Do you want any of his body parts?"

The Leveler was quiet for another moment, but then her smile seemed to return. "No, I trust you." hearing the admission from The Leveler, The Hole blushed. It was the highest honor to be had. It was the acknowledgement that she herself was embodying liberation.

The dark smoke of space came, took over Cara’s shape, and took her as well - off to complete The Leveler’s brutal task.

Minkasha
03-06-2019, 08:47 AM
Salty air was his refuge. A sturdy man stared out at the oceanic waves rushing to and away from the waterfront. The weight of surviving, of fleeing, and the death of his fellows kept his stare longing and furious. The Scorpion , sheltered, by his bandages across his abdomen sat alone through the cold mountainside breeze. Then, there was a pricking sensation smothering his nervous system. New, invading, a warning. His inner ears rang, the incoming magic was nearer to him than his sudden sense of caution could have warned.

His time with the ocean was going to end. Either he would die here, or have to run again for The Leveler’s magic was more relentless than he could have guessed.

“Haaa!” His jaw opened, letting loose into the air a protective cloud of green poison. In the midsts of the sickly magic, a cosmic peak through black clouds appeared. For a moment the airy elements of death and space hung together in the air until The Hole was released from the black portal and her body shed from the cosmic blanketing.

Her first experience in the new place was overwhelmingly painful. Tears welled in her eyes, fire in her lungs. The body gulped for something refreshing: for water or even air free of the painful gas. Cara whimpered and struggled to breathe. Footing in the dune sand faltered.

Wham! The Scorpion didn’t take time to look at the fighter, keeping his eyes on the sparkles standing out through his poison cloud. His foot pounded deep in the attacker’s chest. Cara was finally freed of the gas, thudding painfully onto small rocks and sand, then rolling down the steep dune hill she had appeared on.

Wind was taking away Scorpion’s shielding obstruction. He hurried to slip and fasten his gauntlets back on. The lean body was protected only with cotton underpants and the metal braces over his forearms, but there was much he could do with those. When he could see the woman at the base of the hill who tried to get the jump on him, he was disgusted.

The Hole was a strange vision: a beautiful young woman of lightly colored mocha skin, caked in drying blood and sticking clumps of sand, and layered with a beatific glitter that sickly flaunted the many things morbid and unkept about her appearance. The Scorpion narrowed his eyes down at the woman.

“Hole” he said with a growling recognition. “I finally see The Leveler’s foulest agent of destruction”

Cara was reeling from the force taken by her sternum. The metal plating did its part in baring the impact from disabling her outright, but she still had to get the air back into her lungs. Standing, The Hole looked up the dune and saw eyes with a familiar expression: judgment.

Between them speaking, the crashing waves held their conversation with gentle sounds. Through her armor she felt sand moving into funny places.

“Scorpion, it’s not destruction, it’s revolution. Maybe you don’t understand that because you left a bunch of blood on the temple floor. Don’t people who run away like to be free?” She asked coyly and took off a long band of hair. The glittering tresses intensified, concealing the shape until what was in place was a long pike sparkling in its place. “I’ve swallowed your essence inside of me, now you’ll never run again”

Scorpion shuddered.

“There is nothing of me I want to think about you swallowing” Cara pointed up at him. “But…what did you swallow? My blood?” He guessed from her soiled appearance and face. The Hole smiled and nodded, her white teeth stained by the fluids taken from the temple floor.

Cara narrowed her eyes when the man at the top of the dune relaxed his shoulders. Was he taunting her? No such things affected her, for from the understanding of ‘The Wide Hole’ she knew what mattered was the spreading of ideas, the living of people who represented them. And Scorpion was an old idea which needed to be cut down.

Feet stooped deep in sand, running up the dune, The Hole moved to The Scorpion with her pike taking the lead. Small craters of her footsteps marked her labor up to the lean and injured combatant. The Scorpion’s face hardened into hatred, but he had no movement Cara could see to defend himself.

Each of her breaths burned with exhaled poison gas, challenging her stamina.

The tip of the spike was less than a foot from him when he took a breath, blinked and stared The Hole directly into the eye. Cara flinched and a cold shiver went down her spine. By the time The Hole swung her weapon an intense nausea doubled with the fire fading from her lungs. The Scorpion caught the swinging weapon and laughed a low chuckle.

“The Scorpion” he repeated his name. “Stupid bitch my blood is poisono-”

“-uhh uwaahhh!” Projecting from her lips bloody vomit came in a wave impacting the black man’s face, neck and chest. The Hole shuddered and coughed, paralyzed by her symptoms. What Scorpion didn’t expect was vomit flying at such speed and power. His very taunt became a danger to him once vomit laced with his bitter magic landed in his mouth from Hole’s. The activated rune had infused the blood with a volatile poison turning against him. The man also felt sick to his stomach.

“Uh…oh gods no….uwaaaah!” He too vomited, the sandy water front hosting bile bathed warriors locked in a life or death struggle. He too vomited with vigor, adding to The Hole’s sloppy demeanor a batter of throw up to rest over her armor and the length of her hair. Together the two of them stood, stunned by the magic illness spread through them.

But The Hole had the advantage. As The Scorpion was riddled with disgust and debilitating humiliation, The Hole had a murderous history of ingesting every expelling substance of the human body. Gritting her teeth she willed herself through the sickness beginning to attack her and slammed her head against The Scorpion’s. The sloppy sound of crashing skin and wet vomit smacked loud in the air and the male fighter fell on his knee.

One of his thick hands reached out, projecting from them green energetic darts dodged sloppily by Cara relying on her pike as a walking cane. Leaning heavily onto her sand impaling weapon the sparkling woman groaned in sickness. The conflict was becoming a contest of who could endure the draining effects best.

The Scorpion’s shivering body growled, fighting through the calls of his nervous system to stop moving. He lunged from the sand, tackled The Hole and they tumbled down the dune. His bandages were being cut open by the sharp edges of rocks they rolled over. Cara was hit with a serious injury to the side of her skull, she too hit by a poorly placed rock. By the time the two of them reached the bottom, both were in worse shape, retching.

The moment was intimate: Scorpion’s sweaty face near her ear and retching loudly and uncontrollably, Hole doing the same with equal levels of victimization from the ill magic. Crippled upon each other, their ears were overloaded with the guttural noises of the other on the precipice of hurling.

Cara’s diaphragm was weighed down by Scorpion’s heavy body pinning her down on the sand.

“Ha…” The Hole laughed weakly, “We’re vomit siblings and blood siblings” she joked, considering both fluids had been switched between them. Her throat was gripped tightly and The Scorpion stared into her eyes with zealous vitriol.

“The truly faithful…will…uhhwaa!” His upchucking drenched The Hole’s face like the waves of water over sand. There was a painful stinging in her eyes yet again, vomit particles sneaking into her shut vision. This suddenly reminded her of a previous fight she had once, and oddly the full vomit facial was comfortably warm when she shrugged off the raw, pungent, smell. “prevail!”

Above them a new cosmic cloud came into being, a work of Cara’s runework while she lay prone and helpless. The monster of nebulous, hulking body, bright stars and sharp teeth emerged. However Scorpion hadn’t noticed in his weakened and emotional state. That was until the creature mercilessly bit into the Scorpion’s abdomen, lifted him off Cara’s body and threw him hard against the rocky sand dune.

Before the man could try to get up, or react to the massive gash in his back the beast lunged the reclined man. It was a brutal scene: Powerful clawed hands held down the warrior’s arms and feasting wildly, gore splurted down sand and over dull colored, water worn rocks. Scorpion was literally being eaten in half.

The Hole rolled on her side, letting gravity pull off the heavy chunks of his bile and observed.

“THE LEVELER IS DOOMED! THEY HAVE THE BOOK! THEY HAVE THE BOOK!” she heard him spitefully yell at her. In the time it took Cara to stand The Scorpion was dead. His entrails dangled from her creation’s mouth, swallowed down foot by foot of intestine. The black skinned man was left laying where he was, in a sliding pool of blood and entirely missing the middle section of his body.

“What does that mean?” The space warrior asked, entirely unphased by the morbidity of what was experienced, oblivious to it. “I’m tired, help me out” she told her cloudy companion. It ran up the hill and thrashed aside the Lightman’s armor till it sensed a sack of magic and grasped it. Hopping on three legs it handed it to Cara and vanished.

Holding onto it, Cara looked around one last time. Whatever else may have been here she was too weak to search for, still with the threat of being crippled if she didn’t rest. With The Scoprion deceased the magic making her ill was giving away, but she was exhausted none-the-less.

A series of new stars came and went, a flurry of black clouds and Cara was gone. On the bloody temple ground the woman collapsed into unconsciousness, newly acquired runes rolling around and waiting to be taken in The Leveler’s clutch.

Azazeal849
03-07-2019, 11:16 AM
The madness was over now. Fire and screams on the streets of the Light city had given way to coughing, wailing, and dull palls of grey smoke that drifted blearily up into the clear sky.

The Leveler was ensconced in the administrative palace, a looming building of timber, mudbrick and painted stone overlooking the city quays. Four of her faithful spearmen stood watch, while others sorted through an avalanche of papers and wax tablets that had been scattered in the chaos of the siege. Some of the documents had even had to be rescued from fires that the Lightmen bureaucrats had hastily thrown them into before fleeing. Looking at the strange right-to-left script printed on the scrolls, the Leveler reflected that bringing order back to the alien city might be harder than she had thought.

“My lady.” a voice requested her attention. “Someone to see you.”

The Leveler raised her head from the papers on the desk to see a knot of people stepping into her room. Her faithful Apprentice walked alongside the pale, scar-ravaged Burning One, and on his other side was the Blademaiden, straight-backed and austere with her palm resting on the hilt of her ever-present sabre. The man walking beside and slightly ahead of them was new to the Leveler. He was tall, with leathery tawny-brown skin and a thick beard that was speckled with grey. He wore a faded brown cloak, whose hood he kept raised even beneath the roof of the palace.

“And who is this?” the Leveler inquired, looking to the Apprentice to translate.

“You may call me Keero, your magnificence.” the bearded man spoke up, surprising the Leveler with a perfect grasp of Ash. “I have the honour of being the leader of the Hunters.”

The Leveler raised an eyebrow. “And they are?”

The man called Keero folded his hands. “Many things, magnificence. But most of interest to you, the Enlightened paid us to keep the peace within this fair city. Well of course, now…” The man cast his eyes around the paper-scattered room and shrugged. “The Enlightened no longer rule here, but order still needs to be maintained - especially right now. A snake priest’s sermon goes a long way to keeping people on the straight and narrow path, but a bronze dagger goes even further, if you take my meaning?”

The Leveler folded her hands. “And how much did the Enlightened pay you for your…services?”

Keero clasped his arms behind his back. “Five hundred silver coins per month, if it please your magnificence. Plus the occasional rune to demonstrate to the people that we are blessed by the gods and have their sanction.”

The Leveler hmm’d. “As you may have noticed, master Keero, I already have thousands of spearmen in this city to keep the peace. And dozens of mages with their own runes. I know that these people are already loyal to me. Why then would I need you?”

“With the greatest respect, magnificence, the city will not accept your soldiers. They are invaders. Worse than that, they are Ashmen. To the people here, Ashmen are blasphemers. Snake-eaters.”

“I am an Ashwoman too.” the Leveler pointed out, warningly. “And I doubt you’ll find a single freedman in my army who’s ever eaten one of your sacred water-snakes. Everyone who was rich enough to afford that particular delicacy was cast down when I liberated the city.”

Keero spread his arms placatingly. “Be that as it may, magnificence, that is what the people will believe.”

The Leveler flexed the fingers of her right hand. “Believe…” she murmured.

After a moment of silence, she half rose from her cushioned wicker chair, fists pressing into the desk that had once belonged to a Lightman administrator.

“Here’s something you should start to believe, master Keero. Loyalty is going to be the new currency of this city, not money. And if you think your Hunters are the only ones who can command fear and respect...then you’re mistaken. I will leave that job to loyal men and women.”

The Blademaiden silently nodded her approval, her full lips curving into a smile. The Burning smiled too, though his scarred grin held more malice. The Apprentice’s expression was carefully neutral.

The Leveler locked eyes with him, cocking an eyebrow. “Speak your mind.”

The Apprentice’s gaze flickered down to the floor, and then back up to meet the Leveler’s. “My lady, these Hunters might be trustworthy or they might not. A sense of continuity might be good for the city, or it might not.”

A smile tugged at the corner of the Leveler’s mouth. “We didn’t come here to carry on the same sclerotic order.”

The Apprentice dipped his head in acknowledgement of the point. “My concern, my lady, is to have these Hunters in the city and not under our control.”

The Leveler nodded slowly. “You might be right.” She looked at Keero, and then let her gaze slide past him to the Burning. “Arrest him.”

“What…?” Keero began, but then the Burning’s hand landed on his shoulder and seized his collar. Sparks of flame flickered warningly around the big mage’s scarred hands. The Burning One grinned again, the expression doing something hideous to his ravaged face. Keero’s eyes darted from his antagonist to the Leveler.

“Think carefully, Leveler.” the bearded man said with quiet dignity. “You might be starting something here that you can’t finish.”

“Don’t threaten me, master Keero.” the Leveler responded coolly. “Everyone who does that ends up dead.” She waved her hand in dismissal.

Keero kept his eyes silently locked on the Leveler as the Burning hauled him backwards.

“And round up the rest of these so-called Hunters as well.” The Leveler settled back into her seat as the mercenary was dragged away.

That was the failing of the Enlightened. They relied too much on mercenaries, because they were too paranoid to trust anyone else with their runes.

The exchange reminded her of a certain other mercenary she would need to deal with. Redmoor had recruited him and even raised him to command of his own spear company, but his intelligence value had run out after the skirmish at the rune mines.

“My lady,” the Blademaiden spoke up in a measured tone, interrupting her thoughts. “There is something else.”

The Leveler looked up and refolded her hands. “Oh?”

“It’s the Hole. She came back with the Scorpion’s runes.”

The Leveler smiled. “She can be the first to touch them. She’s earned that.”

“She was injured.” the Apprentice spoke up, “And…” He shook his head and grimaced, not sure quite how to describe the Hole’s bloody and vomit-caked state when she had reappeared in the Enlightened pyramid.

The Leveler ground her left thumb into her right palm. “You called a healer for her?”

“Yes, she’s with the Singer now.” The Apprentice looked concerned despite his own reassurance. “She was babbling in her sleep; she kept saying, they have the Book...?”

The Leveler looked up sharply. “The Book. You’re sure that’s what she said?”

“Yes.” The Apprentice frowned uncertainly. “My Lady?”

“The Immortal’s still trying to fuck me, even after I blow him to bits.” The Leveler rose sharply to her feet. “Gather the inner circle. Tell the Arbiter and the Grey Sisters that they are to keep the peace until I get back.”

Blademaiden and the Apprentice glanced at each other. They were to leave the city - in the midst of their triumph? With the new regime barely announced and none of the city’s infrastructure yet back in place?

“My Lady.” the Apprentice said, straightening. “Whatever needs done, let me take care of it. The Lightmen need you here - not just to visibly rule but to hear their petitions after the city was sacked.”

“If we don’t move now we’re all in danger.” The Leveler pushed past her wicker chair, causing it to tilt back and clatter across the floor. “Hole said that group of renegades and traitors had a Mer with them. Well it looks like that Mer has given them the gods-damn Book of Names.”

Her two acolytes had no answer but silence. The Leveler lunged across her writing desk to grab the tiny wooden box that the Hole had brought back after her first skirmish with the Lightmen.

“We’re going after them, now.”

Azazeal849
03-07-2019, 11:31 AM
“Why do you want to learn the runes, boy?”

The man stared through curtains of brittle brown hair, calmly sizing up the youth who stood before him.

“Do you know what kind of life you will have, here in the Risen city?”

The boy stood tall - proud and self-assured by the stubborn confidence of youth. Curling black hair had been cut close to his umber scalp, and the lines of his nose and jaw showed promise of growing into a handsome man if the Risen God granted him three or four more years of life. His eyes were dark in colour, but bright with conviction. Here was a boy who would not be easily turned from his goals, regardless of the opinions of others.

“Everyone believes in the Shattered Gods.” the boy told him. He spoke with the trilled r’s and rapid cadence of someone born and bred in the Riseman city. “But here we made our own god - a whole, strong god. The Risen God.”

The man’s gaze didn’t falter. “A god who hates magic.”

“A people who hate magic.” the boy countered. “And the only reason they can control us is that they know our names.”

“And,” the man reminded him, one hand coming up to brush the iron collar that he wore around his neck. “The runes are kept under lock and key until you surrender your name.”

“And then they work you to death.” the boy retorted scornfully. “Wouldn’t you want the freedom to use your runes for yourself? For the good you chose?”

The man exhaled down his nose. “Of course I would. But that cannot be for me, any more than it can for you.”

The boy pointed at the man’s sleeve. “I know that symbol, the tattoo you hide with your wristband. You’re a Seeker. You’re supposed to protect people.”

The man twitched, instinctively moving to tug his woollen sleeve down further, over the leather bangle he wore. He abandoned the gesture as useless, and just watched as the boy’s mouth curved into a smile.

“I was a Seeker.” the man admitted. “Once.”

“Will you teach me?”

The man exhaled again, shaking his head. “Without runes? The priests gave me them just long enough to gain their power, then locked them away again.”

The boy folded his arms. “A Seeker can always find runes.”

The man frowned, deepening the crow’s feet around the corners of his eyes. “You’re clever, boy. Perhaps too clever.” There was a pause. “Which means that for you to learn from someone other than me is probably more dangerous.” He sighed again, this time in resignation. “I know a place. Come back tonight.”

The boy bowed his thanks and ducked out through the hanging curtain serving to cover the hovel’s doorway. As he started off down the bustling street, his lips peeled back into a white smile.

“If there’s one new god,” the boy who would become the Immortal murmured to himself, “Then why shouldn’t there be another?”


Part 4 - The Teacher

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The headwaters of the Tributary flowed down from the mountains to form the lesser of the Valley’s two rivers, twisting steadily east until it met its larger cousin and swirled on south towards the City of the Enlightened. Like the Tributary, the City of the Risen God had grown from the mountains too; a sombre, grey metropolis of alpine granite.

Unlike Ash and Light, which straddled the River at its source and estuary respectively and linked their two halves via bridges and ferries, the Risemen city squatted almost entirely on the southern bank of its watercourse. Its grey sprawl was framed by the low spine of mountains looming beyond the opposite bank, a long spur that jutted out from the higher peaks that enclosed the Valley and cut west to east almost as far as the River, separating the Risemen from the Ash city further north. Men of both cities referred to the long, craggy range simply as the Barrier, and it had no doubt been the reason that the Risemen were spared the Leveler’s wrath as she marched south to overthrow the Enlightened.

The farms and villages they had passed on their way west were still occupied, untroubled by the war between Ash and Light, but many had spearmen posted on watch, and the looks they gave the six travellers were unfriendly. The Risemen, with their strange religion and deep suspicion of runecraft, were no friends of the Leveler’s Ashmen - no more than they were friends of the dogmatic Lightmen to their south. But in their home city, the Immortal claimed, lived the man who could help them translate the Book and finish the Leveler, and so here they were. After a hard six days following the Tributary upstream, they had finally made camp within sight of the city walls.

The sun was rising far to the east, pushing out golden rays that struggled to reach the low ground where they camped. Nearby their horses snorted and stamped, their breath misting the early morning air.

“Oh good, you’re awake.” the Immortal’s head greeted the group, from his position atop their baggage. “I was getting sick of staring at Ambie’s face.”

The Ambassador sat under a tree with her legs folded under her, blinking back at the Immortal. “Sick of your face too, but face is all you have.”

The Immortal narrowed his eyes to dark slits. “Fuck you.”

“So you did actually keep watch last night?” Solar broke in as he stretched the knots out of his back and pulled on his boots.

The Immortal cocked an eyebrow. “If I was going to prank you, don’t you think I’d have done it before now?”

“I’m just saying,” Solar shrugged, “I’m never quite sure if I can turn my back on you. Unlike the rest of us, you never did give the fucking Mer your name.”

“Wanderer took the liberty of stuffing me in her bag, and I took an executive decision to stay hidden. As people keep pointing out, I’m a head. What do you think happens if you take the magic out of me?”

Solar finished lacing up his boots and stood. “And yet you now all know our names, but we don’t know yours. Even Red gave us that insurance.” He glanced across to Red, who was gathering her things. “No offence.”

“You may have noticed that Wanderer also weaseled out of giving the Mer her mother’s name.” the Immortal replied tartly. “Which just proves that she’s smarter than the rest of you.”

“Still.” Solar argued. “What’s to stop you from stabbing us in the back once you get what you want?”

The Immortal raised his eyebrows. "Honestly? Nothing, really. But it would require me to actually give a shit.”

Illusion folded her arms, troubled by the whole exchange. “And what exactly are you going to do when you use the Moonstone to get your body back?”

The Immortal laughed. "I’ll tell you what I won’t do. I’ll never take any bodily function for granted ever again. I'm going to eat an entire farm, take a shit, and then bang every willing girl from here back to the city of Light."

Solar, seemingly placated, offered a snide grin. “That won’t be many.”

“How about you shut up.” the Immortal replied flatly. “Let’s see now. If you want to get into the Risen city, you’re going to need a plan. The Risemen hate unregistered mages.”

Katrina
03-09-2019, 03:23 PM
Her breath came fast, in-out-in-out, burning her dry throat with every gasp. The door was just in front of her, cobblestone walls closing in as she ran. Her child legs could only carry her so quickly. Multiple sets of boots echoed behind her. Clamoring steel and shifting armor. Alana glanced over her shoulder briefly, then continued sprinting to the end of the corridor. The door was shut! Hastily, she reached out. As soon as her fingertips had brushed the door, it disappeared, like a blink, and was replaced by...Keero?

Dream-fueled confusion morphed into remembrance. She recalled the moment all too well. How could she ever forget? His knee bent, the stubble on his chin angled towards her. The piece, the blade, in all its brilliant curiosity. And he was holding it out for HER. She looked back at her father across the dusty road, remembering his orders. He shook his head slowly, the sight of his dark eyes screamed at her with the stern line of his lips. Obedience, never wavering from his commands. But...

She couldn’t resist.

Keero’s hands held the blade out like an offering, laying across his palms. She reached out, glided her fingertips along the tip of the decorated hilt, then gently, cautiously, closed her fingers around it. They brushed his hands. She vaguely observed the calluses and rough skin of his hands.

When she finally lifted the dagger, she hadn’t expected it to be so heavy. The weight of the blade was that of total respect. She realized immediately, it was the same respect given to this man kneeling in front of her. The way people gave him space, watching concernedly but curiously from down the road. They didn’t dare touch, but admired, and feared, from a distance. She imagined all the places the weapon had been. All the wonders it had seen. The horror it had administered.

The steel, so sharp and brilliantly clean, glinted under the bright sun. When she tilted it right, she saw her own reflection, stretched across the shaped blade. Transfixed by the piece, she finally lifted her gaze up to the Hunter still kneeling. As he was observing her, a faint smile had shaped his lips. She knew in that moment, she didn’t want to let go of it. She wanted to keep the blade in her hand, and wanted to see that smile on that face.

The Hunter tilted his head up, seeing something behind her, then focused his view back down at her. He reached forward one open palm. Just as she was, begrudgingly, about to place the dagger in his hand, she heard the rough footsteps of the person the Hunter must have seen. She turned around just in time to see the blur of her fathers fist come down across the side of her head. She was sent flying across the dirt. When she hit the ground, she was plunged into endless water strongly pulling her down to its darker depths.

She was no longer Alana. No longer a child. Her red cloak and dress swirled around her, suspended in blue. She twisted around, struggling to find her bearings. Which was up? Which was down? Where was the sun...the water was so dark. Ambie, flicking her tail, glided over to her from shadowy water. Red reached out a bare hand and Ambie met it with one of her own. Ambie’s other hand gripped the back of Red’s hood and pulled their lips together. Suspended in water, their bodies drifting, Red kissed her so deeply.

The sharp screech of a sword being slid from its sheath rang clearly through the dark waters. She pulled away from the Mer’s lips to see Solar...his hair was literally fire. And he was holding a sword over his head pumping flames from its own steel like it was made of sparks. She watched the fire jump off the steel and charge towards her in a rolling tumbling column. She looked back at Ambie but was alone. Solar had disappeared as well. The column of flames surrounded her, circling her like a group of bandits. It ran around her over and over, closing the space. Water and fire, swarming around her, tighter...tighter...breath...she couldn’t...

***

Red opened her eyes to the trees above her swaying their leaves softly. The sun was barely above the horizon, somewhere in the distance. The sunrise was casting an array of colors across the clouds she could see peeking through the branches. A reflexive gasp wrenched air down into her lungs. She had been holding her breath in her sleep again. For how long? What else had she done? Had anybody heard her say anything?

Slowly, cautiously, she leaned forward, still breathing fast. She’d slept leaning against a massive tree trunk, holding her sword in her bare right hand. She didn’t want to be anything other than ready for any kind of sneak attack. She scanned the sleeping group, still feeling the hesitation of sleeping around strangers. Not finding any danger, she let her breath steadily slow itself, and leaned back against the tree. She watched the clouds change color while the sun finished rising and the creatures of the forest awoke around her.

Once everyone else was awake, she stood and began brushing off her clothes and gathering her things. She heard the others start some conversation but didn’t pay attention. It just sounded like more bantering. Basic human interaction. Nothing she was interested in. Still, Ambie’s remark to the Immortal made Red breath out sharply to stifle a short laugh. She admired how quickly Ambie had caught on to the dynamic of the group, though she herself found that a simple task. Hearing Ambie’s voice reminded Red of the dream she’d had, and she brushed her own exposed lips with her fingertips. “...RED gave us that insurance...no offense.”
Red just hummed softly in response. “Mmm.”

“If you want to get into the Risen city, you’re going to need a plan. The Risemen hate unregistered mages.”

Red turned towards the group, gloved, covered, and cloaked. “If you need to get into the Risen city without dealing with the guards, I may be able to help.”

Scottie
03-16-2019, 02:00 PM
The morning sun was gently warming the air, forcing the Wanderer to relax her shoulders. No longer was she tensed up into a tight ball to keep herself warm, the sun was happily gifting her warmth. A soft smile had drifted itself onto her lips and her frown had been reduced to a faint crease in her forehead. For the briefest of moments, she looked her true age. She actually looked peaceful. Then he spoke.

Does he every shut up?

Her right eye snapped open to the Immortal. Sitting loftily on top of their baggage...where he had demanded to be sat last night. She presumed that it was so he could be taller than them all for once. Already the jesting began and the wanderer pressed a rough palm into the soil. Pushing herself to sitting cross legged and watching the rest of the group rise slowly. Solar did have a point. The Immortal probably spent the evening sleeping or gazing lovingly at his reflection in whatever reflective surface he could find.

Worn teeth gritted hard against each other as the immortal pulled her up on not giving her full name. A glare was thrown at the head as she planned how she could make the last leg of their journey a horrible one for him. A moment of silence passed over her until the joke that Solar made landed. The snort of laughter that left her body was a disgusting noise, it soon transcended into a dirty cackle at the immortals expense. “He...He does have a point.” She gave the younger mage a quick nod in respect to his well timed joke on the immortal.


Before her cracked lips could open again to answer the question thrown at the group by the petulant loaf, Red spoke. The Wanderer raised an eyebrow and scanned over the woman before responding. “As long as it doesn’t involve any runes.” She said bluntly. “I presume that if the Risemen hate unregistered mages, they have a way of at least detecting mages if they use any runes to gain entry to their city...Am I correct?” Her question was directed at the loaf who seemed to be trying to make himself look taller by stretching his chin out.

“We do not need any more fights or any more weakness caused by using any runes. We need everyone at full health...We should just disguise ourselves better and walk in.” The wanderer chuckled lightly at the plain and simple plan but sometimes that was the best one.

Azazeal849
03-17-2019, 01:11 PM
Red turned towards the group, gloved, covered, and cloaked. “If you need to get into the Risen city without dealing with the guards, I may be able to help.”

The Wanderer raised an eyebrow and scanned over the woman before responding. “As long as it doesn’t involve any runes.” She said bluntly. “I presume that if the Risemen hate unregistered mages, they have a way of at least detecting mages if they use any runes to gain entry to their city...Am I correct?”

“They have a song they teach children to recognise the Five Evil Signs of someone casting a rune.” the Immortal recalled, and hummed a few bars of what was presumably that song before making a face. “It would be pretty embarrassing to get found out by some snotty-nosed five year old.”

“We do not need any more fights or any more weakness caused by using any runes. We need everyone at full health...We should just disguise ourselves better and walk in.” The Wanderer chuckled lightly at the plain and simple plan, but sometimes that was the best one.

“We sneak again?” the Ambassador inquired, seeming enthused by the prospect.

Solar squinted at her. “Sometimes I wonder if you’re really related to those creepy bastards we met last week.”

The Mer kicked her feet. “A little different.” she admitted evasively.

“When you say disguise.” the Wraith rumbled softly, folding his arms. “What exactly are you suggesting?”

“I expect she’s suggesting that you lose the party mask.” Immortal quipped. “Unless you want the Risemen asking why such a famous vigilante has turned up at the gates.”

Wraith’s eyes narrowed slightly behind the slits of his iron face-covering. “This is not just a mask. It is a symbol. My oath to my sacred task.”

Katrina
03-18-2019, 03:43 PM
“I agree with the masked one.” Red stated firmly. “And Ambie. We should sneak in under the cover of night. I can manage the guards with simple hand to hand combat. Nobody has to die if it’ll really upset you.” She said, glancing at Wanderer. “But I’m not showing my face. Hunters never show their full face. And they’ll know anyway, if we go in with disguises. They’ll know, just by looking at my face that I’m different.” She raised a single gloved hand to her scarf, as if checking that it was still there. “Besides. Where would we even GET disguises.” She crossed her arms. “I say we sneak.”

Kiro Akira
03-22-2019, 07:44 PM
Solar crossed his arms and gave a soft huff. "Full health my ass I'm good to go! I can take all them stupid fucks on. So we can be little bitches and sneak on in or! We can just use some battle runes and just bust our own way in. I'm for busting my own way in but I guess I have to follow all of you cause if it's just me then I'm fucked." He said with a nod before motioning at The Immortal. "Except for him, cause you know.... The name says it all and he can pretty much fuck his way through anything with Immortalness and stuff...."

Scottie
03-26-2019, 06:38 PM
“Lose the mask. Simple.” She repeated the Immortals words to the Wraith. “I know it is a symbol...But a symbol can be put to the side for one afternoon.” Her gaze flicked to Red, who of course had something else to say that added nothing to the conversation. “Death does not upset me. I’ve seen more than you’d think, pup.” She let the insult sit on her lips. This young woman was making her out to a sensitive old woman. That did not sit well with the wanderer.

“You are going to manage every single guard in the city...by yourself.” She blinked slowly, blatantly staring at the woman who was quite literally a talking chin at this point. “You are not helping your case. We all have things that make us stand out. We hide them.” The scarf was obviously a big thing for Red. A sense of security maybe...a stupid thing for a hunter truly. Something easily dragged off in a dying attempt to stop her attack. Something to grab and blind her, even cover her mouth.

“I say sneaking will only lead to us being found out. You seriously think that this city is going to have two or three stupid guards on watch. That they will not be used to trained fighters or those who use runes. Are you so stupidly confident that you think you can defeat anyone by yourself....” She paused and let her arms cross over her chest. Brown sun spots kissed her arms, weaving in amongst the small silver scars that littered her entire body. “What if they have another mage in there like Redmoor? You couldn’t defeat him the first time. What’s to stop someone else from throwing us against a city wall with a flick of their wrist.”

The wanderer raised a hand towards the loaf to silence him. “If we alert the city to your presence, we all die. No matter how good you think you are, you are...too important to put a target on your obscenely large forehead in this city.” She let out a sharp breath, her forearms pressing tight against her ribs. “If we sneak. We work as a team. If we come across guards, we work together to get them out of the picture. You are not the only skilled one in this group. If you wish to lead us in the city, fine. But you are taking him with you.” She said firmly with a sharp jolt of her head towards the immortal. If Red wanted to be charge, so fucking be it. But she would carry the loaf. She would take his instructions. He was their guide in this strange city.

Azazeal849
03-27-2019, 10:06 PM
“Besides. Where would we even GET disguises.” She crossed her arms. “I say we sneak.”

Illusion rubbed her chin thoughtfully. “We’ve got horses with full saddlebags. We could pass as traders. Or, yeah, we could wait until nightfall.”

“Every hour we wait is an hour of the Leveler’s men rampaging through my home.” Solar said, his face souring as he stood up to tend to the horses who were hobbled to the nearby copse of trees.

“Lose the mask. Simple.” Wanderer repeated the Immortal’s words to the Wraith. “I know it is a symbol...But a symbol can be put to the side for one afternoon.”

The Immortal smirked approval from atop the saddlebags. “Unless your faith is so fragile that you’ll lose it if you take your mask off?”

Wraith met the Immortal’s raised eyebrow with a challenging gaze. He shifted it to Wanderer, and held her eyes for a long moment before reaching for the band that looped behind his head.

The others weren’t sure what they had been expecting. Perhaps the stern, thin features of a born ascetic. Perhaps a warrior’s face, careworn and etched with scars. An old man, or a deceptively young one. But when Wraith dipped his head to slide the mask off and looked back up towards them, his face was nothing but ordinary. A little paler than the Valley’s mostly olive and brown inhabitants, with a receding chin and a nose that was still peeling from the light burns his duel with the Burning had inflicted.

Illusion, who could never truly hide an emotion, gasped in surprise. The Wraith smiled knowingly at her.

“This is why the mask matters. My face is just the face of a man, but the Wraith’s mask is an idea - his name is fear and justice, and that doesn’t change whether I wear the mask, or my master, or his master before him.”

“Just a man though.” the Ambassador put in as she studied Wraith’s newly-revealed features. “Better for sneak.”

“So when do we sneak?” Illusion asked, folding her arms around her knees. “This morning through the main gate, or later tonight?”

The wanderer let out a sharp breath, her forearms pressing tight against her ribs. “If we sneak. We work as a team. If we come across guards, we work together to get them out of the picture. You are not the only skilled one in this group. If you wish to lead us in the city, fine. But you are taking him with you.”

The Immortal made a show of looking disappointed. “And I thought we were starting to build a beautiful friendship from inside your travel bag.”

“If we go now we’ll need more cloaks and fewer obvious weapons.” Solar rejoined. Still the only authority on horses in the group apart from Red, he had set out fodder and was walking one of the animals around the camp by its reins in a slow warm-up. “As to where we’ll find any of that out h-”

He broke off and halted, looking down the hill towards the river. Beyond a plot of rice paddies and a drier field of harvested wheat stubble stood a long farmhouse. Two figures - a man and a woman - had just emerged from it, to greet a quartet of children who were scrambling noisily back from the riverside with their arms full of sopping wet bundles. The woman laughingly slapped the man across the backside before taking the smallest child’s bundle, unfolding a tunic, and pegging it out on a long rope that was strung between the wings of the farmhouse. The man just cursed and took up the arms of a rusty plough, which he dragged to the stubble field and began to push haltingly through the earth.

“Hey Wraith,” Solar called over his shoulder. “You speak Rise, don’t you?”

“I do.” the plain-faced Wraith nodded.

“Why don’t you run down there and ask them how many clothes they’d be willing to swap for a workhorse?”


* * * * * *

They had to lead their horses through the crush at the arched gate in the city walls, but the large beasts helped to forge their path. Their new, still-damp tunics were a blessing as the heat of the summer sun began to bite once more.

Red’s signature gown and robe were folded carefully away in a saddlebag and had been replaced by a plainer, darker cloak with distinctively Riseman stitching. She had kept her red scarf, which hid her mouth and nose as she surveyed the walls, and the comings and goings of the watchmen above. It could be valuable information should they need to leave again in a hurry. The Ambassador shuffled beside her, dodging to and fro out of the way of pushing pedestrians while hiding her otherworldly features as best she could with her hooded cloak.

Wanderer was given the chance to enjoy the first new tunic she had possessed in some time, together with a faded but perfectly serviceable cloak of wool designed to keep the sun off in the daytime and the chill away at night.

A bearded man who wore a stuffed jacket by way of armour with some kind of sigil pinned over his chest halted them as they reached the gate, and jabbered at them in the rapid, trilled-r’s speech of the Risemen.

“City tax.” Wraith translated.

Solar scowled. The warden pointed at their horses’ heavy saddlebags and launched into another diatribe.

“If we wish to sell goods within the city we need to pay.” Wraith explained.

Solar continued to mutter, but it was better than telling the gatekeeper what they were actually carrying, and so he reluctantly handed over his purse.

The city seemed unfriendly - from its grey stonework to the other early-morning vendors buffeting through the streets towards the marketplaces. It lacked the oppressed, furtive air of the besieged Lightman city, but its people were strange and the fat, looping squiggles of Riseman writing above the shop fronts were unfamiliar. The Risemen themselves eyed them with looks that ranged from indifference to wary suspicion, evidently able to pick out a foreigner even in Riseman clothes. Some however wouldn’t meet their eyes, and those men and women shuffled furtively from building to building, often accompanied by the shouts or cuffing blows of an impatient master. Every one of them wore a metal collar bearing more Rise script - presumably their true name. Those must be the mages.

“I wonder,” Solar murmured, “How they’ll fare when the Leveler’s mages come here and just fucking Name everyone who’s got the runes to fight them?”

A scruffy brown dog that had been lying with its nose on its paws in a tenament doorway suddenly sprang up to sniff around the Ambassador’s ankles. The Mer froze, uncertain how to react to the animal’s attention, but the dog just wagged its tail before bounding away towards a knot of people gathered before a temple.

The Risemen temples to their single Risen God were simple, compared to the imposing constructions of the Light city. The walls were plain grey stone, and in the recessed courtyard stood a small shrine with a time-blurred carving of the god, whose offerings had been stuffed into a small letterbox opening below, wrapped in twists of paper and flower stems. Behind the offering shrine was a plinth, where stood an austere woman with a coil of plaited hair. A younger man stepped gingerly up onto the plinth to face her, accompanied by an armed guard. A collared servant-mage stood back, another collar hinged open in his hands. A little crowd of locals was beginning to gather to watch the ceremony.

The woman began to speak in a stentorian voice. Wraith, who had been born in the Risemen city, could understand her well enough, though the others had to rely on his running translation.

“And you will give your name unto the Risen God, and to his great city?” the priestess finished, her eyes fixed on the young man in silent judgement.

The young man nodded eagerly. “I will.”

“Then speak your name.”

“Connor, born of Keri.”

The mage behind the priestess passed his hand over the collar he was holding, and a brief flare of light illuminated the gesture. When it was done, a line of looping Rise script was burned into the metal. The mage handed the collar to the priestess and then, almost fearfully, reached into a pouch at his waist and drew out a runestone that shimmered in the sunlight.

“Accept the first of the Risen God’s blessings.” the priestess intoned.

The young man reached out quickly to place his hand over the other mage’s. His arm jumped as he made contact, and the mage hurriedly snatched the runestone back, but the young man seemed unconcerned. He was staring at his hand, a look of wonder fixed on his youthful face as he moved his fingers, which were now glowing with a soft yellow light.

“May you serve the God well,” the priestess said, “Connor child of Keri.”

The young man didn’t seem to hear her; he was still mesmerised by the runecraft enveloping his hand. But the group, and everyone else around, saw what didn’t happen. His hand continued to glow. There was no flash of dissipating magic. The Naming hadn’t worked.

“He gave a false name!” the priestess shrieked. “Seize him!”

Wraith had stopped translating, but the others didn’t need the priestess’ words to understand what was going on as the crowd began to yell and the armed man on the plinth ripped his sword from its scabbard and hammered the pommel into the back of the young man’s skull.

Katrina
03-31-2019, 06:38 AM
With more reluctance than she had felt towards discussion, Red agreed to stow her colorful clothes. She felt so disgustingly wrong in the new cloth, but was grateful for her scarf. She didn’t mention her biggest concern though. As she was changing, she made sure not to look anybody in the eyes. She had already told these people so much, why should she tell them her masters’ teachings?

“The eyes are the window to the soul.”

And hers were so unusual, she recalled, while avoiding eye contact with the group, how her parents had commanded the same for so many years. Her gaze scared them, among others over time. Her parents were discomforted by her differently colored eyes, and demanded she never make eye contact. Her mentor had demanded otherwise.

“Life is in the eyes.”

He’d curled the side of his finger under her chin, urging her to look up at him. For so long, looking up at him was all she could do. He’d helped her become capable of so much more.

“Let me see those eyes.”
She looked into his for a moment, then looked down. When he tilted her chin higher, she glanced at his face again, then away. She heard him chuckle softly as he withdrew his hand. “Beautiful. Powerful eyes. Green is such a mesmerizing color. Bright, like the hypnotic grass valleys. And Blue, like water, carving it’s way through mountains. I can see why your parents were so afraid.” As he spoke, he stood and drew his hood over his own eyes. “For the sake of blending in, you should keep those covered when we’re in public. But around me, you let me look. And I’ll do the same. Once the Hunters get used to you, they’ll do you the same courtesy.”

Presently, standing among the crowd, watching this boy sacrifice his name, she curled her hand over her eyes and peeked through her fingers. Along their entire entrance into the city she had looked at the ground, while briefly glancing up at the walls go survey their area. In case they needed to make an escape later on. She tried to make this gesture with her hand look as though she were shielding her sight from the sun, but when the priestess realized his lie, she couldn’t stop herself. She heard some of the Risen words her mentor had taught her.

Him, or he? And name...fake...to give.

A guard hit him on the head, and Red burst out laughing. It was loud and obvious, turning several heads from the crowd. She gasped beneath her scarf, tilting her head so far down all she could see was the stone beneath her feet, and stifled her laughter. When she glanced up, too many eyes were on her. She reached for her hood to pull it down over her face, but....oh shit.

No hood. Her face. Her eyes. Her soul! She breathed out shakily, ready to activate her rune to escape from the dreadful crowd, but stopped before she outstretched one hand. They were all there for a reason. They couldn’t be kicked out. Even though their reasons meant nothing to her, she still wanted to find the red mage. The Leveler already attacked the Light city, and Red would be lying to herself if she believed she wasn’t worried for her mentor. This group was eager to defeat the Leveler. If she stayed with them, she would likely achieve her goals as well. Reminding herself of this, she withheld her urge to escape using her one rune.

Now, she was left feeling naked. She felt unsteady. Exposed and weak. She darted her gaze around the crowd, spotting a line of buildings with space between them at the edge of the gathering. She weaved her way through the crowd to reach the alleyway, leaving the group behind, but it wasn’t fast or far enough. She started a wobbling sprint, then bolted for the space, knocking over at least a few confused or angry citizens.

Alleyways. Red loved alleyways. Shortcuts. Hiding spots. Ambush potential. Alleyways were wonderful. The rooftops on either side of the alley casted shadows alongside her boots. At the end of the narrow space, when the shock and chatter of the crowd felt farther away, Red dropped to her knee’s. She heard her mentors voice.

“Never let them see. Child, your eyes are as obvious to a stranger as your blood lust is to my trained eyes.”

The scarf around her neck drooped, so she pulled it securely around her nose and mouth. She paused though, thinking back to when her mentor had first taken her to meet the Hunters. He’d covered her eyes, so she wouldn’t know all their secret pathways.

She pulled the scarf off her neck to immediately wrap it once over her eyes and the bridge of her nose. She knotted it behind her head and let the ends hang down her back. Her long black hair was warm under the sun, though she had tucked half of it beneath the shitty Rise cloak. She reached behind her, her exposed fingers still tingling with discomfort, and tucked the ends of the scarf beneath the cloak. She opened her eyes beneath the scarf, barely able to see past the tightly knitted fabric. Red closed her eyes, and did as she had been taught.

“HA! Child, do you think I can see from under this thing?” Her mentor pulled down on his hood. “No no no, we Hunters do not rely on our eyes. We use them, but we do not rely on them. We feel the wind, hear the sounds. There’s a whole other world up here,” he tapped the side of his head. “An open plain, constantly changing. Always growing. We do not need shapes and colors to know what is around us. We use the space inside our minds to hold onto everything we need, and toss away everything we don’t. Do not worry. You will learn. I will teach you.”

Scottie
04-03-2019, 08:33 PM
Cracked fingertips dragged over the wool again. A faint smile lay on her lips as she looked down on the soft material. It had seen a fair few summers but it was new to her. It was better than the scraps she had been wearing previously. No longer did she appear as a rag tag follower of the group… Instead she was a member who belonged. The wanderer let a small sliver of the material stay in her fingertips as she let her hand drop to her side. A gruff man by the gate spoke in a language that sounded like a bird squawking. Having the Wraith with them was vital to getting in swiftly. For a brief moment, the Wanderers hand twitched. Not in the need to protect herself from the watchful eye of the warden, but to whack Solar round the top of his head when he started to grumble to himself.

Grey. The city felt like a layer of dust had latched itself to every surface. The writing looked like it was dancing across the stone work and the people were odd. They did not look like anyone she had seen before, there was a different air to them. She was keeping up a good pace, not allowing anyone to hold her gaze for long. Not until she spotted them. A thick metal collar rested against their skin. There posture was that of a beaten dog. The wanderer felt her stomach drop to her ankles. Mages were so powerful in her home city. They were feared and runes were kept away from anyone lesser. This was different. These people around...had power coursing through their veins. But they allowed themselves to be lesser than those who knew nothing of true power...only false power that came from owning gold, land and people.

“They will all die.” She replied softly to Solar. This city had enacted its own demise before the Leveller had even reached its border. They had destroyed their only defence, reduced them to snivelling pups that followed their masters looking for scraps.


The scene that unfolded before them was like nothing she had ever seen before. A man willingly standing before a collar, expecting it to be placed upon his skin. Slaves were not gifted such splendor. The collar was thrust upon you, forced to your knees as the torc was made too twisted to remove yourself. The fabric drifted from her fingertips as her hands curled into fists. The man looked so young, so full of hope and glee at the rune before him. His name was given. Something that everyone in their group cringed at. To give your name so freely was so very strange.

Sharp broken fingernails dug deep into her palm. Her teeth ground into her tongue as she stopped herself from getting involved. The sharp laughter from her right had pain piercing through her palms. Red was laughing. Now. It was obnoxiously loud. Eyes snapped to them, glueing to their flesh, fixating on those who did not know this tradition. Fuck. The harsh shaky breath of Red had the wanderer unclenching her fist. If this woman decided to flee using her rune, the rest of them left would be sitting ducks...in a city filled with angry citizens and restrained yet dangerous mages.

And she was gone. What began as a shuffle morphed into a sprint, knocking into random people. A flurry of Ash swear words burned on her lips as she watched the woman hide in an alleyway. A grunt to her right dragged her attention back to a small burlap sack that hung from Red’s horse. The wanderer waited and then it sounded again. They had stopped. Why had they stopped….why had they not informed him that they had stopped? She waited a moment before taking the horses reins in her hand and walking the beast away from the chaos. The crowd had mostly returned their attention to the young man being dragged from the platform. The priestess was burned into the wanderers mind. The woman who stood without a collar and screeched bloody murder...she reminded her of the Blue lady.

A small click from the side of the wanderers mouth altered the horse to move forward. “Come on. Nothing to see here.” She informed the others with a soft voice. Forcing them to follow her towards the alleyway where Red had bolted towards. What they found was not what the wanderer was expecting. Red crouched close to the beaten dirt path...with her scarf wrapped tightly around the top part of her head. The horse beside her let out a harsh puff of air and the wanderer sighed alongside the creature. “That will not help with blending in.” She said with a rather disgruntled look upon her face. “Do me a favour. Take off the fucking blindfold, walk like a normal person and don’t laugh when people are beaten.”

Her words trailed behind her as the wanderer passed the woman to head down the alleyway. “Just try to be normal for once.” Her biting words left dangling in the air as the wanderer reached into the sack and lifted the loaf half from the bag. His pout spoke volumes. “What did I miss?”

Azazeal849
04-04-2019, 09:41 PM
His pout spoke volumes. “What did I miss?”

“Nothing important.” said Illusion, who was still glancing warily between Red and Wanderer.

The Immortal let out a hmph. His dark eyes roamed the alleyway, where effluvia formed a thick paste in the gutters that lay against the windowless rearsides of two tenement blocks. “Where are we then?”

The Wraith looked around, but aside from some lewd graffiti scratched by the local Risemen the alley seemed too unimportant to merit a sign or name. “We just came off Tanner Street.” he said, gesturing back towards the end of the alley where the bustle of the city could still be faintly heard.

“Oh.” said the Immortal, looking unexpectedly pleased. “We’re practically there, then. The Teacher used to live in a hovel on Steel Street, but since then one of the patrons showed a little mercy and moved him to a hospice.” His eyes roamed past Wanderer to another multi-level building that stood at the other end of the alleyway, looming above a row of workshops and stalls. “That one, in fact.”

They filed out of the evil-smelling alleyway into the adjoining street, onto a road worn into ruts by wagon traffic. A vendor was sizzling skewers of meat on a grimy brazier, and an ironmonger called speculatively out to them when he saw their horses. The beasts whickered and folded their ears back, unhappy with all the noise, but no-one bothered the group as they crossed the road.

“There’s space for the horses round the other side.” the Immortal advised from back inside Red’s saddlebag, raising his voice as high as he dared so that he could be heard. The information proved to be accurate, as threading between the great grey building and its adjoining shop brought them to an open square with a bustling market. Opposite the grey block some kind of administrative building spread its granite wings, with a knot of visibly armed men in padded jackets standing outside.

The hospice had a rotted portico with wooden pillars sufficient to hobble the horses. Solar looked warily at the guards on the other side of the market, and decided that they would be enough to deter any thieves as he set about tying up their mounts and lifting down their saddlebags. They entered with their possessions slung over their shoulders, and Red found herself carrying the Immortal, who had demanded to be let out again and held properly.

It was cold inside despite the heat of the day, the sun struggling to permeate the thick grey stone. The hospice was dim and musty, with old straw covering the floor and worm-eaten doors leading off in rows to either side. The group could hear coughing coming from one of the rooms. Further along was a stone stairway, from which appeared a Risewoman wearing an apron over her loose kalasiris dress.

“We’re looking for the Teacher.” the Wraith demanded without preamble, speaking in Rise.

The woman looked at the huge man suspiciously, and wiped her hands on her apron. “The Teacher cannot be disturbed right now.” she answered in the same language.

“Oh we’ll just come back later then.” the Immortal broke in sarcastically. “Tell him the Immortal is here for him.”

The woman looked past Wraith to see who had spoken, and jumped back when she saw the bodyless head cradled in Red’s hands.

“Oh...oh Risen God.” she blurted, making some kind of religious warding gesture with her left hand. “You’re the…?”

The Immortal groaned and rolled his eyes. “Just do as I say.”

The woman hovered for a moment, plainly too terrified to disobey. “Oh Risen God...” she murmured again. “I’ll...go and wake him. Please, make yourselves comfortable, there are some free rooms on the second floor.”

She practically ran back up the stairs, her barefoot steps receding as the group trudged up into another shabby corridor of crumbling mortar and musty straw, though a few of the doors in this row stood open. Illusion looked at Wanderer and shrugged before pushing aside one of the creaking doors to lay down her saddlebag. The Ambassador hovered by the stairs, seemingly unsure what to do. Solar passed down the row of doors and looked in through each before selecting the last one on the left. Each room was as dingy and threadbare as the rest of the building, but this one had a shuttered window to complement its small bed and table. Solar dropped his bag on the bed, causing the rickety slats to creak, and was just opening the window when he heard Wraith step into the room behind him. The wandering Riseman had discarded his bags, though he had taken out his mask and was now cradling the simple iron face in his hands.

“Get out.” he said simply. “I must pray.”

Solar blinked at him. “It’s my fucking room.”

The bigger man’s face was stony. “Out.”

The young Lightman’s fingers twitched as he thought about summoning a rune, but after a moment he clamped down on the impulse. If they drew attention here, they’d be on the run again, and he’d be even further from knowing if his family was still alive or dead.

“Fine.” he said sourly. “I’ll go to your room and steal all your shit.”

Wraith stood aside to let him go. Then he quietly closed the door, hooked his mask back over his face, and lowered himself to his knees in the mouldering straw. He looked towards the window, which faced west towards the mountains leading to the Beyond, and prayed.


* * * * * *

The group had perhaps fifteen minutes to their own devices before the nurse reappeared. She looked fearfully at the Immortal, still barely comprehending the talking head that the group had carried into her hospice. “The Teacher will see you now.”

“Good.” the Immortal answered brusquely. “I assume you’ve already figured this out, but if you tell anyone we’re here I’ll kill you and solder my head onto your decapitated body. Okay?”

Since he was speaking Rise, only the Wraith understood him as the nurse paled, nodded emphatically and began to stumble up the stairs once more. Immortal met the masked man’s glance with a no, of course not grimace, and was silent as the others carried him up the stairs after the Risewoman. They climbed past a third floor, and then a fourth which formed a single large space instead of a corridor of rooms. Birds nesting in the eaves scratched and fluttered about the roof. A set of sooty-black roof shutters had been hinged back to make a smoke hole, and a bronze brazier was placed below it. The coals in the corroded bowl were giving off more smoke than heat, but they were sufficient to drive some of the building’s persistent chill from the room. A lone figure was hunched in front of the brazier, shapeless beneath a woollen blanket. All they could see was the hair at the back of his head; lank, brittle and mousy-brown, threaded through with strands of grey. The nurse hovered uncertainly for a moment, then slipped past the group to flee back down the stairs.

“That’s him.” the Immortal murmured, looking at the bundled figure.

“So you were right.” Illusion breathed in relief.

“I usually am. Did one of you bring the Book?”

The hump of blankets shifted slightly, as the man within raised his head in response to the Light tongue being spoken by the door. His hands still hovered before the fire; tan, leathery and gnarled. Red and Wanderer could see them trembling with palsy.

A cracked voice speaking Rise emanated thinly from within the blanket. “Is...is that...D-”

“The Immortal.” the Immortal interrupted sternly, and Wanderer and Red felt the air around them prickle. Their bodyless companion continued to speak Light, and the man by the fire shifted to follow suit.

“I heard you were up north, Immortal.” he replied faintly. He spoke the group’s common tongue raspily, but with fluency. “Breaking into our warded troves and killing their Seeker guardians.”

“Actually,” the Immortal corrected pedantically, “Half the time I was killing the Leveler’s men who had gotten there first.”

“Are you here to kill me?” the Teacher asked, without turning round. There was resignation in his voice. “I have nothing left to give you.”

The Immortal narrowed his eyes slightly. “No, I’m not here to kill you. I just want to talk.”

“Forgive me for not rising to meet you. A lifetime of rune use takes its toll.”

“Nothing fucks you harder than time, eh?”

The Teacher shifted slightly beneath his cloak. “You too are...less than you were, Immortal. I can sense it.”

The Immortal pressed his lips into a thin line. “I’ll give you five seconds to change that irritating tone of pity to one of awe and respect.”

The Teacher drew one crooked hand away from the fire to pull the blanket closer around his chest. “There are other mages with you. Who are they?”

“Well there’s Wanderer, she’s the cynical one...Wraith is the overly serious one...Red is the slightly unstable one...Illusion is the bleeding heart. And Solar is the idiot.”

Solar bristled. “My friends call me-”

“Idiot.” the Immortal said flatly.

“And I can feel a different kind of magic too…” The blanket rose and fell as the man within took a breath. “No, it can’t be...a Mer?”

Most of the group glanced at the Ambassador, who was fidgeting against the wall.

“Yep.” the Immortal confirmed. “That’s Ambie.”

The shrunken figure was silent for a moment, struck by evident awe. “They haven’t been seen above water since the Lightmen finished their hideous purge. Describe her for me?”

“She's a mermaid with a human maid's arse.” the Immortal answered bluntly, clearly irritated by the strange question.

The Teacher’s gnarled hand re-emerged from beneath the blanket. “May I feel her?”

This time the Immortal checked. “Feel?” he repeated, narrowing his eyes.

Slowly, and with evident pain, the Teacher shuffled around on his pile of frayed cushions. He shrugged the blanket off his shoulders to reveal a thin, fragile body clothed in roughspun brown. An iron collar was twisted around his neck, seeming to bear him down with the weight. Wraith could read the script flowing around his throat as Riley child of Tigan.

The Teacher’s hair straggled in curtains to either side of his face, falling aside as he raised his head. It was a broad face that had once been strong-jawed and handsome, but now his skin was stretched parchment thin around his hollow cheeks.

His eyes were milky white.

“Oh.” the Immortal said gravely. “Well, add our plan to the list of things that are fucked, then.”

Above the smoke hole, a black bird fluttered up into the air, cawing harshly.


* * * * * *

The Apprentice’s eyes were crow-black, sheened with the magic that Hole had stolen from the Raven. He blinked, and when his eyes reopened they had cleared back to soft brown.

“They’re in the Risen city.” he said, reaching under the shawl that hid his brand-scar to massage his burning neck. They had ridden for six days beyond the walls of their newly conquered city, and used the farsight rune as often as they could stand as they hunted the elusive Lightmen. His lady had commanded it, and so the Apprentice had obeyed, even though he worried at the new order’s figurehead leaving her city so soon after her conquest.

They have the Book.

The Apprentice couldn’t imagine anything truly scaring the Leveler, but he had thrown himself into the search all the same. And now his spine was a twisted wire of pain running up his back, but the hunters had finally flushed their quarry.

“The Risen city…” the Leveler breathed. She rode without armour, but she was still war-painted beneath her riding cloak - a vivid blue slash across her narrowed eyes. “What are they thinking?”

The Burning chuckled low in his throat. “I don’t know. Let’s split their heads open and read their thoughts.”

The Apprentice heard hoofbeats cantering up behind, followed by the sound of metal against oiled leather as the Blademaiden automatically drew her sabre and wheeled her horse round. Apprentice turned his own mount, just in time to see an armoured figure crest the rise behind them and come thundering down the dirt road. His small, dark-coated mare was blowing hard, her flanks lathered with sweat. The newcomer had clearly ridden long and hard. As he drew closer, the Apprentice recognised his plumed bronze helmet.

“Davin.” he greeted neutrally. It was the Apprentice’s nature to see the good in most people, but even he could never quite shake his distrust of the turncoat Lightman.

Davin slowed his panting horse, and clapped her neck as he drew level with the Leveler.

“My lady,” he hailed her as she regarded him questioningly. “I’ve ridden from the Enlightened city, with a message from your Arbiter. He said to tell you the Lightmen are restive.”

He spoke the name as if he no longer counted himself among them, the Apprentice noted. He looked to the Leveler, whose mouth hardened at the unwelcome news.

“If the Blue Lady can’t keep them in line.” she responded, “We will find someone who can.”

The Apprentice rubbed at the leather binding around his wrist. The anxieties that had been twisting and gnawing around his mind throughout the hunt scratched their way to the surface once again.

“My lady.” he spoke up. “It’s not the Blue Lady, it’s us - we’re the foreign invaders. We’re on their streets with weapons, we’re eating rice that should be feeding their own people, and that’s hard enough to come by at the height of the dry season.”

The Leveler never dismissed his words, but her eyes were unswayed as she turned to look at him. “I care somewhat less about what the Lightmen think.”

“What about our men?” the Apprentice argued. “They know the Lightmen hate them, and ever since we arrested the Hunters’ leader, our men have been getting ambushed in the streets. It’s corrosive to their morale. They fought to be safe, not to subjugate another city.”

He knew he was overstepping now, and he could tell it by the way the skin around Leveler’s eyes tightened slightly. But her tone remained conciliatory as she regarded him. He had earned her trust in the gruelling year before they took back the City of Ash, and she had always urged him to say what he believed rather than what he thought she wanted to hear.

That alone sets her apart from the Old Masters and the Enlightened...if she listens.

“How long do they think they’ll remain safe if the Lightmen are a credible threat?” the Leveler reasoned. “They fought for freedom.”

The Apprentice hesitated, torn between what he wanted to say and the instinctive awe that urged him to back down. I am but an Apprentice, and she is the Leveler. Was he arrogant enough to think that he really knew better than she? But he was committed now. And there was one thing about his lady, especially since they had taken the Ash city. A coldness - a relentless, remorseless drive that saw the grand design before the pieces on the board. But those pieces were human; flesh and blood, hope and fear, and though the Leveler now had to carry the weight of ruling thousands, the Apprentice was yet close enough to the humble earth to remind her of it. Because she needed to remember.

I was a slave, less than nothing, and you raised me up. The others you freed reach for your hand too.

“They fought for you.” he said at last, earnestly. “And they need you now.”

The Leveler’s eyes flickered, as if she were about to glance down at her hands holding her stallion’s reins. But she was too strong for that. She held his gaze, unblinking.

“Do you know what these five vagabonds have with them? Do you know what will happen if we let them go free long enough to learn how to use it?” The Apprentice saw her knuckles blanch as she squeezed the reins. “How long will my men stand by me if I’m just another powerless human?”

Apprentice looked back at her - his lady, the one who shouldered the burden that no-one else could, the one who had both the vision and the willpower to force it into being. That took more than rune-strength.

“They don’t think you’re a god.” he said. “You don’t need to pretend to be one.”

For a long moment the Leveler was silent. Then she reached for the pouch hanging from her belt, unbuttoned the flap with a twist of finger and thumb, and drew out a dark runestone shot through with pale swirls. The Scorpion’s rune - another prize, torn from the cold dead hands of another man who refused to bend to the Leveler’s implacable will.

“Here.” She held it out to the group, and seemed to consider for a moment, before pushing it towards Davin. “You too, Lightman. Let’s finish this.”


* * * * * *

A smile creased the Teacher’s worn, withered face.

“I disappoint you?” he asked in response to the group’s brief silence.

“Well,” Illusion admitted, “We were kind of hoping that you could translate a book for us…”

The Teacher sighed, slumping his skeletal shoulders. “I’m afraid I can’t read now, any more than I can cast runes.”

There was a dull thud behind them, and the group turned to see that the Ambassador was still fidgeting, hopping from foot to bare foot among the straw.

“What’s up with you?” Solar asked.

“Too many days.” the Mer mumbled, pushing past him towards the door. “Need water.”

Without further explanation, she exited the room and began to patter down the stairs.

Katrina
04-07-2019, 03:19 AM
Beneath her blindfold, Red was far more interested in Ambie than whatever this weak man had to offer. She pushed through the group from the back of the room and followed Ambie down the the stairs. She called out to the woman she’d heard address the group earlier. “Woman! Water NOW!”

Scottie
04-10-2019, 06:19 PM
This place feels like death. The thought clung to her skull as they ventured up a set of stairs. It held a dull aching energy and the wanderer wanted to limit her time within the grey walls. Free rooms...the idea flew across her head. Nothing was free. Illusion gave her a look before venturing into an empty room. The wanderer did not find her own room. She hovered like a bad smell by the door. Dull green eyes snapped over every surface. The bed was thin and the table was a few scraps of wood knocked together, the room was furnished on a budget...a tight budget.

Her teeth raked her bottom lip as the Illusion got herself comfortable. Placing her bag down on the floor and heading to the window. Opening the curtain a twitch to peer outside. The loaf was still trying to order people around. He was failing in his demands to get Red to take him to a window or take him here. The wanderer shook her head softly and let her gaze drift down the corridor. Most of the other rooms were closed off. The dark wooden doors felt like a hand in her face, barring her from entry. Her time as a “free” woman had filled her with courage. She prided herself on her ability to not back down or feel fear over small things anymore. But the closed door hit a new fear bubbling in her stomach.

One small step towards the door and she tasted blood. Tearing at her bottom lip had caused her to bleed. It was a door. That was she kept repeating silently. It was just a door. It was only two steps away. It would take seconds. She could push the door and rest for a short while. Sleep in a bed and not on wooden floorboards or dirt. Another step and she could feel her fear creeping up her spine. Slowly winding around her chest, tightening its grip on her lungs. The others continued their conversations but they were in the background. Merely muffled voices as she felt her gaze would burn through the wood. One last step. Her limbs felt frozen, a single movement and she would snap the ice holding her muscles rigid.

One last step…

“The Teacher will see you now.”

The sudden intrusion made her twitch. The ice shattered and she let her head turn towards the terrified woman. The wanderer knew that the Immortal had power but what could he had done to cause such terror in a hospice nurse. Whatever he said made the woman turn two shades paler as she stumble away. Even an idiot could tell that the Immortal had threatened her to keep her mouth shut. If the house stank of death, the fourth floor was it’s smoky death ridden centre. The thing before them did not look human. Trembling fingers cast strange shadows on the floorboards. A cracked voice spoke...D. That was noted for later, only because of the stern response of the Immortal.

The conversation batted back and forth like a cat playing with a ball of string. “One of awe and respect” had her attention return to the conversation as she let a small snort leave her lips. The immortal’s ego was really something to write home about. Cynical one. She would take that as a compliment. One does not go through a life like hers without being cynical of everything and everyone you encounter. Of course, Ambie would warrant attention. She was something few had ever seen let alone be in the same room as. Feel her. That had her axe slowly drifting down to her side. Hanging loosely in her grip. She did not know the Rise customs, she did not want to find out the hard way that they thought something strange about Mer’s skin.

The axe nearly slipped from her grip when the man revealed himself. The others concentrated on his pale eyes, a symbol of hopelessness for their cause. All she could focus on was the heavy iron collar twisted around his neck. She could see the raw skin underneath it from where she stood. She could vaguely see a twirled writing atop the hard metal. Obviously it was his name. He couldn’t see, he could barely cast runes...why was the collar still burning into his skin then.

“Need water.” Oh for fucks sake. The wanderer glanced behind her as the Mer vaulted down the stairs, followed swiftly by her puppy dog companion of Red. The harsh demand that burst from the hooded woman’s lips had the wanderer muttering curses underneath her breath.

The axe slumped to the floor and was gently laid down. “I am coming closer.” She announced to the room as she moved slowly towards the huddled mass of blankets. “My name is the Wanderer.” She said, using her words as a way to highlight how close she was to the man. “I cannot help with your lack of sight.” When close enough, she reached a hand out and let her weathered palm brush his shoulder. “But I can help with the other burden pressing down on your skin.”

The milky pale colour of his eyes was staggering up close. The wanderer slowly dropped to her knees to rest beside the man. Her fingertips moved to the collar around his neck. “I can remove it...please let me remove it.” Her words more a plea than a question. “I don’t think you can help with our quest any more. But I can help your days be more comfortable here.” The wanderer placed her hand over the older mans as she glanced back to the group. With a simple nod of her head, she beckoned the illusion over. The one who held the book in her bag. An idea had formed in her mind when she saw the extent of his blindness. “Can you feel me holding your hand?” She asked the man was the Illusion joined her on the floor.

“Can you feel the little scars that litter my skin?” She waited a moment before breathing her suggestion. “Could you read letters if I raised them up like the scars on my hand?” It was a pitiful attempt at helping their cause but it was all she could do. None of them had healing magic enough to cure blindness (this she knew from the exasperated groan of the immortal). But she had to try.

Azazeal849
04-10-2019, 10:18 PM
“But I can help with the other burden pressing down on your skin.” Her fingertips moved to the collar around his neck.

The Teacher flinched a little, as though he were fighting the urge to draw back. He let out a slow breath. “I would be punished if I were to walk outside without it, Wanderer.” he said, sadly. Although, to the Wanderer’s eyes, the man looked barely able to stand, much less leave the grim walls of the hospice.

“I can remove it...please let me remove it.” Her words were more a plea than a question. “I don’t think you can help with our quest any more. But I can help your days be more comfortable here.”

The Teacher let out another slow sigh. “Your accent. You come from the City of Ash.”

His shaking fingers gently probed up Wanderer’s arm, where they found the uneven lines of her old scars.

“Ah.” he withdrew his hand, and bowed his head in understanding. “You once wore a collar yourself, didn’t you?”

He did not wait for an answer, only raised his chin to expose his thin, iron-chafed neck.

“I suppose the chance of me being seen outside in the time left to me is remote.” A sad, but kindly smile deepened the wrinkles lining his face. “If it will ease your conscience, Wanderer, then you may remove it.”

This time he did not flinch away as Wanderer took hold of the iron collar and, channelling her rune-granted strength, twisted it apart. The Teacher cradled the hinged piece of metal as the static prickle of magic dissipated from the air, running a skeletal thumb silently over his name.

“You spoke of a quest.” he said in his thin voice. “Not a word I can picture the Immortal using often.”

With a simple nod of her head, Wanderer beckoned the Illusion over; the one who held the Book in her bag. An idea had formed in her mind when she saw the extent of his blindness. “Can you feel me holding your hand?” She asked the man as the Illusion joined her on the floor.

“Can you feel the little scars that litter my skin?” She waited a moment before breathing her suggestion. “Could you read letters if I raised them up like the scars on my hand?”

The Teacher mulled the idea silently for a few moments. “I could try.” he allowed at length. He raised his head again, long hair straggling either side of his face. “What is this book that you’re so keen for me to read for you?”

“It’s written in Ancient Ash.” Illusion explained, drawing the Book from her satchel. “It’s the Book of Names.”

The Teacher’s mouth fell open, quivering for a moment before he could reply. “The Book of Names...but even you couldn’t…” He looked towards the door where he had last heard the Immortal’s voice, though Illusion had since set him down on the floor, where the frowning head was keeping his peace.

“The Ambassador.” the Teacher breathed out as he mentally solved the riddle. “The Mer gave it to you. But who could be enough of a threat for the Mer to intervene?”

“The Leveler.” Illusion intoned, and thumbed her necklace.

The Teacher pursed his thin lips. “News reached us a few days ago that her army had taken the City of Light and killed the Enlightened Ones. With no mountains to our south, I am told the governors fear that she may march here next.”

“Which is why it’s in your interest to let me get back there.” Solar interrupted vehemently. “And kill the bitch.”

The Teacher was silent for a long moment. “There are old books,” he croaked at last, “In the Ash City library - books that lay out the meanings of Ancient Ash in the newer tongues. It would certainly be faster than trying to teach you those words now. But I will do what I can.” He gestured with a shaking hand. “Do you have a stylus?”

The group exchanged glances, and shrugged helplessly. After a moment though, Illusion snapped her fingers and rose to go hurrying back downstairs. She returned with the nub of candle from her room, which she prodded gingerly into the brazier until the blunt end was coated with grey ash. She put it into the Teacher’s hand and wrapped his fingers around it.

The Teacher leaned forward, swept aside a patch of mouldy straw, and began to draw the candle across the floor. His movements were shaky and the ash marks he left on the stone were ragged, but in a few strokes he had scrawled something that looked a little like the mysterious language of the Book.

“One who equalises.” the Teacher whispered. “Leveler. Find these glyphs in the Book and then let me feel the words that come after it.”


* * * * * *

“Woman! Water NOW!”

Red found the nurse on the ground floor with a bundle of fresh straw in her arms, which she nearly dropped in fright at the witch’s harsh command. Still pale and wide-eyed, she pointed without speaking through a small kitchen, beyond which lay a side entrance.

“U-up street.” the hospice keeper finally managed to say in broken Light. “Turn right. F-f-fountain.”

The Ambassador blinked at the woman, and smiled before hurrying towards the door without further word. Outside the market was still bustling, but the assassin and the Mer turned away from it back into the rutted street they had walked their horses across. Smells of cooking and wood fires competed with the less pleasant smell of a tannery, and with the sickly-sweet odour of sewage rotting in the gutters. Ragged pigeons pecked and squabbled around the edges of the road, and from an open shop front a skinny cat eyed Red with disinterest. Risemen were coming down from their upper-story apartments to open their workshops for the day, but they were busy enough not to look too closely at the two foreigners as they passed.

About five hundred metres on there was, as the nurse had said, another effluvia-thick road branching off to the right. It opened out into a courtyard of stone apartment blocks, and in the centre, as promised, was a public fountain. A time-blurred statue of the city’s strange Risen God stood above it, water gushing from the bowl he held triumphantly above his head to splash down into the circular pool below.

The Ambassador ran forward and pulled down her hood before throwing her whole head into the water. It was fortunate that no-one else was in the courtyard, though Red was keeping a wary eye on the windows above. The Ambassador surfaced with a sigh of relief, water running off the ends of her tangled red dreadlocks to soak her clothes. She cupped some of the fountain water in her hands, and tipped it to her lips before spitting it back into the pool in disgust.

“No salt.” she said by way of explanation, a disappointed look on her face.

Sitting by the pool, letting the clean water drip down her ethereal skin, she fixed her black eyes on Red.

“Why you follow me?” she asked.

Katrina
04-13-2019, 07:21 AM
Behind her blindfold Red relied on her sharpened senses and the slits of light slipping through her scarf. She walked slowly over to where the Mer was sitting beside the fountain, and sat down next to her. She gripped the stone beneath her cloak and felt beads of the water sprinkling into the pool jump onto her bare hands. Another blunt reminder of how naked she was in this environment.

“Well, it would be stupid of me to leave you to walk around here alone. You’ve never been here, and you’re not a fighter.” She angled her face at the ground beneath her feet, and listened to the splashing water behind her. “If someone starts asking too many questions or you make a mistake or even get lost, well it wouldn’t be a good situation.” She let out a slow breath from barely parted lips. “Besides, my master taught me to follow interesting people. Things tend to happen around them. Plus...” she slid one hand along the damp stone to take one of the Mer’s hands. “I’d rather be out here with you, than stay in that depressing death hole surrounded by people who don’t want to be around me, and who I don’t want to be around either. You’re far more fascinating.” One corner of her lips curled slightly up while she gripped the Mer’s hand gently.

Scottie
04-15-2019, 01:47 PM
Punishment for holding the power of runes was very familiar to the Wanderer. She had watched many a slave be torn away from the mines when their fingers accidentally scraped over something they were not meant to touch. Their screams for mercy echoed in her ears as the man let out a slow breath, almost as if he was deflating.

She could not stop herself from flinching back as he had. She let her fingers drop from his collar and instinctively pulled her arms closer to her torso, making herself smaller. The wanderer refused to answer his question but she knew that he already knew the answer.

With the collar free from his neck, she raised a hand and hovered her fingertips over the scarred tissue that remained. When he raised his head, she let her hand drop to her lap. She could not look the others in the eye, she kept her chin low as the book was lain before them. Shaking fingers drew something on the stone floor. Her eyes dragged over the lines he had drawn. She couldn’t make sense of them. It was a simple. A simple word.

Curses danced through her skull. How could she be so stupid? She knew she should not be able to read the word. It was from a tongue forgotten long ago...but she couldn’t even read the words that were etched on wooden plaques in her home village. She couldn’t read anything, she had to rely on others for everything. It made her feel like a child. Illusion helped. The woman kneeling beside her and looking as well made the wanderer feel less childlike.

Dirty thumbs flipped through pages. The lines looked like squiggles, drawings done by children or drunken men. Her attempts felt pitiful but she tried. Some of them matched in small ways. A line here. Or a sharp corner there. But none were 100%. Not until a finger was jabbed onto the paper. Illusion had found something. It looked similar. It looked very similar. Maybe a little bit off here and there but it could have been the shaking hands of the Teacher.


“There...maybe.” Her words barely brushed her lips as she let them free in a small burst of air. “I...I can raise up the word as well to make sure.” She doubted herself too much at times. They needed to be certain. The wanderer took in a deep breath, feeling it push her ribs against her skin. Her fingers pulled towards her palm. The room was filled with dust. It coated every surface, it floated in the air around them and even clung to the eyelashes of the Immortal.

Dragging it to herself was easy. Getting the dust to raise over certain lines was more challenging. Her nose nearly brushed the paper as she concentrated. The veins in her forehead raised up as she tried to get every stroke perfect. She did not need them getting this wrong. They could not get a single part of her name wrong or they could all die. Their lives rested on her silly dust.

“T...There.” She took the teachers hand gently and dragged it to the page. The dust had piled up and was holding place so that his fingertips could drag over the letters. The veins in her forehead did not fade, all her concentration remained on the dust letters.

Azazeal849
04-17-2019, 10:43 PM
The young swineherd dug his shovel back into the night’s refuse, already feeling the strain in his limbs even though it was still the first hour of the day. Penned up in the enclosure, the animals seemed more unsettled than usual, squawking and snuffling around agitatedly as he tried to move between them.

Then he sensed it too. It felt like spiders crawling across his skin, chilling his spine and setting his teeth on edge. He knew exactly what it was, and yet he froze, his brain simply refusing to process the fact.

The Five Evil Signs...spots before the eyes, a ringing in the ears, blood on the tongue…

Rune-sign. He realised he had dropped his shovel. Too late, far too late, he scrambled to pick it up and defend himself.

There was no audible screech or bang, but there was a heavy thrum that curled around his ribcage like a physical force. The pigs went wild, squealing and bolting. One collided with the swineherd’s legs and knocked him down amid the pungent nightsoil.

From the tilted angle of the floor, he saw them step out of nowhere, as if the air had simply parted like a curtain and let them through. There were seven of them. Four men - one in red, one in white, one in bronze armour and a black-plumed helmet. The fourth was the biggest, with a face ravaged by nightmare scars. One of the women was armoured, with long hair that shimmered even in the sheltered sty. Another carried a long sword at her waist, and her face and body were as hard as the metal of her blade. All of them were collapsing in heaps, weakened by the sorcery that had brought them here. They were stumbling, falling, vomiting...all except one.

The seventh figure looked down at the swineherd as he struggled to rise, and was knocked flat once again by the stampeding pigs. The figure’s gaze was sapphire blue and sapphire hard - worsened rather than softened by the slash of blue chalk that bisected her face. She was beautiful, terrible; an angel painted from the imagination of demons.

She spoke words he didn’t understand, and the shadows in the corners of the sty came alive and crawled down the walls to coil around his throat.


* * * * * *

“I’d rather be out here with you, than stay in that depressing death hole surrounded by people who don’t want to be around me, and who I don’t want to be around either. You’re far more fascinating.” One corner of her lips curled slightly up while she gripped the Mer’s hand gently.

The Ambassador looked down at her held hand; as ever, slightly confused by the gesture of intimacy.

“Sometimes,” the Mer said in her stilted Light, “Must work with people don’t want to be around. Why else Enlightened call Mer? Why else Mer answer?”

The Ambassador gave one of her impish grins. The hand that Red wasn’t holding trailed absent-mindedly across the fountain pool, sending out ripples to clash with the churning of the water spout.

“Strange.” the Mer said again after a moment, looking down at Red’s gloved hand folded over her own. “Landwalkers kill Mer...but you look with wonder.”

She paused, contemplating something behind her black-in-black eyes. Water dripped from her matted hair, smelling faintly of the sea as it leached salt from them.

“Sometimes Mer miss land. It is...comforting to know that some of you would welcome us.”

Under the Ambassador’s fingers, the surface of the water suddenly vibrated. Red felt it too, a familiar jerk in the pit of her stomach. Somewhere nearby, someone had cast a powerful rune.


* * * * * *

“T...There.” She took the teachers hand gently and dragged it to the page. The dust had piled up and was holding place so that his fingertips could drag over the letters. The veins in her forehead did not fade, all her concentration remained on the dust letters.

“She’s smarter than she lets on, you know.” the Immortal observed quietly from the floor, speaking to the Wraith who had sat down cross-legged to watch the proceedings.

The big man grunted agreement. “She’s starting to let on.”

The Teacher’s sallow brow was furrowed with concentration as he probed the raised lines of dust with his thin, trembling fingers.

“Such small letters…” he cursed under his breath. “That might be an ee I think...or perhaps an ai. Does the mark have one line across the top, or two?”

A sudden thumping sound from below was heavy enough to carry all the way up to the attic room.

Illusion jumped up, nearly scattering the Book and Wanderer’s carefully-laid ashes. “What was that noise?”

“I’m guessing the door.” Solar snarked.

“Just the door?” Wraith said acidly. “This is the most depressing building in the city. Who’d be sneaking around out there?”

“Probably someone wanting to know why there’s five horses tied up outside.” Solar rolled his eyes. “I’ll get rid of them.”

He hurried away down the stairs, and heard voices as he reached the ground floor corridor. They came not from the front door, where he had left the horses, but from the back. An interior door blocked his view, a thick panel of rotting wood held together by the bronze bands that crossed it. There was a lock, but the door stood ajar. Solar put on his most intimidating face and jerked the door open.

Beyond the door was a kitchen, too small for the number of rooms the hospice held, and as run-down as the the rest of the building - only now a grease of black smoke added to the mustiness of the stone walls. The hearth was still full of old coals, and unwashed bowls were stacked everywhere. The outer door was open, and there were people inside the room.

He saw the hospice nurse, lying in a broken-doll tangle on the floor. Unconscious or dead, he couldn’t tell. He saw a woman standing over her, a woman who was casting off her riding cloak to free her arms for combat. He saw a flash of red robes and a plumed helmet, and that was all he needed to see.

“Mother fucker!” he blurted in alarm, and rammed the door closed, intending to sprint back up the stairs and yell at the others that their enemies from the rune mines had somehow tracked them down once more.

He never got the chance.

The Leveler ripped her fist back and the door burst off its hinges, shivering to pieces as it was sucked backwards into the kitchen. The splintered boards hung there, spinning in the air. Through them Solar could see the Leveler, her dark eyes boring into his behind a streak of blue chalk. For a moment she held her clenched fist back, and then she threw it forward.

The shards of wood ripped towards him on a howling wind that scooped him up and flung him back against the corridor wall. And then they plunged into him - his chest, his stomach, his shoulders, his hands - staking him to the wall like a sacrificial bird in the snake-priest’s rituals.

Solar couldn’t move, he couldn’t even think - it was pure, blinding, freezing agony; as cold as the stakes driven into his flesh, as sharp as their splintered edges. He opened his mouth to scream, but all that poured from his lips was blood.

“Those were their horses for sure.” Blademaiden said as she stepped into the kitchen.

Redmoor limped up to Solar and patted down the young man’s bloodied clothes with all the emotion of a hunter stripping a carcass. “He doesn’t have the Book.”

Solar’s pain-wracked face twisted with a fleeting look of defiance. He tried to speak, but only coughed instead, dribbling another stream of blood down his chin.

The Leveler growled in irritation, and snapped her fingers. The impaling shards jerked back, sliding free with a sound like a melon being peeled open. They hung in the air for a moment, blood-wet, then clattered to the floor. Solar collapsed with them, shivering and sobbing and vomiting blood.

“Hole,” Leveler rumbled the command, ignoring the dying wizard. “The side door was open. Scout the area for any more of them. Lightman, you stay down here - cover the windows and make sure no-one else interferes. Blademaiden, clear the lower rooms.” Leveler clenched her fists and a silencing rune pulsed through the building. The air wobbled, and clay bowls began to rattle on the ancient table. She started towards the stairs with long, murderous strides. “The rest of you, with me!”

The Burning One grinned a hideous grin, flames already cackling around his fingertips. “I’ll flush them out.”


* * * * * *

“Ee, I’m sure of it.” the Teacher said as Wanderer led him on, Illusion grasping both their shoulders in encouragement. “And then either a soft v or an r...”

A low thrum shuddered across the attic room, scattering the dust that Wanderer had placed beneath the Teacher’s fingertips. The air around them suddenly felt dense and heavy. When Wanderer looked up she could see motes of dust hanging in the air, spinning in slow circles, glinting like cold smiles as they caught the light.

“What…?” Illusion began.

“Silencing rune.” the Immortal snapped. “Someone’s about to make a mess they don’t want the rest of the city hearing.”

The Wraith rose, dragging his paired blades from their sheathes. “Enemies.”

No sooner had he said it, then a hissing roar licked up the stairway, dragging an orange glow in its wake. The Teacher let out a cry and fell back onto his hands, as the air around them began to shriek with magic. The glow beneath them became a furious column of fire twisting its way up the stairs, and at its centre was a man, a hideously scarred man who was sweeping his arms like a conductor as the fire curled and boiled around him. He locked his eyes onto the group and let out a bark of triumph.

“Immortal!” he snarled, throwing a hooked hand out towards the head lying in the middle of the floor. Fire boiled across the space between them.

“You can fuck right off.” the Immortal snarled back.

There was a blast of light, and the fire snuffed out as if overwhelmed by a hurricane. The roof beams splintered, and chips of wood were sent blasting across the floor. Wanderer was instantly flash-blinded, but she blinked away the swimming stars just in time to see the fire-blackened corpse on the landing drop to its knees and topple back down the stairs.

“Seriously.” the Immortal raged. “They were going to try and kill me. The Immortal. THAT was their plan?”

Angry shouts came from below them, and runic missiles jetted up the stairs to shatter the stones of the landing.

“Not was, you insufferable bastard.” Wraith growled, scooping up the head, “Still is. We need to go!”

Illusion was on her feet, snatching up the Book. Unlike the Wraith, her weapons were still downstairs. On the floor the Teacher had slumped onto one elbow, blind eyes staring, open mouth trembling like a landed fish gasping for air.

“Power…” the crippled mage whimpered, “So much power…”


* * * * * *

The wall stones began to groan and creak as the Leveler climbed the stairs, pale frost spreading like a spectral cloak in her wake. The trails of ice swirled into claw-hooked rune shapes, and the air sang with building power.

The ice was met by fire from above, a flash that spilled red lightning down the stairs. A body came tumbling with it, so badly burned that it was only when it crunched to a stop on the lower landing that the Ashmen realised who it was.

“No…” the Apprentice gasped, his gaze trapped by the mutilated ruin of the Burning One’s face. The Burning’s own eyes were gone, reduced to red pits that were weeping bubbling streaks of jelly down his blackened cheeks.

“The Immortal.” Leveler snarled, and threw up a hand to conjure a glowing barrier that made the air around them shriek. “Get behind me!”

The stairway thrummed, splitting the ice rime as Blademaiden added her own shimmering screen to the Leveler’s defence. The dark-skinned Ashwoman dragged her sword from its scabbard, but spun as she felt a second surge of magic behind and below her.

Davin was there, red corposant sizzling across his bronze armour. He was stooping beside the Burning’s ruined corpse.

“What are you doing?” Blademaiden spat. “You were told to guard the door.”

“That I was.” Davin agreed, rising. In his hand was a blood-red runestone. “And this will help, it will.”

Blademaiden hissed through her teeth. “Have you no respect for the dead?”

“I understand you didn’t like him much either.”

“Regardless, that rune is his!” The air between them prickled with static, as if responding to Blademaiden’s animosity.

“It became mine when I stole it from him.”

Blademaiden did not have the time to explain to him how far that was from the way property law worked. Her companions were already pushing up the stairs.

“Kill them!” Leveler shouted, “Kill them and take the Book!”

Scottie
04-26-2019, 12:39 PM
Dust drifted from the wooden rafters above them. It danced through the air and landed on the page beside the older man’s gnarled fingers. That wasn’t the door. Unless the door had been flung against a wall. “Try again please.” Her desperate plea gained the teacher's attention once more. Dry fingertips dragged over the raised dust as he concentrated on the same letters. Solar would see what was happening. He’d probably return upstairs with a smug story about how he stopped an intruder when really the sound came from one of the nurses dropping something.

The letters were too jumbled. What could be an R….could also be a V? The dust she was concentrating on shattered and slid from the page like it was water. A searing headache trembled through her forehead, building upwards as the air seemed to choke them. Everything seemed blurred. Every voice seemed distant. All she could concentrate on was the pain thumping through her forehead. Then a screeching noise followed by a glow. It echoed around her skull, the noise grating on the bone as she tried to pull her vision back together. A man. Heat licked her skin and then he was gone. She could see nothing.

A harsh curse word left her cracked lips. The man beside her whimpered like a beaten dog and further attacks soared up the stairs.

“Block the door.” The command was wrenched from her throat as she glared at the Wraith. The man faltered for a second and a deep growl started from her stomach. “Block. The. Fucking. Door.” He moved, that was all she needed to see.

“They have downstairs. They know we are up here. So the stairs are out.” The book was held tightly to Illusions chest. Beaten shoes scraped against the floor as she stood. A burning gaze scorched the room as if she was expecting an exit to suddenly appear. The window was too small. They would not all survive the fall. They needed every bit of help they could get.

“Down we go then.” It was as if her body had been taken over by another. The fearful woman who had sat next to the Teacher, trying and failing to read as her hands shook was gone. The woman who bent to grip her axe had a hard shell over her features, her posture took on that of a trapped dog ready to do whatever she had to, she had not come this far to die in an attic.

Her previous statement had confused the Illusion, who had curled herself around the book. “B...But the stairs…”

The sentence was swiftly halted by a stern look. The woman was right, the stairs were blocked. “Fine.” Her words a defiant fuck you to those screeching on the other side of the door. Behind her there was a crash as Wraith overturned the brazier. Both of her frail hands gripped her axe, raising it above her head as she slammed it towards the floorboards beneath them.

A gentle whistle brushed her ears as the axe came sharply downwards. A deep exhale left her chest as a sharp tingling sensation forced itself up from her fingertips. That comfortable pleasing sensation echoed through her arms and forced itself down her back. The axe made contact, splintering the wood as if it were mere paper. It was enough of a break through the wood that the room below could be vaguely seen through glimmers of light flecking upwards. The Teacher remained in a huddled mass as the axe was raised again. “You all need to be ready to jump. We have to move swiftly or they will find us before we get through the next floor.”

The wood protested loudly, a sickening crack as she easily created an escape for them. “Wraith. You first.” She did not wait for the response she knew was coming. “Illusion is next, we need someone down there with her to protect the book.”

“Hurry.” Illusion urged her.

“Go. I have the door.”

The flimsy door was stiffened by the table Wraith had upended against it, and against that was the toppled brazier, but there was no question of it holding for long. Smouldering coals were scattered from the brazier, blackening the floorboards and sending curls of smoke rising from the dirty straw. Someone was already ramming their booted foot into the door from the other side.

The axe was swung between her fingers. If she had to go out, she was going out on her feet. She would get blood before the light left her eyes.

Behind the door she heard a muffled shout to step aside, and then the air around her prickled with cold static as a rune spell began to exert its force on the door. Just as Illusion disappeared down the hole there was a splintering crack, and one of the wooden boards spalled away from the door to skittle across the floor.

It was followed by a blinding flash - one which did no harm that Wanderer could feel, but which ruined her sight with dancing coloured lights. A simple illumination rune, designed to dazzle and disorientate; one that she had seen before, flashing a signal outside the ruined city wall.

“Wanderer!” she heard the Apprentice shout in Ash. She heard more splintering wood as the young mage struggled to clamber through the broken door. It was a mistake - instead of striking again he had hesitated, giving her a moment to clear her vision.

“Move.” she screeched backwards to the huddled whimpering mass of the Teacher. Her sight was gone and she raised her axe holding it straight out before her. If she could, she would push someone back and hope her sight came back before she needed to properly swing. She hadn’t expected to hear her name through the wreckage. It was her name, it was spoken in her tongue. Whoever had spoken was now attempting to come through the door. Her vision steadily returned, a blurred face was all she could see.

The Wanderer jutted the flat smooth edge of the axe under the chin of the Apprentice. It would harm him but the cold metal would be enough to silence his attempts at speaking. “You do not say my name.” She growled softly at the man. “I am not here. You do not see me.”

She let her axe drift away from his chin, almost as if she was letting him walk away. But she trusted few in this world. The flat portion of the axe was thrust against his chest, not at full strength but with enough force to topple him backwards. The young mage thumped back against the door, scattering coals and loose wood. A dark-skinned woman trying to climb through after him shouted and fell back. Keeping her axe raised before her, Wanderer risked a glance behind her towards the space that the Teacher had been inhabiting. The crippled mage had groped his way back to the wall and had now flattened himself against it.

“It doesn’t have to end this way.” the Apprentice warned her through gritted teeth as he pulled himself up. “Just give us the Book!”

The Teacher had attempted to flattened himself against the wall, like he was trying to blend in amongst the cracked dirty surface. A sharp breath was dragged through her nostrils as she let her gaze return to the Apprentice. The smallest of smirks cracked onto her lips as her fingers tightened around the axe. Flecks of dust dragged themselves from the fallen wood and broken furniture. They hung in the air, dancing gently in the streams of light that crept in from above. The building was covered in dust, every single corner had mountains of it which shook and rose up like the others.

“What Book?”

The dust shot forwards towards the Apprentice and the woman behind him. Clinging to every surface they could. Burrowing into open wounds, slinking up nostrils and coating eyes and tongue in a murky grey film. This time, the thrust of her axe did not hold back. It was meant to throw the man off his feet, forcing him backwards as much as she could. Both of her opponents were cursing as they fell back. Apprentice clenched his fist and an undirected tug of force sent the table side-swiping across the floor, narrowly missing Wanderer. The table hit the wall and burst apart with a crunch.

Time was of the essence. With her axe gripped tightly in her right hand, she spun towards the Teacher. Still he cowered against the wall and her patience was close to breaking...she gave up in tempting him to leave. It was better her to beg his forgiveness later. Gripping his right arm with her left hand, she threw him over her shoulder with the ease of a farmer throwing a bag of feed. Every step had to be perfect, if she faltered at all they would fall. The Wanderer didn’t glance up at her enemies, she leapt through the hole in the floorboards. Her faith was fully put into her runes and her companions.

She landed with a thud in what had been Illusion’s room, the impact almost buckling her legs. Illusion hauled her up, steadying her.

Footsteps thumped above, and the two enemy mages appeared at the hole above, only to reel back as Wraith thrust up one of his swords and sent a discouraging blast of fire flaring from its point.

“Downstairs!” Wanderer heard the female mage shouting. “They’re downstairs!”

Still gripping the sword in one hand and the Immortal’s head in the other, Wraith shouldered open the door and sprinted along the corridor towards the stairs. “Come on!”

The man had let out a sharp grunt when her knees gave way beneath her. Catching her breath, she sorted the man on her shoulder. “It’s better that I keep you this way. Trust me.” She told him as she gripped his legs tight to her chest. The Wanderer gestured with a sharp shake of her head to get the Illusion to go in between them. She had the book, she needed to be protected.

“We...we need to get outside.” If they escaped out to the street, then they would have more protection. The floorboards strained against her new weight but she attempted to move quickly. Her knees and legs felt tender and she prayed that they were not strained or broken.

The thumping footsteps told all that they were being followed. They would soon be trapped… It was fear that pumped through her veins and kept her moving. She had killed people before, watching the blood dribble from their throat as their grip on her slackened...but this was different. These people had runes, they had power, who knows what they could do to them. They needed to split them up if they had any chance of surviving.

“Illusion...We need a distraction.” Her voice carried to the woman before them.

Illusion turned to look back, taking a moment to process the order. Then she smiled, and the smile broke into three as beams of light slid and stretched out of her skin, coalescing into two new Illusions who took off running in opposite directions - one back towards the bedroom, the other up the stairs while the rest of them hurried down. There were shouts, and the bangs of rune magic splitting the air. The din covered the sounds of their footsteps as they tumbled down to the ground floor. The hallway was deserted but littered with stones and broken wood, and Solar lay at the centre of it all, slumped beneath the streaks of blood he had dragged down the wall. His face was turned towards them, crazed with ugly red patterns where the blood had run from his nose and mouth.

The Teacher’s feet hit the opposite wall, making the old man yelp as Wanderer spun to watch the Illusion run off...well one of her. It took her a moment to realise what had happened and it took the presence of the wraith for the wanderer to determine which Illusion was the right one to follow. Another flight of stairs, the destroyed hallway and their exit was in sight. But so was Solar. The mangled mess of the man who had decided to rush out and defend them. The cocky loudmouth lay dying on the floor. A sharp curse left her lips as she bent down beside him. Her axe rested against his thigh as she placed a hand on his shoulder. It wouldn’t have been enough, but a small sensation of cool water trickled through his veins. A small relief from the pain that was slowly killing him.

“Solar.” She could see his eyes twitch behind his eyelids when she said his name. There was something that she could not forget about him. The one story he had told that made him seem human and not a walking talking egotistical dickhead. “Give me your brother’s name. I’ll find him and tell him what you did to save him.” He had to be quick. The ruse the Illusion had started would only last so long.

“Wanderer?” Solar slurred, bloody foam bubbling at his lips.

“Please.” she asked, the urgency clear in her voice as her rune of healing dissipated into a harsh pain in her chest.

One of Solar’s eyes half-opened. The other was gummed shut by the blood trickling across his face. “Niall.” he whispered. “His name’s Niall. Run, for fuck’s sake…”

A bolt of light slashed overhead as Wraith cast a rune towards the stairwell. The dark-skinned woman was there, teeth gritted as she put up a hand that shattered the bolt against an invisible wall. She carried a long sabre, the blade running with actinic light as she raised it to point towards Wraith, marking him.

The Apprentice was a few steps behind her on the stairway, hands clawed to control the chunks of stone that were drifting above his head, ready to throw.

“Get back!” the Immortal snapped in warning to the group.

A dome of white light swept outwards, passing through Wanderer and the others, roaring towards the stairs.

Where it broke with a sound like a thunderclap, dissolving into stars and vanishing.

A third figure appeared on the stairs - cloaked, slender, long-haired; with pale skin and dark eyes slashed with a line of blue chalk. The shadows in the staircase began to writhe and crawl down the walls.

“Oh for fuck’s sake.” The growl came from deep within her chest. Her right hand took the small pouch that Solar had in his hand, tucking the bag into her pocket as she let out a long shaky breath. The Wanderer raised herself from her kneeling position and turned towards the group who stood on the staircase. The Teacher was still over her shoulder and she had her axe once more in her right hand. Her left hand moved from gripping the legs of the Teacher to the shawl of the Illusion. One sharp tug and she pulled the woman towards the door.

“That the best you can do?” Her words were a playful statement, but they were not aimed at those on the staircase. Her head tilted to her right as she aimed her words at the Immortal. If he was anything like any of the egotistical men she had met in her days...he would not tolerate such a remark.

The look in her eyes could be described as rage towards those on the stairs, or perhaps it was just gut-wrenching disappointment at the Apprentice. She had thought there might be a shred of light still within him. It was the briefest of glances but she took in their features. She would not miss these faces if they appeared in a crowd. Hoisting the heavy body of the Teacher further onto her shoulder, she turned and followed the Illusion out of the building. Her body was getting slower but she would push herself onwards, they needed to get to safety before she could collapse.

“Get a horse. Now.”

Her ears popped as she stepped beyond the door’s threshold, and the oppressive fog of the silencing spell lifted. The world suddenly seemed brighter, more alive. The Risemen market outside still bustled obliviously, under the shadow of the looming government building.

“Hold it shut!” the Immortal snapped, as loud as he dared, as Wraith heaved the front door of the building closed. Something thumped hard against it from the other side, and Wanderer saw the door vibrate on its hinges. Cradled in Wraith’s hands, the Immortal’s eyes were screwed closed. Smoke was beginning to ooze from between the door’s split planks.

Illusion vaulted up onto the back of one of the horses, causing the beast to whinny in alarm and tug at the rope tethering it to the portico. Reaching down towards Wanderer, she hauled the Teacher up behind her. The crippled mage was weakly demanding to know just what the hell was going on.

Illusion reached down again to jerk free the knot hobbling the horse, only to feel a hand seize her bridle.

“Hello lovely girls.” Davin smirked as he stepped out from the shadows of the portico. “Where are you off to in such a hurry, like? Why don’t you climb down, and all the fine people around here can go about their day without a scene happening, hmm?”

He grinned at Wanderer through the T-visor of his helmet, as if daring her to do something in full view of the mage-hating Risemen.

The shock that had crossed her features for a mere moment was swiftly replaced by rage. Her face near contorted in anger, “Take your hand off the horse.” She growled as she moved closer to the man. The wanderer could only hope that the Wraith could hold the door a little longer. With no response from smug git, she moved closer away from the horse so that he had to choose between her or the Illusion.

She knew that Davin was aware of Cian’s rune, and he should have been wary of it. But instead of pulling away from her, he held up his hand. For the briefest moment, flames glinted and licked around his fingers.

“Ah ah ah, strong girl.” the mercenary leered. “We’re on an even footing now, I think.”

Illusion glanced down at Wanderer for some kind of signal. Beside them Wraith was still holding the door, which was still smoking and creaking as the Immortal’s magic wrestled against whatever horrendous runecraft was battering it from the opposite side.

The wanderer tried her hardest to disguise her surprise but it flickered across her dull green eyes. Even footing. “Are we?” She replied softly. She could feel Illusions eyes on her, waiting for a sign. What sign? How could they get out of this? They were trapped between those causing the door to scream in protest and this dickhead. People were stuck in their own little worlds, the briefest of glances was given their way but their attention was gone as soon as it had arrived. He didn’t want a scene….She’d give him a scene then.

Raising her left hand, she let her eyes go wide. She let his smile grow as fear covered her features. Creeping up around the feet of Davin was a small wind tunnel of dust. Spinning around him and congregating around his upright hand. A blood curdling scream left her lips. It was louder than expected but her mother had always said she had the lungs of a grown man at age four.

“MAGE!”

The word left her lungs and hung around them. She had memorised the word in the correct tongue after Wraith had said it, she wanted to be able to know if someone had found her out. The wanderer moved backwards, immediately taking on the role of a frightened meek woman.

Too late, Davin’s smile melted into a look of alarm. He shook his arm fiercely, trying to throw off the small vortex of dust, but it only drew more attention from the market patrons who had spun towards Wanderer’s sudden scream. They echoed it, and some began to run. Others rushed towards the dust-shrouded Lightman.

Everything happened at once. Illusion, seeing Wanderer’s plan, kicked her horse as soon as Davin let go of the reins to punch a Riseman who had tried to grab his arm. Wraith abandoned the door and bolted for a horse of his own, trusting that in the confusion no-one would look too closely at his sheathed swords or the severed head under his arm. Davin had drawn his own sword now, and was cursing another aspiring Riseman hero as he re-sheathed the blade in the man’s belly. Now almost everyone was screaming, and the armed guards at the other end of the square were fighting their way through the crowd.

Wanderer caught a flash of dust-stained white as the Apprentice came pelting round the side of the hospice, the Ash mages seemingly having abandoned the rune-barred door for the kitchen exit just a few seconds too late. She saw the tawny-skinned mage skid to a halt as in front of them Davin made possibly the worst decision he could have chosen. Surrounded and panicking, he used his ill-gotten runes.

There was a sharp roar of displaced air, and three of the Risemen thrashed away screaming, their clothes and hair ablaze. A guard hurled his spear, which smacked heavily into Davin’s armoured shoulder.

The Apprentice started forward. The Blademaiden’s hand on his shoulder dragged him back.

“Leave him!” the Ashwoman warned.

The Apprentice looked to the Leveler as she came striding down the narrow alley towards them, fists clenched, teeth bared. She wasn’t looking at Davin. She wasn’t even looking at Wanderer and the others. She was looking over her Apprentice’s head towards the flat-roofed buildings ringing the square, and with a whisper of wind, she vanished.

The Wanderer did not stay to see the outcome, but the smell of burning flesh and screams told her it had ended badly for Davin. Too many people were coming her way for her to suddenly clamber onto a horse, so she ran. As fast as she could in her current condition. It was as if she were a newborn foal, her legs stumbling over each other. People flung themselves past her, fear coursing through their veins at the sight of rune power.

Her vision was doubling as the heaviness began in her chest. “W.. Wait..” Her pleas were lost in the sea of screams. Everything slowed down, she needed to find somewhere to hide or she would collapse in full view of the screaming masses. The Wanderer was easily jostled from side to side by the fleeing citizens. Her breathing grew laboured when a hand wrapped itself around her forearm. Wraith hauled her swiftly onto his horse, depositing her behind him. She slumped forward and pressed her forehead into the thick material of his tunic as he pushed down the alley.

Azazeal849
05-05-2019, 04:04 PM
Wanderer slumped forward and pressed her forehead into the thick material of Wraith’s tunic as he pushed down the alley.

“Left!” the Immortal was calling from under the big man’s arm as they clattered back onto the main street, “Go left you big ape! We need to head for the north gate!”

“Step aside!” Wraith barked in Rise, swerving their horse down another side street to avoid running right over a family who were huddled paralysed in the middle of the road. Another man in their way yelped and reeled aside, straight into the brown filth of a gutter. His cart overturned, scattering its cargo of street food.

Wraith cursed as he urged their panting horse onward. “Where the fuck did the others go?”


* * * * * *

Illusion clung on with a white-knuckle grip. She had given up on the flapping reins and was lying almost flat against the horse’s neck, her fingers viced around the bridle. She could hear the horse blowing in loud snorts, and behind her the Teacher was clutching at her with desperate, bony hands.

“Where are we?” the blind man wailed.

“Being chased!”

“Who’s chasing us?”

“The Leveler!”

“Oh, Risen God…”

People screamed as they scrambled out of the way of Illusion’s onrushing horse. She felt the Teacher clinging desperately to her as he nearly slipped out of the saddle.

“The translations I was telling you about!” the Teacher blurted, “In the great library, in Ash! I’ve seen them!”

“Great!” Illusion shouted ironically, “But tell me later!”

The air whipped by, clawing at her hair and roaring in her ears.

“Listen!” the Teacher implored her, “You have to listen…”

It was all Illusion could do to keep them both mounted, never mind pay attention to the Teacher’s words. She was no horseman, and found herself simply holding on for dear life as her mare swerved her own way around the milling pedestrians, twitching left before plunging down a side street where the the close-pressed buildings were joined by rickety overpasses. Illusion had to duck and pull the Teacher down with her, lest they both lose their heads to the rotting wooden beams as they swiped past.

“A scroll!” The Teacher insisted, grabbing her wrist. “A vellum scroll in a golden case, kept in the section with the crab mosaic on the floor. You can use it!”

The air around her, already screaming, suddenly fizzled with static. A crawling sensation prickled up Illusion’s arms, and the yelling of the Risemen shrank away into a single, high-pitched, keening note.

She looked up just in time to see a shadow slither down across the walls of a tenement, coiling and inky black. It lashed around the chest of the Teacher and became suddenly, horribly solid. Illusion felt his weak grip clawing at her back for a desperate second before he was yanked backwards and up. The old man let out a cry as he left the saddle and was snatched away, vanishing from sight.

“No!” Illusion screamed, looking around her frantically as her horse galloped on through the fleeing, scattering crowd. “Teacher!”

She turned forward again just in time to see another bridge spar rushing up to meet her. It struck her in the face with a white flash that turned blood red, and Illusion felt herself falling from her saddle, before a heavy thud turned everything black.


* * * * * *

She wasn’t sure how long she blacked out for, but it couldn’t have been long because there was still running and screaming going on all around her. She could hear it, although she couldn’t see it. Her world was night black, shot through with frizzons of white corpse-light every time a misfiring nerve sent another twitch through her abused muscles.

“Sage.”

It was her name. Her real name, not the shameful one she had taken in service to a false goddess. Her father had been so proud.

How quickly that pride had soured the moment she and her mother showed a glimmer of doubt. She felt sad that she would now never be able to avenge her mother’s murder. Her father’s face floated before her, grinning because he knew he had won.

“Sage.”

Her name again. Who could know it, she wondered. No mage willingly gave up the one thing that rendered them helpless. Then she remembered - the sea, the exchange. Their names for the Book. Fucking Mer, Solar had complained.

He was dead now. That made her sad too. He would never know if his parents and brother were alive or not. Wanderer had made a promise though. She liked Wanderer. She hoped that the other Ashwoman would succeed where she had so comprehensively failed.

“Sage.”

It was the Fucking Mer who was speaking to her, she realised. With an effort, she forced her eyes open. It hurt, but only a little compared to the rest of his body. Just one miserable stanza amid a whole symphony of pain. The Ambassador was kneeling over her, a hood pulled up over her salt-crusted dreadlocks. Her dark, liquid eyes stared down from within the shadows. She looked drained; shaken.

“Ambie…” Illusion burbled, and then remembered when she had last seen the Mer. “Where’s Red?”

The Mer’s pallid face smoothed out, until it showed no expression at all. “Fighting so I escape. Where Teacher?”

Illusion felt a solid rock settle in her stomach, one that had nothing to do with the impact that had thumped the breath out of her lungs. “I’m sorry...I...I think he’s gone.”

The Ambassador locked her with a wide-eyed stare. “Still have Book?”

Illusion flopped an uncooperative hand around her belt until she found her satchel. The rest of her saddlebags might be gone with her horse, but the Book was still there, a reassuring weight against her hip.

The Book. The realisation gave her a new resolve. She had to get it back to the others, along with the Teacher’s final words, or their cause was worse than doomed. She grasped blearily upward until she managed to seize a handful of the Ambassador’s cloak.

“Wraith and Wanderer.” she croaked, the urgency of her mission lending clarity to her voice. “Which way did they go?”

“Ride by.” the Ambassador motioned with a pale hand. “That way.”

Illusion sat up groggily, and tried to orientate herself by the shadows spilling across the grey buildings. “North.” she decided. “They’re heading for the north gate. Come on.”


* * * * * *

Below was chaos, but on the roof all that could be heard was the rasping breath of the Teacher. People never thought to look up - especially people who were panicking to evade rushing horses and the fire-blasts of a surrounded, dying wizard. Leveler had not seen which direction the traitor Illusion had ridden off in, because her head was splitting with blinding pain; it was all she had been able to do to dump the old man down on the roof, where he now slumped helpless against the balustrade.

The old man wheezed through cracked ribs, a painful accompaniment to the fever-pitch screaming and shouting that drifted up from below. The Leveler groaned, grinding the heel of her hand into her eye in an attempt to clear the painful lights swimming across her vision.

“That’s how it starts, you know.” the old man rasped, in passable Ash. “One day you’ll be as blind as I am. You need to use force to maintain your power, but how much longer can you keep it up?”

“I have the Moonstone.” the Leveler rounded on him angrily. “I don’t have your limits, Teacher. I can change my form. I can undo any damage the runes do to me.”

“And yet, I can hear that you are in pain.”

In spite of herself, the Leveler flexed her dead right arm. She pushed her nails one by one into the ball of her thumb, and felt nothing.

“Where is the Book?” she growled.

“With the Ashwoman, I expect. I’m afraid you have snared the wrong prisoner.”

The Leveler’s numb hand became a fist. She began to pace, back and forth across the roof. The glaring sun did nothing for her headache.

“I’m disappointed in you, old man. You’ve got more cause than most to hate the slavers, and yet you stand in my way.”

The Teacher coughed, cuffed at his lips, and sighed. “I have heard of your deeds, Leveler. I applaud you for freeing the Ash slaves. I do not agree with you putting their masters in chains.”

“They must suffer, as we suffered.” Leveler responded curtly.

“That’s where you have it all wrong. A true revolutionary would want to see that none suffered as they did ever again.”

The Leveler flexed her jaw, lips peeling back over pale teeth. “A child’s view of the world. You think my army of freed slaves would allow me to simply let them go, after all they’d done?”

The Teacher bowed his head sadly. “Learn from history, Leveler, or you’ll be doomed to repeat it. And learn it properly, or you’re simply doomed.”

“The only thing doomed is the old order.”

The Teacher sighed again. “I’m glad I’m blind. I don’t want to see the kind of new order you’re going to create.”

A mottled pattern pushed up through the skin around the Leveler’s eyes as flesh became scales. Her eyes yellowed, the pupils stretching into slashes of black. “Then look away.” she hissed.

The Leveler opened her mouth, teeth hinging forward as they lengthened into hooked fangs, jaw distending down and down and down.


* * * * * *

The fact that dozens of Risemen were fleeing alongside them helped, but all the same Wraith slowed from their attention-drawing gallop as soon as he dared, dismounting and pulling them all under a stone arch that led to a weedy courtyard between three crumbling tenements. In the main road, collared battle mages with sword-armed handlers at their heels were running towards the crack and boom of rune casts; Davin’s last stand.

Breathing hard, Wraith groped for his satchel and visibly relaxed as he found his iron mask still there.

“Are you alright?” he asked Wanderer.

But then running footsteps echoed in the archway and he tensed again, dragging one of his paired swords from its scabbard.

“Shit!” Illusion cursed as she nearly ran into the grinning blade-point. The Ambassador was behind her, bundled up in a cloak and limping on her bare feet.

Wraith exhaled sharply and returned his blade to its sheath.

“Red?” he asked after their missing companion.

“The Teacher?” Immortal undercut him sharply, from his position cradled under the big man’s other arm.

“Red stayed to fight.” Illusion panted. Her eyes began to brim with tears. “The Teacher, he...I’m sorry…”

Scottie
05-10-2019, 09:26 AM
Every twist and turn could have been the tipping point for the Wanderer. Her body slowly slipping from the saddle and she would have fallen to the cobbles. The crowd was thick as people fled, they would never have found her corpse. She would have been lost to the City of Rise. Not bloody likely, this was not her final resting place. A limp grip was all that kept her on the horse, a handful of the soft tunic that Wraith wore was in her fist.

The saddle before was emptied when the Wraith moved to the cobbles, dragging them under an archway to a small opening. Her body sighed forward, her chest resting against the saddle. For any passerby, it looked like a fallen citizen was draped over the back of a horse. Her movements so small that she barely registered as alive. It was taking all of her concentration to keep her eyes open. To keep herself vaguely functioning until they were safe. Wraith’s question was answered with a soft grunt and a slight raise of her head.


Red, The teacher, Solar. Were they lost souls now? Solar was. His body lay back where this had all began. Red was at least alive when Illusion left her...The Teacher. The Wanderer could no longer keep herself up on the saddle, viewing the conversation for an awkward sideways angle. Her drop to the ground was harsh. Her feet tried to support her but failed. Ultimately crumpling to her hands and knees. She no longer could maintain that wall of stoicness within her. Her hands tried to steady her body as deep breaths shook through her body. Small drops of water hit the sandy cobbles beside her fingertips. The others, if dead, had died fighting. They would have died on their feet, refusing to submit and brought down by violence. The teacher could barely raise his head himself...He couldn’t walk more than a few steps. The man was weak and now he had been taken. Killed or worse...but he had no defence. They were his only defence...and they failed him.

“H...He must have been seen as a threat.” Her words cracked, her body trembling as it begged her to just rest. Just lay down for a short while. The wanderer knew if she gave in to it’s wishes, she would collapse...She would be a dead weight for them in their escape. She trusted them to haul her half conscious body around, would they haul her if she was unconscious and of no use?

“The book?” Her head was raised slowly to Illusion. Tears dribbled down her cheeks and she looked decades older. The small nod gave her a moment of relief. “We..We need that name. There must be another way?”

Illusion seemed struck by something. Something that had been screamed in amongst the chaos. “He...The teacher said something about the Great Library...and a scroll.” Her gaze snapped to the Immortal, viewing him (unfortunately) as the fountain of all knowledge. “Could that help us?” The Wanderer let out a deep sigh, “We don’t have time to discuss it. If the Teacher said the great library...that is where we go.” Her shoulders swivelled as she pushed herself up onto her knees. Tears had made paths through the dirt on her cheeks but she had stopped crying. “You. Loaf. Lead us.” They had only a short amount of time before the city was overrun by Ash warriors. They needed to move now.

Azazeal849
05-10-2019, 12:44 PM
“Could that help us?”

Illusion looked at Wanderer as if concerned that she needed to rest, but the other woman’s determined tone seemed to silence her unspoken question. “He said it’s in a gold case, somewhere with a crab mosaic.”

“Not a lot to go on for such a big place.” the Immortal put in doubtfully.

“We don’t have time to discuss it. If the Teacher said the great library...that is where we go.” Her shoulders swivelled as she pushed herself up onto her knees. Tears had made paths through the dirt on her cheeks but she had stopped crying. “You. Loaf. Lead us.”

The Immortal narrowed his eyes. “Call me Loaf again and I’ll bake you into one.”

Wraith cleared his throat in pointed support of Wanderer’s request for urgency. The Immortal exhaled.

“Fine. Back out into the road and turn right.”

The distant thunder had quietened now, and though many faces had appeared at windows and many Risemen were staring towards the city centre, exchanging urgent bursts of questions, none were looking at the group as they slunk away. News didn’t seem to have reached the northernmost districts, for the gates were all still open as they approached. Unlike the armed provosts who were busy inspecting and taking money from the people funnelling into the city, no-one spared the group much more than a glance as they pushed their way through in the other direction.

Past the gatehouse the road led to a stone bridge over the Tributary, beyond which it fractured into a dozen trackways leading east and west and up into the hills. They peeled off the road as soon as they crossed the bridge and struck out east, following the Tributary back under the frowning gaze of the Barrier mountains. The slopes were clothed in summer cloaks of olive and orange trees, though to the west the mountains were bleaker and greyer, sliding up behind the receding smudge of the Risemen city to form the edge of the known world. All the way they saw nothing of the Leveler’s men - nor of their dubious ally Red.

The mountains to their backs turned pink, and then black as the sun sank behind them. As the light failed they were forced to stop, and unroll their blankets on a small hillock overlooking the road. Goats bleated intermittently up in the hills, but otherwise they seemed to be alone. The Ambassador drifted silently away from the group and sat down by the river’s edge, her back to them as she gazed into the water.

Illusion let out a despondent sigh and slumped down next to their tethered pack-horse, as if the whole weight of the preceding day had finally caught up with her and driven her into the ground.

“Well.” Wraith said, motionless as he rested his forehead on the horse’s flank. It was the first word that any one of them had spoken since leaving the road. “That blew up in our faces...spectacularly.”

“Everything I do is spectacular.” the Immortal countered, but this time even his commentary sounded forced. Perched amid the blankets slung over the horse’s neck, he regarded Wraith with an apathetic gaze. “So on a scale of one to fucked, where are we?”

Wraith wearily rummaged through their remaining saddlebags. “A pretty solid eight, I would say.” He pulled out a crust of stale bread, and cracked it into three pieces to offer to Illusion and Wanderer.

“Where in the gods’ name is Red?” Illusion complained, half rising onto one elbow and gazing back along the darkening road as if in the forlorn hope that their missing companion would appear.

“She’ll guess which way we’re going or she won’t.” Immortal offered, twisting his mouth in the bodiless equivalent of a shrug. “We’ll have to bring her up to speed if and when she finds us again.”

Wraith made a halfhearted noise. “Red has no convictions. There’s no speed slow enough to bring her up to.”

“Oh she’s not so bad.” Immortal said. “Underneath all that malignant narcissism…”

“Is a stone cold bitch.” Wraith finished for him.

“Which is sometimes useful,” Immortal argued. “When there’s wars and disagreements going on. Anyway, we need to go on with or without her. At first light if not before.”

“Are you joking?” Illusion groaned, flopping back and covering her eyes.

“Sometimes,” Immortal admitted. “But not right now. Do you want to Name this Leveler bitch or what?”

“Easy for you when you don’t have to walk.” Illusion mumbled.

Wraith lowered himself to the ground, his padded armour rustling quietly. “We go. The Leveler ground the city of Light beneath her heel. She killed innocents here in the Risen city, just to get to us. Sins require punishment.”

Illusion was quiet for a moment, a complex stream of emotions dominoing across her face. She sighed in defeat, but when she looked up her face was set. “My sin was not stopping her sooner. Now the Teacher...Solar...Raven...my mother...they’re all dead. No more.”

She glanced at the Wanderer - easily the most exhausted among them after all the runecraft she had exerted to enable their escape.

Wraith followed her gaze, giving Wanderer the unfortunate impression that somehow in the last few days she had become the group’s decision maker. “Wanderer?” he prompted.

Scottie
05-13-2019, 12:56 PM
“I’d like to see you.” A harsh chuckle left her as she attempted to pull herself up to her feet. The directions were given and she required help to get up on the horse. Wraith hauled her up and she let herself slip into her mind. Her body limp as her forehead rested on Wraith’s back.

The journey blurred past her. The cobbles soon became a beaten track. The screams grew distant and the air grew silent. She hadn’t felt this drained for a long time. Rarely did she use her most powerful rune for long without resting. Each limb felt like it was made of rock, her joints felt loose and tight at the same time and her head was far too heavy for her neck. The worst was her hands. Her knuckles burned, like fire was bubbling under her skin.

-----

Her bottom lip shook violently as pain shot through her hands. Blood covered every inch of her skin and the axe was tight in her fist. A deep shaking breath attempted to leave her clenched teeth. Tears had dribbled down her cheeks but it was rage burning through her veins. A rage that she had never felt before. Another body lay at her feet, another man attempting to breathe through the blood that pooled in his mouth. Wide fearful eyes stared up at her. She had never felt like this before.

Powerful.

She was no longer a weak woman to be trodden on. She was no longer a slave who had to bow to all. She was no longer a...She was no longer a mother. They had unwittingly taken the only thing keeping her sane. The only person who kept her quiet and made her bite her tongue. She had nothing now. Except that rage within her chest. The burning pain in her chest that was only soothed by watching them fall. Another screech of anger was sent her way. She could hear his heavy footsteps towards her, something raised to bring her down.

The heavy iron around her neck reminded her of what she should do. She should fall to her knees and beg for mercy. But. They had taken someone from her that was beyond precious. The reason for her to wake.When her gaze snapped to her soon to be attacker, it was not fear that echoed deep in her dull green eyes. Pure unadulterated rage made her eyes sparkle. Her lips rolled back over her teeth and a deep growl was spat at the man. Never had he encountered such a sight, he faltered and it was all she needed.

Blunt metal forced its way into his throat. Sliding through flesh and muscle. Drenching her face with blood. Heavy metal was lodged into a wooden structure. Each breath was filled with blood as chunks of flesh shed to the floor. Her foot pressed against his chest. Blood soaked metal was dragged from the wood, from the wound. Weak fingers attempted to grip her foot. Clawing at a worn sandal. Seconds was all it took. The grip became limp and the body dropped before her.

Her knuckles were turning white, the strain was becoming too much. That old feeling was drifting back. It was only a short while ahead. Green was just ahead. If she could reach there...It hit her violently. That horrible feeling.

Weakness.

Her vision drifted in and out. Her legs failed her and she dropped to all fours. Dragging her body along as distant screams and shouts floated to her. A sharp drop caught her by surprise. She fell hard. Her body striking every rock it could. Her head hit something and darkness crept in. The last image she had was him. His body limp under her grip. His green eyes wide and staring through her. Blood slowly trickling from his lips.

----

A voice called her out of the smog. But it was not the group she had been travelling that she could see before. The harsh image appeared again and a deep breath was torn from her lungs. Frantically, she moved herself away from the image and fell. Hard. Her back hit the ground as she fell from the horse.

“Fuck.”

The word was small as she lay on her back for a moment. The sky was blue, there were animals nearby and water. Water, that helped. The rest had done her good, she was not 100% as of yet. But she was better than before. Pushing herself to sitting, she let a long breath leave her nose. Pin prickles danced over her skin as she felt the others attention on her. “What?” She said bluntly to Wraith as he watched her. The next few moments would be hilarious to anyone...except Wanderer. Watching her force herself to her feet, looking like a baby learning to walk. Rolling herself over until she could plant her feet properly and gripping anything nearby to clamber herself up.

Finally, she stood. She rolled her shoulders back and took just one step before her knees buckled underneath her. Another harsh word and she used anything she could to support herself as she neared the water. Wraith repeated himself and she paused for a moment. “You are right. We do need to go. But we are not at fault. She would have brought that city down with or without our presence.”


“Everywhere that woman touches...dies. We all know that. People follow her or die. We have chosen as a group not to follow but to stand and stop her. So we go. Simple as.” Collapsing into the cool water was the best thing she could have asked for. The pain in her hands was slowly numbed by the water. “At first light then.”

Minkasha
05-14-2019, 12:15 PM
The Hole had been yet one of many stewards to The Leveler’s agenda of liberation. Beside her, the mixed fighter was unfazed by the bloody cost to freedom, stepping over the new body of Leveler’s recent kill.

“As the Leveler would have me do!” Eager to be the servant to change, her footsteps distanced from her commander and followed the trail left behind the enemy rune casters. Leather boots gave her movements heavy thuds over stone stairs and infrastructure. The windows to others homes were empty or shut, the sparkling crusader keeping with the open thoroughfares as she expected them to still be at the height of their run.

The landmark of the Risen God fountain came into sight, narrow residential channels gave way to a courtyard where an unlikely duo was in the process of standing. The swordswoman, in red dress and a Mer whose visible skin was a touch blue in the open world of the walking were people Hole recognized by word of the Leveler.

They too seemed to either recognize her or see her as a threat for the woman of deep black hair and bright red clothes drew her sword carefully. The redheaded Mer cautiously kept behind.

Cara yanked a bundle of cosmic locks from her head, producing the fatal spear she was famed for using. Red held tighter to the mundane handle of her sword. The Mer behind the red colored warrior yanked on her elbow. Cara observed the taller woman lean down for the blue tinted watery beauty to whisper something into her ear. During this, Cara shouted at them.

“Your ideas have lost! Freedom has come to the world!” the eagerness of her belief bounced off the surfaces of the closed off buildings nearby. Red had the slightest taunting smirk on her lips and flicked her blade.
“And if I say no? Am I still free?” The mixed rune warrior pondered this for a moment and wiggled her nose.

“Death is a type of fre-ah!” Interrupting her light hearted reply among baldeswomen a harrowing sense began creeping. Coming from nowhere the Hole’s thoughts turned to the depths of space, zooming swiftly past many stars a great distance away from Earth. She could still see the red fighter, and yet the heart raced with the false sense of wayward speed her mental vision flew at.

Cautiously stepping back, trying to mirror the act in her brain Cara was stopped in front of a dark swirling void. The Great Hole sat empty, a shadowy swirl with an abyssal center compelling her to stare deeper. The center of the cosmic body towered over her, a hole the size of a world.

Fingers the size of nations, skin slick as the ocean and palm as vast than her imaginings poked through gradually with gripping awe. How minute her life, her power, a fraction of insignificance to the true powers in space.

In the courtyard Cara wasn’t the first to scream. It was the Mer, who was also taken by the same hellish truth of universal power. To worry about the Leveler was only a shard of concern in the expanse of all power. The Ambassador’s telepathic control had taken her to a place in the Hole’s mind that sucked her in. The madness which changed Cara irreversibly struck the watery diplomat with the intensity of a lightning strike.

Tripping into the fountain, the Hole simultaneously gripped her head in panic. Red was caught briefly looking to the downed women, diving for the Ambassador who splashed in the water with a frenzy Red couldn’t understand.

Activating a rune, Cara set free the starry, clouded, animalistic figure that charged directly to its destined target. The powerful rush of the long-armed creature was quiet in its encroachment. Red reached to pull the Ambassador out of the fountain, but the simple act became almost impossible with the Mermaid kicking and shaking in hysteria. The swordswoman missed seeing the beast coming and only noticed when the corner of her eyes saw the bright light of stars against a moving black cloud in the shape resembling a large beast.

Teeth threatened to chomp into her arm, until she activated her rune. The space around the cloud shaped creature brightened and swirled, creating the bubble which encompassed the combatants. Seconds continued and twinkling teeth gradually moved in their attempt to bite down, but Red pulled back and spun into a cutting slice. The blade moved at speeds which the creation was incapable, breaking apart the spawn from head to torso. The rune faded and with it the airy body quickly broke apart. Through its spreading mist a series of acidic needles jumped, landing into Red’s chest and with loud hisses began to eat at her clothes.

In a frenzy Cara approached, pike’s end shaking with no discipline. Her zealous strike fueled only opened her to a spry parry, Red slapping aside the tip with her blade. This close to Hole was daunting for her face was heavily lined with the hysteria holding onto Ambassador. The yelling, wide eyed panic threatened to be contagious but Red held firm and edged her blade down the side of the supernatural pike, ready to cut at Hole’s fingers.

“Ha!” Hole was running on adrenaline and undeniable fear her actions were entirely senseless and primal. She spat out a hazy mist into her opponent’s eyes as her fingers were moments from being cut. Red screamed with the stinging sensation like fire littering her face, burning in her nostrils and blinding the eyes.

The hissing at her chest continued, the acid starting to touch her skin. All three women screamed in pain or terror, but Red had the most sane grip and grabbed the back of Cara’s head. Slamming her face into the acid burns Hole screamed as parts of her face too began to feel the corrosive effect of her rune magic.

Kicked behind the knee and headbutting into the fountain, Red swirled her blade in a downward aim and thrust only for the metal point to impale shadowy water. Hole teleported away. Despratley falling to her knees and watering her eyes, Red took seconds more before she ripped the part of the cloth damaged by acid and exposed the raw, bloodied parts of the upper chest.

The Ambassador still in a fit was slapped by Red and the beautiful sea women came back to a degree. Red stared her straight in the eyes. “You run now. I don’t know what happened to you but it’s obvious you can’t stay here and she’ll be back, or another of them.” The offending hand caressed the Mermaid’s cheek and helped her out of the water.

In passing the fearsome sight still lingering in her mind, Ambassador pushed aside red hair and looked to the swordswoman who saved her life. “Thank…you…” was all she could manage, fleeing.

Azazeal849
05-16-2019, 07:36 PM
“That’s the difference!” the Leveler shouted, her voice echoing across the plaza where the old Masters had once watched their own armies depart. “Between us and the Lightmen. Between us and the Risemen. Between us and the old orders of the Ash city! We have strength and purpose and heart, when everything else is grey and stagnant.”

She stood alone, atop the stepped atrium of the great library. She was not a tall woman, but no-one - living or dead - could ever make the Leveler seem small.

“It’s time for a new dawn. We are about to cast a light over the Valley, and every slave that falls under it will have their chains struck from them! Every tyrant that falls under it will be struck from the face of the world!”

The forest of spears rippled as men raised them high, bellowing the Leveler’s name. Former slaves all; what they lacked in experience they made up for in devotion. There were mages standing among the spearmen, more subdued but as attendant as the rest. After several months of campaigning together, it was easy to pick them out of the crowd. Her Apprentice, who had joined out of loyalty. The Blademaiden, who had joined out of respect. And Redmoor, who had joined out of the promise of power. Rune-weavers of many colours and creeds, like the slave-soldiers around them - some were even former slaves themselves, for whom she had done the unthinkable and gifted them the touch of her own runes, raising them to her equal.

Well, the Leveler thought wryly, Almost.

Each one had come to her for their own reasons, but all of them were willing to fight for her.

All hers.

But, it was her alone who had marched into the council chamber and broken the old Masters. It would be her alone who set the world to rights.

“Why?” the old curator whispered when she padded back into the library, her slippers clapping against the stone floor.

“You know why.” the Leveler told him tartly, sweeping her cloak from her shoulders and tossing it over a nearby chair. The curator had been a good mentor to her in her parents’ absence, and an even greater comfort afterwards, but she was no longer a teenager poring through dusty volumes to earn the right to touch her first rune.

The corners of the curator’s mouth pulled down into a troubled frown. “Dear one...the Ashmen are free. The rulers who sent your parents to die are gone. Why should we now go after the Enlightened? It’s not just the rulers who suffer in a siege - you have already seen that.”

The Leveler exhaled heavily. She looked not at the curator, but at the candle on the desk in front of him, slowly trailing wax down into its copper holder. The flame illuminated some old scroll of historical records, yellowed and smelling of dust. The candle’s light was small against the vaulted vastness of the library, but it burned bright enough to draw the eye.

“You know better than most what kind of mages the Enlightened are.” the Leveler said at length. “You know why we never see the Mer any more.”

The curator folded his hands. “I know of the War of Faith, yes.”

“The Mer were strange, they did not think as we did, but they walked among us in peace. Then the Enlightened started to worry what if the Mer started thinking the same way they did.”

The Leveler shook her head, slowly.

“It’s funny isn’t it? For the keepers of a faith that teaches we all stand equal when our souls dissolve back into the magic of the world, they didn’t find it hard to call the Mer’s shapeshifting a blasphemy against the gods. They used their religion as their weapon instead of raw power, but in the end they and the old Masters are the same. Everyone is either a pawn or a threat.”

The Leveler rested her hands on the back of the chair, knuckles white as she stared into the flickering candle.

“It’s time for a new order.”


Part 5 - The Leveler

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A hot, midday wind was sweeping ripples across the brittle grass as Apprentice and Blademaiden stepped out of midair and collapsed, panting, amid the scrub. Down the mountain slope was the city, grey and frowning, seemingly untroubled by the chaos they had just unleashed in the heart of it. When the two mages had vanished from the market square there had been screaming and death; out here, there was only the wind, moaning across the mountainside.

Blademaiden was first to push herself shakily up onto her hands. She coughed and spat into the grass. “Fucking city.”

The Apprentice cuffed blood from his nose. The second teleportation coupled with the brief but savage rune battle had left his fingers trembling, and his head searing with bright streaks of pain.

I am not here. the Wanderer had said to him. You do not see me. She had asked for his help, to let them escape. To betray the Leveler just like Illusion had. Something he could never do.

Could he?

“Any sign of the others?” he coughed. He tried to look around their designated meeting place, but his eyes were still swimming with painful flashes.

“No.” Blademaiden responded, “Nowhere.”

No sooner had she said it however, then Redmoor appeared before them in a sudden swirl of red. The man spasmed and nearly fell to one knee, the rune-inflicted tics wrenching at his face more than normal.

“Redmoor.” the Apprentice mumbled.

“Apprentice.” Redmoor craned his neck hard to one side and then the other, which seemed to still the worst of his spasms. “I guess your friend Wanderer did us a service by getting rid of the turncoat.”

Apprentice thought of Davin, disappearing beneath a press of seething Risemen. He had neither liked nor trusted the Lightman mercenary, but he still remembered the screams, and Redmoor’s flippant comment angered him.

“You’re bleeding.” Redmoor remarked.

Apprentice cuffed at his nose once again. He looked the red-robed mage up and down.

“Did you bother to fight?” he challenged. “You’re not even scratched.”

Redmoor gave him a twitching sneer of a smile. “The Shattered Gods love me, baby boy.”

“Call me that again and you’ll find them turning from you.” Apprentice warned through gritted teeth.

“I was fighting,” Redmoor said calmly. “With the other turncoat. Unfortunately when I cornered her she turned out to be mist and shadow.”

The Apprentice struggled to his feet, snarling. “Illusion has a mirror rune! If you spent just an hour talking to any of us you’d know that, you arrogant piece of shit!”

He began to walk, even though each step drove a knife through the inside of his skull, and stalked away through the gorse and ferns that cloaked the mountainside. He had gone a good hundred metres before he realised that Blademaiden was walking alongside him. The older woman’s face was neutral, her deep brown eyes impassive.

“I’ve often wondered why he joined us,” she said as they paced. “What he wants.”

Apart from a good slap, you mean? “He wants runes.” Apprentice growled. “That’s all he cares about - no liberation, no higher cause, just fucking power.”

Blademaiden was silent.

“So why do we fight alongside a monster?” Apprentice suddenly blurted.

Blademaiden looked at him stonily. “Because I gave my word.”

By the time they returned to the meeting point, the Leveler and Hole had reappeared. The Hole was laid out on the ground, in obvious pain, while Leveler pressed a spread hand to her forehead, a soft glow bleeding out between her fingers.

“My lady.” the Apprentice said hurriedly, dropping to one knee beside them. The Hole had fallen into sleep, her starlit hair matted and dishevelled. The Leveler turned towards her two returning acolytes, and the Apprentice almost recoiled.

The Leveler’s robe was spattered with blood, and it was not her own. It formed dark outlines to her fingernails, though she had done her best to wipe it away. She had missed a spot at the corner of her mouth. The Apprentice tried not to let his eyes linger on it, but she caught him anyway, and brushed the clot of red away with her thumb. Her expression was ice hard, with balefire glinting in her blue eyes.

“So.” the Leveler rasped thickly. “They got away.”

“We…” the Apprentice found himself stumbling for words. “I’m sorry, my lady. We did everything we could.”

“I know you did.” the Leveler said stonily, no warmth in her words. She exhaled a leonine growl. “But they still have the Book.”

“Can they read it?” the Apprentice ventured. “Without the Teacher?”

The Blademaiden pressed her full lips together into a severe line. “We had all better pray not.”

The Leveler said nothing. The Apprentice had never seen her so angry - she was predatory; cold; seething. The fingers of her right hand were flexing open and closed, as if searching for someone’s throat to wrap around.

“I think I know where they’re going.” she rumbled softly. “When Hole recovers, I’m sending her back to our home city. I want every watchman on alert. We’ll flush them out, and then we’ll hunt them down.”

She shot them a gaze that was more challenging than trusting.

“Are you with me?”

The Apprentice wanted to respond with an emphatic yes. But he also wanted to urge his lady to go back to the city of Light, to secure what they had already won, before it slipped through their fingers and led to more blood and death. While he vacillated, Blademaiden spoke up before him.

“I’d be your shadow, my lady.” she affirmed with a stiff nod.

The Leveler smiled, but it was a dagger smile.

“Then darken heel and let’s get to work.”


* * * * * *

They had rejoined the River and struck out north, where they began to encounter farms and villages again; modest structures of sun-baked brick, with dusty tracks that wove between them like spiderwebs, catching every building. In some of the settlements the villagers still worked, chattering away to each other in trilling Ash - as if the Valley was still at peace. In other places however, whole villages stood abandoned, their fields wilted and colonised by weeds. Some of the buildings had been burned into roofless, black skeletons. The Leveler’s conquest was evident, even though they had seen no sign of pursuit from their nemesis since escaping the Risen city.

Wraith was boiling them a pot of immature rice. Over the past few days they had been able to trade for food at some of the villages they passed through, but those supplies were running low, and they had been reduced to scavenging through a fire-gutted farm and its untended rice paddies. Ambassador was drifting aimlessly among the stalks, knee-deep in the waterlogged field. Insects buzzed, and a raptor circled lazily overhead, but other than that they might have been alone in the whole world.

Illusion paused to look west, where the sunset had turned the sky pink and the clouds to molten gold. It was too beautiful a scene for such a sombre moment. She tore her eyes away from it, and refocused on the lines she was tracing through the mud at the edge of the field. She dug her finger back into the silty clay and traced another spiked glyph.

“And that’s a ‘g’.” she said to Wanderer.

Dirt covered fingertips drifted over the letter. Tracing it slowly as she sounded out the letter like a child would. She was glad the others were busy, if they were all watching her...she wouldn’t do this. The Wanderer was doing this with one task in mind. Once she knew vague letters, she could spell something. Something important.

When she felt happy about it again, the Wanderer let her hand move to her small dirt workspace. The letters were crude, small pauses were clear. Illusions letters were clean, they had neat swoops and it took no effort at all. The Wanderer’s looked like Illusion’s...if Illusion was drunk and wearing heavy set gloves. The final small swoop, she did with her tongue between her teeth. There was a small pause and then a deep breath left her nose. The Wanderer glanced at Ilusion and for a brief moment, she looked young. She looked like a young girl trying to please their teacher. Desperate to do right.

Illusion looked down at the shaky lettering.

“Agrona.” she read, and her freckled face creased in a smile. “My name was the first thing I learned to write too.”

She sat back with a sigh.

“My father made me burn the parchment afterwards. Names are dangerous, he said.”

The wanderer flinched gently when she heard her name. She hadn’t heard it in so long. She was not gifted the luxury of her true name in her time in the mines and after she left, she refused to tell anyone it. Her eyes dragged over the swoop of the G again before she let her gaze move to Illusion. “Names are very dangerous. Giving someone your name shows trust….and foolishness.”

Illusion chuckled as she looked down at the scratches in the dirt. “You must trust me, then.”

A single eyebrow was raised and the Wanderer let out a small hum. “Perhaps. It is difficult to know who to trust in this world.” Her attention returned to the letters before her. “I am glad that I have someone to watch my back. We will need that in the journey to come.”

Illusion folded her arms across her knees and rested her chin on them, her auburn hair falling to either side of her face. “I can understand that. I trusted the wrong people for a long time.”

She sighed and looked again towards the distant mountains. As the sun dipped the moons were becoming visible - the bone-white curve of the Elder Brother shone in the sky, like a tusk made of light, while the Younger Brother was half hidden by a band of cloud.

“It makes it easier...after everything that’s happened. Knowing that even if I end up like Solar or Raven, and no-one even remembers that I existed...at least this time I picked the right side.”

“Trusting the wrong people is just a fact of life. It’s a hurdle everyone must cross and it makes you stronger.” The wanderer could tell the woman had raised her head but she didn’t copy her. She used to welcome the night sky with open arms. It gave her more places to hide, a way to escape. No longer did she feel that she couldn’t sleep safely. She had rested herself in the groups presence and she had never truly felt like that before.

“You will not end up like those who have passed. You will see this to the end. You will get vengeance for your mother. I will make sure of it.” It was a small gesture but it meant a lot coming from the Wanderer. She would not let this woman fall like the others had. Illusion had so much faith in the Wanderer, she had not experienced this for a long time. She could not fail her.

Illusion took Wanderer’s mud-stained hands in her own and squeezed them. “Thank you, Agrona.” She looked towards the campfire where Wraith sat backlit by the flames, and stood up, smiling. “Coming for dinner?”

The Wanderer gifted the woman a small real smile. She let the woman take her hands and squeeze them gently. “You’re welcome, Sage.” Small flecks of sand drifted off the woman when she stood and the Wanderer nodded. Her fingers reached out for a long flat stone that she promptly pushed into her pocket. It took only a few seconds and she followed the other woman back to the campfire.

Wraith had already divided the thin rice soup into their three worn clay bowls, and was now kneeling beside them with his head bowed, praying to the shattered gods in his native Rise. Though the two women didn’t know most of the words, they caught the names of their friends Solar, Archer and Raven...and then the name Weaver as well.

“Her too?” Illusion asked, frowning as she sat down.

The Wraith paused in his prayer and opened his eyes. “In death, all sins are forgiven. I pray for the better paths that they might have taken.”

Azazeal849
06-05-2019, 01:36 PM
“It’s changed.” Wraith observed as they looked down.

“Yes.” Illusion agreed. “It has.”

A bank of thunderheads had rolled in unexpectedly from the sea, cloaking the City of Ash under a snarling and thunder-bruised sky. The cloud front was already trailing misty bands of rain as it climbed the mountains, and the rain was washing down to swell the headwaters of the River and soak the city clinging to its banks. The dormant volcano that gave the city its name loomed behind, a truncated spire among the other peaks, with its arms enfolding the fertile ash plain.

The plain was a semi-ordered scatter of villages with crop fields spiralling out from each, connected by a web of roads that funnelled back to the city. The city itself started in the River valley and crept upward towards the shoulders of the mountains; rising in distinct tiers with the affluent districts clustered around the River and the more ramshackle areas relegated to the stony slopes above. People were working in the fields and going to and fro about the mine entrances above the slum districts, but from a distance the scars of war were still obvious. Some of the villages were blackened skeletons, leaving deserted islands of weeds and burned-black crops amongst the still-tended farms. Scaffolding had been erected around the city’s southern gate, but beyond it there was a traceable path of ruined and damaged buildings scarring the rich districts by the riverfront.

“Well there’s the library.” Illusion pointed. Around a wide muster square in the southern quarter were stepped stone platforms, raising up the great quartz and marble buildings that sat atop them - the council chamber, the palace of justice, the great library. The Wanderer knew them by sight; by design the symbols of the Old Masters’ power were visible from almost anywhere in the city. The Leveler’s revolution had left the buildings mostly intact.

“The question is,” Illusion went on, folding her arms and tugging at her necklace, “How do we get in? After the Risen City, I bet the Leveler has told everyone who we are and what we look like.”

“Swim up River.” the Ambassador suggested. It was the first thing the Mer had said that day, and her voice was distant and cold. She had been that way since her battle with the Hole.

“Find one of the old mine entrances?” the Immortal offered instead, frowning down at the Ash city from atop Wraith’s horse. “Work our way through the tunnels, and then down through the shanties.”

“That’s crazy.” Illusion scoffed. “All the former slaves will know every secret way we could take.”

The Immortal smiled toothily. “Perhaps. But how many of them would willingly go back down there?”

Scottie
06-16-2019, 05:26 PM
It had been a silent promise. One whispered to the skies as she scrambled free of this city. She had promised herself she would never return here. She would never step foot into that city when it was missing the only person she cared about. It was a simple promise but it clung to her bones. It pained her to even come close to the city. The power of the city echoed through the villages. When the power left, it had shattered them. They were mere flecks now on a disintegrating map.

Thin strips of cloth had been wound around the handle of her axe. Her blood had coated it and sunk deep into the grain of the wood. The dirty cloth helped to hide the obvious murderous weapon. The library. It sat like a pristine beacon. Beside the council headquarters and the place of justice. She knew them well. Even from a distance, they were hated. They were a symbol of something she could never get. Freedom to educate herself. Freedom to speak her mind and have others listen. Freedom to have justice in this land. Every single slave that roamed the mines and fields hated those buildings. How they sat kissing the clouds.

It was a surprise to see them intact. Surely….a woman out to bring down the slavers and everything they hold dear….would destroy the biggest symbol of their control. No slave had ever stepped foot in the library. Why would they need to? The words of the others brushed past her skull as her gaze remained on that building in the distance. “We cannot swim up the river. The current is too strong and there are many rocks hiding under the water.”

Broken fingernails dug deep into her palm. He knew what he was saying. It was directly thrown at her. One swift movement and she was sliding off the horse. Worn sandals felt every pebble underneath her. The wanderer dragged her fingertips along the length of the horse as she moved before the others. The city looked like an empty shell of her former self. She was no longer the weak fearful woman who had fled the city.

“None of them will enter that darkness again.” She kept her back to them as she spoke. “Even those who only experienced it for a few months...it eats at your soul.” The wanderer slowly raised her chin. There were families working on the fields in the distance. The war was clear on them. One was missing an arm and...burn marks covered the child of 10.

It had been one silent promise. Could she break that promise to herself? Her gaze did not leave that child. Whoever was following them...would do whatever they had to get what they needed. Go through whoever they had to. Kill whoever they had to. Do whatever they had to in order to succeed. She would do the same.

The axe was slowly slipped down into her tight grip as she turned towards the group. “I will lead you.” Her stony gaze was gifted to every single member of the group before she took in a deep breath. “You must do every single thing I tell you. I mean it.” The last instruction was thrown at the Immortal. “I do not care for your opinion or what stupid joke you want to throw at me. I will not hesitate to leave you in another fucking hole.” The threat was left hanging in the cool air as she turned to her right and started picking her way down the path. “Follow me.”

Azazeal849
06-22-2019, 05:30 PM
After only a few minutes in the twisting, crook-backed tunnels, it was easy to see what Wanderer had meant. The rocky passageways were airless and pitch dark, and Wanderer’s rune-cast light threw ugly shadows across the walls. The dark mouths of branch-tunnels wriggled off to either side, some looking barely big enough to crawl through. More than one had clearly collapsed. The mountains surrounding the great volcano were rich in copper, iron and tin, and all of it had been bought with the blood of slaves like Wanderer.

“You weren’t wrong about this place eating at your soul.” the Immortal murmured as Wanderer led them through the haunted mine-tunnels.

The sound of rain outside was deadened to nothing, though water still found them in the silty sludge pooling around their feet. Every now and then a breath of wind blew through, like the whisper of ghosts. Sometimes the way led them back up towards the surface, only to plunge down again towards the heart of the mountain. When the patter of rain became audible once again, heralding their return to the light, even the Ambassador sighed.

The tunnel widened steadily and then opened into a quarry of piled earth and mossy stones, standing like islands amid the wash of rainwater. Even here there was no-one - the freed slaves kept well clear of their former hell. But that did not mean they had abandoned the mines. Over the drumming of the rain they heard voices, and peeking out between the piles of rock they saw a large group of men working far off to their right.

The air was vibrating with runesign, and as the men lifted their arms large chunks of stone excavated themselves from a former tunnel mouth, raising into the air trailing hourglass trickles of soil and ore. The mages floated the huge mounds of earth over to a quarry pit and then let them fall and smash for their comrades to sift through.

“Big change, as Ambie would say.” Wraith said quietly. “Perhaps not all of it was bad change?”

They pulled up their cloak hoods against the rain, shadowing their faces from prying eyes. Two men resting outside a mudbrick hovel looked up as they passed, but gave them no trouble.

The streets of the city were built narrow, and the tenements tall. It was intended to shade pedestrians from the sun, but at the same time it was oppressive, lending the city an ominous air of surveillance. They wondered if the old slave-masters had planned that too. Down in the lower districts, the buildings became more ornate, but the atmosphere became grim. The rain had made its way down into the city now, where Ashmen went about the business of buying, selling and working in front of buildings that were nicked by blade impacts and stained by smoke and old blood. Some of the buildings were deserted. They passed a fire-gutted mansion, scrawled with venomous graffiti directed against its former occupants. SLAVER. RAPIST. MURDERER.

In a temple courtyard, a group of men and women knelt despite the rain, praying aloud for their children to come home safe from the war. As they skirted the plaza before the justice building, Wanderer saw that the posts once used to tie up rebellious slaves were still there. A group of armed men bearing slave brands were in the plaza, escorting a shuffling line of men whose faces and wrists were unmarked. Standing by the posts, an armoured man was shouting curses and threats. He was too far away to make out the words, but at the sound of his voice Illusion stopped and went pale.

“What?” Wraith whispered.

“That’s my father.” Illusion’s hands balled into fists, the rain dripping from her whitened knuckles. She took a step forward, but Wraith’s hand clapped down on her shoulder.

“Not now.” the big man cautioned. “Too many guards, and too much attention. Justice will be done...but later.”

The rage cleared from Illusion’s eyes, and she pulled her hood lower as she turned away. “Later.” she agreed.

The library stood alone, the great mustering plaza before its steps lying empty. At the top of the staircase of rainwashed marble was an atrium sheltered from the rain, and the great wooden doors stood open and unguarded.

Hushed voices greeted them as they stepped inside. Candle-bright and smelling of wood and old paper, the library split off into long galleries divided by tall bookcases. Down one, a woman with a slave brand on her cheek sat at a table with a young boy. A scroll was unfolded in front of them, weighted down with candles, and the woman was pointing through the letters of the alphabet while the boy hesitantly repeated. They looked happy.

The entrance way to each gallery was marked by a faded mosaic fresco on the floor tiles - here a sun and moon, there two soldiers with spears crossed.

“The old man said a crab.” the Immortal reminded them, peering out from the crook of the Ambassador’s arm, beneath her cloak.

“Not yet.” Wraith murmured. “We’re being followed.”

Illusion, who had been watching the woman and her son, snapped round. “What?”

“He crossed the plaza after us.” Wraith shushed her, and motioned them all to follow him. As they twisted deeper into the library, Wanderer began to hear it to - the sound of creeping footsteps against the tiles. Wraith ducked into a side room, and flattened himself against the doorframe.

As the stranger passed through a doorway, Wraith lunged and seized him by the neck, dragging the pursuer round to slam against the wall so that his choked-off yelp left him in a winded gasp.

“Wait!” the man rasped as Wraith’s blade hissed from beneath his cloak and found his throat. “I know who you are! I want to help!”

“Oh?” Wraith whispered, acidly.

“I know who you are.” the man repeated. He was middle-aged, ruddy skinned, with a neat beard that had begun to grow ragged. Beneath his sodden cloak, his neck bore no collar scars. “The usurper warned everyone about you, that you were trying to bring back the old order...are you?”

Despite the blade to his throat, his dark eyes were hopeful. He switched from Wraith to look at Wanderer.

Scottie
07-11-2019, 09:10 PM
It was suffocating. The darkness slithered down her throat and forced her stomach to drop to her ankles. One hand remained tight on her axe, the other was hidden in the folds of her clothes. It gripped the small pouch of runes. They were all she had. They were the only reason she entered these caves again. No one could get the better of her. No one could force her to taste blood again...if they did, they would surely regret it.

It was strange. Seeing the old slaves use runes. They could get through things with less effort and in a fraction of the time it took by hand. She remained silent through their journey. Partly because nothing needed to be said. Partly because she didn’t need anyone recognising her. She didn’t need anyone to say her name, to remind her of her life in these caves.

The posts still stood. Blood of hundreds of slaves had sunk into the wood grain. Screams and pleas of mercy were buried in those posts. She could not understand why they still stood. A shuffling group of weary looking men moved by. The wanderer ignored them and headed for the library. Something stopped her from entering. Countless insults and threats echoed in her mind, no slave was allowed past those doors. Now they stood, open, welcoming...welcoming her into the library. A place that was once only for a choice few.


It took a few moments but she pushed herself past the threshold. A deep breath of relief left her chest. The smallest of smiles curled onto her lips and she pushed herself further into the library. There was life everywhere they looked. A woman teaching her child, a man brushing worn fingers over the spines of books. Slaves that had never seen true writing could now hold it in their hands. She had forgotten their reason for being here. She had become so wrapped up in all the joy surrounding her where there had only been misery.

“We’re being followed.”

The words pierced through her happy haze and brought her back to the truth surrounding them. She had been foolish. She hadn’t been paying attention. She thought this area would be safe. Soft footsteps came closer, creeping over the tiles in a stupid attempt to follow them. She let the Wraith take control of the situation. The man was slammed against the wall with ease. It was only one man. It wasn’t a real threat, especially as it appeared he was not a mage.

The cloak was dropped and she found herself thrown violently back in the past. His beard was neater, his skin was cleaner and his clothes were free of any dirt. Where his eyes were filled with hope, they had once been brimming with hatred. Glee had crossed his features when he tore families apart and forced cruel unnecessary punishments on young children and women. She remembered her punishment. The way it stung. The way she bled for hours after. He was no slave.

The blade was kissing the skin of his neck. His gaze snapped to her but still he did not recognise her. “Move.” She told Wraith bluntly as she took one step forward. “I need to speak to him. Move.” It was not a request, more an order thrown at the Wraith.

She saw the prisoner’s eyes dart around before settling on her once more. He stared for a long moment, eyes narrowing as they searched her face, her neck, her scars.

And this time he saw.

She could tell, from the way the trepidation in his eyes flickered into recognition, and then began to curdle back towards foreboding.

“You?” he hissed venomously. She saw his teeth and lips move, coming together to begin forming a familiar name, a hated name. “V-”

In the time it took his lips to curl back over his teeth, her mind had changed. Before recognition had poisoned his tongue, she was going to act differently. She wasn’t going to bring violence into this place. As that name burned on the tip of his tongue, a handful of fabric was tightly gripped in a scar ridden fist. Yanking him forward like he was nothing more than a rag toy, her nose nearly brushed his.

“Go on.” The look in her eyes was something unlike he had seen before. It was rage...yet it was gleeful rage. She had been waiting so long to stumble across a familiar face when she held this power but her refusal to come back here had stopped that dream from becoming reality.

“Say that name.” A gentle warmth radiated down her shoulders towards her fingertips as she lifted the man off the floor with ease. His feet barely brushing the ground. “I dare you.” The phrase held something more than just a simple set of words. It was a challenge. She was pleading with him to give her a true reason to make her dream come true. “Say it.”

She saw his fear reflected back as her rune-cast strength thumped him back against the wall. But in a moment it had calcified back into stubborn defiance. The old masters’ sense of superiority to slaves was too deeply ingrained.

“You’re only proving exactly why you needed to be kept in chains.” he sneered. “Vexie.”

It was all the reason she needed. “Good. You remember.” Her grip slackened enough to drop him to his feet and her hand moved swiftly to around his throat. Dirty fingertips dug deep into the skin of his neck as she pushed him back against the wall. “Your old way is dead, Slaver.” Her eyes lit up as she spoke. “I’ll never be back in chains.” Her grip grew steadily tighter as she once again lifted him off the floor. “Just like you will never have power again. You will die...slowly...and in pain.”

She knew her grip would eventually stop him breathing or break his neck. “I spent too many days cowering in fear.” Her fingers twitched gently as she lessened the grip on his throat. “I spent too many years thinking Slavers were all powerful gods. I know now. You are nothing more than a pitiful flea in this world. You control nothing. You are nothing.”

Instead of letting the man die, she pulled him sharply forward and then harshly back again so his head hit the wall. As he drifted from her grip, he left a thick trail of blood down the painted tiles. The wanderer waited until he had reached the ground and then scrawled something above the blood trail in crude Ash.

“Let us continue.” Her words soft as she turned and passed them all to head down the corridor.

Azazeal849
07-17-2019, 07:12 PM
Wraith looked from Wanderer walking away back to the unconscious Ashman, grunted, and hauled a scroll-stacked bookcase round to partially hide the slumped body from view.

“That might have been too loud.” Illusion said anxiously.

“He will be louder, when wake.” the Ambassador remarked, tapping pale blue fingers against her lips.

“So let’s be gone by then.” Wraith ended the conversation, starting after Wanderer.

Not once did she glance back to see if they were following her. She knew they would. The Wanderer didn’t want to hear their questions, to have sympathy drip from their tongues. She wanted silence.

The three trotted to catch up with her, the cool stone walls echoing their footsteps back to them. The whisper and shuffle of Ashmen wandering the great building continued, seemingly undisturbed. Fingers of sunlight shafted dimly through windows to their left, carrying the sounds of pattering rain and the river running by outside.

“You know, Wanderer,” the Immortal spoke up from within the cradle of Ambassador’s cloak. “I have to admit again that you surprise even me.”

The shuffling of footsteps would have been the perfect companion to the silence that enveloped them. But the loaf had to speak. She didn’t turn towards him, she kept walking but let him speak his piece.

“Like me you’re not an idiot,” the Immortal explained, “Which is good. And also like me I get the impression that you’d rather the idiots leave you alone. But then there’s all this around slaves and slavers. Between Illusion’s crusade and Wraith’s justice, you’re all fighting for some dangerously big ideas.”

“What’s wrong with that?” Illusion challenged him.

“I was hoping you were smarter.” Immortal said, twisting his eyebrows in the facial equivalent of a shrug. “Leveler had big ideas too, and look how that’s turned out.”

“Big ideas are change.” the Ambassador said, quietly. “Some good, some bad.”

“See, I prefer small, achievable things. Like getting a body back so I can piss on Leveler’s corpse. I’d be a lot less worried if Wanderer and Illusion were just out to avenge their families, without all this doing-the-right-thing baggage.”

The Wanderer rolled her eyes before responding. “Getting your body back is very much a small achievable thing. I hope you haven’t been naive enough to not consider what your future would be if you cannot sprout limbs from that neck stub of yours.”

The Immortal’s mouth opened and closed a few times.

“Hypothetically,” he said at last, “Hypothetically, mind you...well...well yes, that kind of immortality would fucking suck...”

He made the admission slowly, and in a surprisingly low voice.

“But!” he rallied. “We’ve heard the Scorpion and the Leveler’s own goons swear by her power to change form.”

That was true, Wanderer supposed.

“And while I’d normally consider a lot of those people morons, that’s a lot of corroborating evidence.”

Also true.

“I’m entirely confident that as soon as I touch the moonstone I’ll be able to get out of your hair and back to my own business...under my own power. Entirely confident.”

And that was a lie.

“And you?” the Immortal deflected, his tone sharp but his eyes avoiding hers.

The Wanderer stopped, waiting for the others to slow to a stop behind her before she turned to look at him. “I am not out to avenge my family. I just want peace.” She interrupted the snarky response that would surely come. “I want to sit somewhere for longer than a few days without some twat-faced witch of an overlord thinking that I must choose a side in this pathetic war. I want to sit in silence and watch the sun come out without worrying who is following the light.”

“That sounds nice.” Illusion opined, thoughtfully.

The Immortal chewed the inside of his cheek. “Small, achievable.” he allowed. “Alright, you’ve restored my faith.”

Tired green eyes dragged over the weary group before landing back on the Immortal. “If you can, and I know it is a massive ask, keep your mouth closed...at least until we get there.”

“Crab.” the Ambassador said.

Wraith raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“Crab.” the mer woman said again, pointing. The next branching gallery was empty like the others, but the faded mosaic beneath the doorway showed the image of a jewel-shelled sea crab.

“Like the Teacher said.” Illusion breathed, and then pointed. “I see it!”

Nestled among the boxes and books stacked across the shelves was a distinctive gold leaf case, dusty with neglect. Illusion ran forward, but as she reached out for the box a flare of light filled the room, and the mage whipped her hand back as if stung.

“Ow! Fuck!”

“What is it?” Wraith asked, striding forward.

“I don’t know.” Illusion muttered, flexing her burned hand. “Barrier magic’s not my strong point.”

“No, it’s mine.” the Immortal said, with a hint of his usual pride. There was a pause. “And I won’t know what the hell it is either until you hold me up, Ambie.”

The Ambassador blinked, and then hurried into the room, drawing the head out from under her cloak. The Immortal cocked an eyebrow, and Wanderer could feel runesign sizzling through the air as he regarded the innocuous golden case.

“It’s a ward.” the Immortal surmised. “The kind mages put around their runes to keep other people from stealing their shit. In layman’s terms, it’s a phantasmagorial barrier.”

The Ambassador tilted her head. “Phanta-what?”

Wraith looked between them and folded his arms. “Traditionally, big words are for philosophers, not mages.”

“Well philosophically traditions are for idiots,” the Immortal countered. “So there.” There was another, smaller flash, and the crackle of runesign vanished from the air. “There, it’s all yours. But we now have a big problem.”

“What?” Illusion asked, her eyebrows twitching in alarm.

“No, not what. Why. This was a ridiculously elaborate rune to cast around a random scroll. And the Leveler didn’t know we were looking for it until after we left the Risen city.”

The Immortal huffed out a sigh.

“Which means she’s already here, and standing right behind us.”

“Well, you’d be right about that.” a contralto voice admitted.

The Leveler was standing in the main gallery, framed by the door arch leading into the crab section. She stood clad in regal silks, hair pinned up, hands clasped behind her back. On her left side was Redmoor, scarlet-robed and twitching, and the Apprentice with a grim, resigned look on his young face. To her right was the Blademaiden, sabre drawn, and the Hole, starlit hair shimmering dully in the candle light.

Illusion balled her fists. Wraith drew his paired swords with a hiss of intent.

“I guess that means the time for sneaking around is over.” the Immortal grunted. A blaze of light rippled and spread across the entrance to the side gallery, shielding the group behind a crackling, shimmering wall. The disembodied head narrowed his eyes, features drawn down in a scowl.

“Alright Leveler. You owe me a body. Which means you owe me a fucking moonstone.”

The Leveler was unmoved. “I don’t owe you anything, Dara, son of Rhianne.”

Wanderer had a split second to see the Immortal’s lips part in shock, before a far brighter spray of light overwhelmed her senses. For a moment the group’s shadows splashed giant and jagged across the walls, the Leveler and her men dire silhouettes framed in the warded archway.

Then the light faded. The wards fizzled away into nothing. And the head in Ambassador’s hands hung unmoving, its dark eyes glazed and lifeless.

“Your Teacher talked.” the Leveler shrugged, brushing the sleeve of her gown. She locked eyes with the remaining mages. “I’d ask who the rest of you are, but you’re going to be dead in a moment. Hand over the Book and I might let you live slightly longer.”

Illusion sidestepped to bring herself shoulder to shoulder with Wanderer. “Never.”

The Apprentice dropped his gaze. Redmoor smirked. The Leveler herself just exhaled down her nose, a slow breath of disappointment. “How did I know you were going to be difficult.”

“You are like icicle, Leveler.” Ambassador said quietly, still holding on to the Immortal’s lifeless head.

The Leveler rolled her eyes. “What, cold?”

“No, fragile and doomed.” The Ambassador’s eyes drifted from the Leveler onto the Hole. “You play with powers you do not understand.”

The Leveler peeled back her lips for a brief moment, baring her teeth. “You’d be surprised how often I hear that. Spare me the banter, the obvious jokes and the cliches.”

She raised her arms, and screaming light began to build between her splayed fingers.

“Just die.”

Wraith glanced over at Wanderer and Illusion. “Grab the scroll!”

Sparks flew up like a cloud of fireflies as Wraith’s swords swept outwards, trailing flame. Old, bone-dry paper caught light in an instant, and a blinding scatter of embers swirled through the air.

Azazeal849
08-18-2019, 08:30 PM
The Wanderer didn’t know what she had expected of the Leveler. A tall massive mountain of a woman, one whose muscles made even the strongest of men quiver with fear. Or perhaps a rattish woman whose mind was her greatest weapon. A woman who had been torn from the mines just like her. The scars that littered Wanderer’s body told her story clearer than any word could. Not this. Not this...woman. A slave would not stand so comfortably in those silks, they would never think they truly deserved them. The pride and confidence she stood with...this was forced into her mind from birth. The Leveler was no slave trying to right the world, she was a disgruntled woman of wealth...and that made the Wanderer furious.

Her axe slipped in her grip, letting the head of the axe gently hit the group before her fingers tightened back around the handle. She had to hope that none of them knew that she had strength on her side. She hadn’t used it fully when dealing with the scumbag from before, it still echoed in her bones, waiting for the right moment….

Dara, son of Rhianne.

Dots of light took their time disappearing from her view. She had forgotten that. She had forgotten that he was human. That he had a name. That he had a mother. Fuck. His eyes were still open but no life remained. Shock still etched onto his features.

Tears gathered, threatening to spill onto her cheeks. Yes, she had joked before that she would rejoice the day he was gone from them...but she had never truly meant it. Hell, if he had remained a loaf, she would have taken him with her. He could have watched the sunrise on the highest peak with her when this was all over.

The Leveler shrugged. She took the life of another so easily...and all she could do was shrug afterwards. It had no effect on her at all. Illusion stepped beside her and Wanderer raised her axe, shielding the woman from the others. Her eyes burned a hole through the skull of the Apprentice. Ambassador spoke to the Leveler but she was of no concern to the Wanderer.

“Every drop of blood shed today will be on your hands. I hope our faces haunt you.”

Her gaze never left the Apprentice. He may have his eyes on the ground but she knew that he would feel those words on his soul.

Sparks flew up like a cloud of fireflies as Wraith’s swords swept outwards, trailing flame. Old, bone-dry paper caught light in an instant, and a blinding scatter of embers swirled through the air.

Before she could open her mouth again, sparks licked at their skin. The Wanderer jumped backwards, dragging the Illusion with her. “Move. Go.” she told the woman, “Do whatever you have to.”

Clenching her left hand, she tried to help the distraction created by the Wraith. This was an old library. Dust filled every corner, lined every bookshelf, even the texts themselves had dust burrowed into their covers. Rage always seemed to have an effect on her powers. Dust joined the clouds of smoke before shooting forward, aiming for those that had been attacked before. Mages shielding their faces from the burning embers reeled again as everything became a blinding haze. The Leveler cursed as her focus was broken, shards of lightning chasing across the floor as she flinched away. A sliding table thunked into the wall as the Apprentice lost control of his telekinesis.

Commanding the battle, a roar erupted from Leveler's Hole, her dear, wild, star-struck killer who kept her vision on the sheltered Mer female among them. The final encounter, the last fight before world liberation! A glimpse of movement through the grey fog was all it took. At Leveler's front, Hole opened with a wave of her hand, releasing acid needles straight to the Ambassador. She saw the Mer stumble and clutch at her shoulder, crying out as one of the fizzing needles raked past her upper arm. The others thunked into wood and stone, hissing venomously as they dissolved.

Suddenly the Wraith was there, hauling the Ambassador behind him with a swirl of his cloak. One of his swords flicked out and more fire streamed from it; a blazing arm lashing a red-orange whip. Blademaiden stepped to Hole’s side and a shimmering dome enveloped them both, the fire clawing over it as it washed to either side. Bookshelves caught fire, records and histories bursting into flame.

Redmoor staggered back, spitting out a glob of dusty saliva, and found himself surrounded by library patrons who had come running towards the noise instead of fleeing away from it. They stared wide eyed, clamouring questions.

“What is the point of you?” Redmoor bellowed at them, his eye and cheek spasming. “Get water, you dumb fucks! That fire isn’t sacred to the gods, it’s the kind that needs putting out!”

“No!” a curator yelled, waving his voluminous sleeves. “Water will damage the scrolls!”

A burning bookcase popped, spitting a cloud of burning paper fragments. Redmoor’s head wrenched to one side, and a runecraft prickle thrummed through the air as the stones pillars around him shivered with jagged cracks. “ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?”

“Call the guard!” Leveler shouted over him, slashing an arm in furious command. “The guard, now! The rest of you, with me!”

Illusion barred their path, and the Hole opened with a quick attack at the first contender standing before the Leveler and her followers.

It was only a phantom of light; the mixed woman's sparkling star weapon cut through the deception, prompting it to begin fading and leave her without an opponent. Turning behind her, the Leveler's aggressive Hole waited for the woman's insertion.

"I can't see past the smoke." she admitted, lowering her eyes with shame.

“Stay close.” Blademaiden advised, taking the lead with sword drawn. Her blade ran with liquid light.


* * * * * *

Their quarry were already fleeing across the library, cloaked in smoke and dust. Wraith was dragging the Ambassador, while Illusion divided and divided again as she ran, mirror images sprinting off in different directions or standing their ground to give the pursuers pause. The real Illusion had the scroll in one hand, and was fumbling with the Book of Names with the other.

Wanderer’s sole concern was Illusion. She needed to keep the woman safe. She could read and she could interpret the texts. The Wanderer knew that if it was up to her...they would die in seconds. Her grubby fingers would drag over the letters and she would fail. She would fail them all. The concern was Illusion. The Wanderer kept close to her, shielding her back from any potential attacks. The area was bursting with life. Men and women were running towards the library. She had never seen this area so...chaotic. In past days, it would be neat and quiet. People walked in straight lines towards the library and other important buildings; if there was any noise it was from pleading slaves.

A man barged past the Wanderer, throwing her off her path. She reached her free hand out and rested it on the back of Illusion.

“Calm. You can do this. As soon as you know it, scream it as loud as you can.” She gave the woman a nod before turning, axe raised before her body. “I have your back.”

The Illusion nodded with silent determination. She halted beneath a skylight that was draining the fire smoke, granting them some respite from the choking fumes. Above them, thunder rumbled in the grey sky.

Her chin was raised up as she took two steps away from the woman, prepared to defend their last chance to her dying breath. She could hear the Leveler’s mages approaching, calling to each other through the chaos. Smoke crawled across the ceiling in pale waves, and the fire cast shadows that her imagination turned into long-limbed creatures, clawing across the walls.

“Just picture them…” Illusion mumbled to herself, remembering what the Teacher had said. She fumbled the Book open to a random page and splayed her hand to hold it flat. “Which one was the symbol for Leveler?”

“Think.” Wraith urged as he took up position across from Wanderer. The Ambassador was close behind, her eyes wide, still gripping the Immortal’s lifeless head.

“I’m thinking.” Illusion protested.

“Think harder.”

“I’M THINKING!”

“Think faster!” Wraith yelled back, and sent a blaze of lightning jagging from his sword tips as a familiar group took shape through the smoke.


* * * * * *

Apprentice’s throat was raw, dry with the taste of burning ash. The smoke was stinging his eyes, threatening to close them. Around him beams of rune-cast light flashed, causing the air to scream.

He wanted to have faith, but it seemed to have deserted him. He looked at Blademaiden, her mouth set in a grim line as she stalked forward. She used to have faith too, but now she only mentions duty. He was not so sure that he had either any more.

He looked at the Hole; the woman he had once called a friend, now alien in almost everything except her devotion to the Leveler. How do you keep your faith, Cara? he wondered. Is this what you pictured after we won back the Ash city?

The Leveler fired a ray of killing light through the first enemy to show themselves, and swore when it proved to be just another of Illusion’s phantoms. In reply a flicker of lightning burst across the gallery floor, shattering the tiles and filling the smoky air with the metallic reek of ozone.

The Leveler’s mages bolted for cover behind columns and bookcases. The Leveler herself stood her ground, great bolts of scream-light lashing from her hands. Her face was an inhuman snarl. The Apprentice noticed that the fingertips of her right arm - her regrown arm - had burned and blackened from the runic discharge, but his mistress gave no sign of having felt it.

He glanced around, looking for something he could jerk up and throw with a pull of his runecraft, but as soon as he leaned round the column a burst of sparks cracked off it, almost blinding him.

“Shield me, will you?” he yelled across at Blademaiden.

Blademaiden was struggling to advance, her bubble of protective magic pushing against the coiling snakes of Wraith’s lightning. She laughed grimly at his request. “Could you ask someone who’s not up to their neck in enemy heroes?”

Apprentice looked around again. “Where the fuck is Redmoor!?”


* * * * * *

It was the Ambassador’s cry that alerted them. Redmoor had worked his way forward around the edge of the gallery, his red cloak swirling around him as he limped through the smoke. One of Illusion’s phantoms lunged at him from behind a stone column, but he let the projection’s blade sweep through him, his dark eyes fixed on the real Illusion huddled over the Book.

“No tricks this time, traitor!” he shouted, the tic-spasms wrenching at his face. He swept a thin arm round, and a lump of marble the size of a horse tore itself free of the wall and came rushing towards Illusion and the others.

It stopped in midair. Wanderer saw Redmoor through an oil-slick shimmer, trapped within a bubble. His eyes widened in recognition of the spell, and had just begun to raise towards the roof when the chunk of hovering rock threw itself sideways into a nearby stone column. The column exploded into pinging fragments, and the roof above it gave way.

There was a roar of falling masonry, and a shattering of dislodged roof tiles, and Redmoor vanished beneath them. Another figure, also red, swung down from the skylight and dropped to the floor, her cloak fanning behind her like scarlet wings.

“Was that a fair fight?” she asked, cocking her head at Wanderer.

“Red!” the Ambassador exclaimed, unnecessarily.

Red switched her gaze towards the Mer, a smile playing across her thin lips. “Hello Ambie. I knew that wherever you went was going to be interesting.”

“What kept you?” Wraith asked sourly.

“I knew you’d be coming to Ash eventually. I just had to wait for the screams to start and follow them.” Red smirked, and looked at Wanderer. “So who do you need me to kill?”

If it had been any other time, she would have rolled her eyes at Red. But now, they needed her more than ever. The Wanderer had forgotten that she knew little about these bastards’ powers, flying slabs of marble at Illusion hadn't been at the forefront of her mind.

"Kill anyone who isn't us." she yelled at the woman. "Illusion needs time. We need to give it to her."

Azazeal849
08-21-2019, 06:23 PM
The Apprentice cast a blinding flash across the gallery, and Blademaiden darted forward, only to be met blade-to-blade by the crushing, lightning-wrapped arcs of Wraith’s swords. The Leveler was in the centre of the gallery, hurling fire, rocks, and spears of black shadow indiscriminately into the smoke.

She looked round at Hole, and the starlit mage saw that her eyes were smeared pink by the smoke and by the runecraft surging through her. “Would it be asking too much for you to kill something!?” she thundered.

Hole turned back once to the unfolding battle. In the haze their liberator was the beacon, light searing from her hands like the golden promise of better tomorrows was in her grasp.

That earthly power was worth everything. The Leveler's being demanded she surrender everything for freedom. Her words change the world, she must continue to speak! In a flurry of movement, the Hole swirled her starry pike, bringing forth the strange cloudy construct, partially obscured in the smoke.

Its twinkling, alien light flickered through the burning library, Cara’s hair its midnight cloak as she mounted upon its back. Taking the cloudy beast ahead, Cara screamed, raising her pike above her as a freedom fighter.

The absolute speed of the beast whipped her hair back as they cut through the smoke, its loosely bound figure creating no sense of weight or power in its charge. Gliding on the back of her creation, the mixed woman came upon the group like the end of sunlight: bringing the time of darkness. The cosmic figure beneath her leaped over the front line, filling Hole's lungs with the library's burning scraps. She saw figures blurring by beneath her - a ragged woman, a familiar figure in red, a masked giant locked blade to blade with one of Leveler’s chosen. All eyes were drawn up, mouths agape as her beast soared over them.

Watery eyed, she looked for the shining hair of the Mer who had dared touch her mind. Such beauty was seen even in the obscurity of destruction, Hole waited moments for her rise to fall. Next to the Ambassador, with brazen, death-crazed recklessness among the Leveler's antagonists, she drove her pike straight through the lithe beauty, feeding her rune-weapon the blood of the Mer's heart.

"THE WORLD IS THE LEVELER'S, WE ARE FREE!"

The Ambassador’s hands came up to clutch at the pike driven through her. Cara saw sea foam bubbling at her lips and leaking from her eyes in place of blood and tears. As she struggled with the weight impaled on the end of her pike, a furious scream turned her. The turn saved her life as the blade aimed at the gap between shoulder-guard and neck crunched into metal instead, the full leaping weight of the red woman carving through her armour and jarring against bone. Cara thought she heard the Apprentice shouting her name, but over the runesign keening through the air she couldn’t be sure.

Both Cara and Red tumbled from the cosmic monster’s back. The Ambassador’s knees hit the floor at the same time as they did, followed by the back of her head as the Mer slumped to the ground still impaled on the pike. Cara’s mount reared, screeching the fury of distant stars.

Wraith fell back from Blademaiden, fired off a burst of flames to give himself space, and sent the creature tumbling away with a flicker-blast of white lightning. “Quickly!” he implored Illusion.

Illusion gripped her head, struggling to focus through the screams and the carnage. From memory of Wanderer’s dust-raised letters, she had narrowed the scrawls down to two. Ignore the squiggle, it’s in all of them, it must mean ‘child of’... Her heartbeat was thudding wetly at her temples as she slapped a hand down on the scroll of Ancient Ash letters. And that’s an M...

“The music’s still playing, Wraith!” Blademaiden shouted in challenge. “May I have this dance?”

Wraith’s swords came round, dragging contrails of flashing light. Blademaiden skipped round them, her own rune-bright sabre lashing out.

Still guarding Illusion’s back, Wanderer saw the flame-shadows on the walls begin to twist, forming thorny tentacles that began to slither down towards the floor. As they fell they grew more solid, more sharp.

“ENOUGH!” the Leveler screamed as she came stalking through the whirling ash, broken fingers of smoke clawing at her robes.

Illusion whirled, surging to her feet as she thrust a slender finger straight towards Leveler. “Mira, child of Gail!”

A blinding flash filled the gallery, banishing the tarry shadows that the Leveler was conjuring. At the centre of the light a figure stumbled, a black silhouette at the centre of the white, until the released magic faded and the empty shell was revealed.

Not the Leveler.

Blademaiden.

Wraith caught himself on his back foot, one arm still up to shield his half-blinded eyes. Lightning sparked and growled around his sword blades. He saw Blademaiden’s eyes lock onto his own through his mask. There was pain in them - and resignation - and pride. A smile ghosted across the woman’s lips, only to be hidden by the guard of her sabre as she raised the depowered weapon to her face in salute. She charged.


* * * * * *

Wanderer heard Illusion swear, and a rustle of papers as she scrabbled for the second name. She didn’t get the chance as the Leveler yelled a curse and sent a stormfront of rune energy ripping towards them. Wanderer saw it as a bow wave folding and tearing at the mosaic floor, before it lifted her and Illusion up and hurled them across the library, bookcases splintering and shattering as they collided. Somehow, she was able to snatch the scroll out of the air before it was lost among the debris.

The roof caved, admitting a sheet of rain which met the rising dust and ashes and turned them into gobbets of liquid tar. Illusion coughed on the mix as she fought to rise, the Book still clutched to her chest.

Pain ricocheted through the Wanderer’s skull. Her vision doubled as small flecks of wooden bookcases danced through the air. A shaky breath left her dry lips as she pushed herself to her feet once again.

“Are you o-” Illusion began, but it turned into a cry of “Look out!” as she looked past Wanderer to what was storming towards them from the great exterior doors.

“Those who oppose the Leveler oppose me!”

The shout came from a man, punctuated by the tramp of five armoured guards running at his side. Wanderer recognised him as the man Illusion had nearly rushed down to the punishment stakes to kill. Up close, she could see that he had his daughter’s red hair and hazel-brown eyes, though these eyes were full of fanatical determination.

The sharp cry of Illusion had the Wanderer shaking her head, trying to regain her vision. Recognition hit the man leading the charge; he looked Illusion’s double. The same determined hazel brown eyes. Wanderer’s trusty axe was gripped tightly as she let her gaze drift to the five men behind the red haired man. Soldiers; no doubt former slaves, like the ones she had fought at the rune mine.

“Sage?” The leading man’s eyes slid off Wanderer without recognition, but widened in shock when they fell upon Illusion. They darted to the tome in her hands, and blazed anew as the man understood what he was seeing. His clenched teeth snapped open to loose a shout.

“Sage, daughter of Scar-!

Wanderer paused letting the family recognise each other until a familiar name left his lips. In one swift movement, her axe was hauled up. Rage filled his face, etching into deep lines on his forehead. A name that should be said with love with spoke with such hatred. Not when their child was still living. It was a blessing that Illusion had survived...this should be a time of joy...not pure hatred.

That familiar warmth flooded through her muscles. The axe was hauled back and swiftly brought forward making contact with the man’s exposed throat. The weapon slid through flesh and muscle like it were softened butter. Her left hand swung forward to grip the man by the front of his shirt. Blood trickled down his chest in large clots as she let the sight of his death sink into the minds of those who followed him.

“You keep her name out of your mouth.”

With little effort she threw the man behind her, letting the corpse slide towards his daughter as she stood watching with mouth hanging open. “I’ve got these five, Illusion.”

She swung the blood slick axe at the men before her. The small woman was filled with a rage deeper than any of them could fathom. It radiated from her skin in every movement.

“Come on then.”

Two of them did, but after Wanderer crushed them aside with superhuman ease the remaining three were not so keen. They edged back, clutching their spears. Scrabbling with the Book on the floor, Illusion sucked in a sudden breath; half a gasp and half a laugh.

“It’s Evelyn!” she cried out, looking up at Wanderer. “And her mother is…”

Black, slithering shadows raced across the floor to coil up her legs, wrestling her up into the air. They coiled around her, thick ropes of glistening black. When she opened her mouth to scream, they poured down her throat. The Book and the Scroll fell from her hands as she struggled, landing near Wanderer’s feet.

Her axe was slick with the blood of two of them. Sh had raised for the next when Illusion shouted. She sounded so hopeful, that hope was wrestled from her with the shadows of the Leveller. The book landed with a thud by her feet and the wanderer felt every small flicker of hope she had felt previously disappear as she realised what was happening.


* * * * * *

Downed, Hole was in a life or death struggle with Red. Her right shoulder was a geyser of blood, tensing her face with pain. A bestial focus was in her eyes even as her joint threatened to fail her. With a quick wit the blood was made her weapon, her left hand smearing itself in the juices of her wound and diving into Red's mouth.

The woman who had been screaming in a fit of angered grief was soiled with the taste of Hole's blood. The runic fluids instantly brought a sickness, bringing the icy chills and defiance of her digestive tract. Before Hole could pull her fingers out, Red hurled, spraying vomit across Hole's hand, up and around Red's mouth. The woman's grip of her blade faltered, shivering with poison.

Rolling over, Hole, the sparkling murderess, grabbed the sword which was once to end her life and dove it through Red's vomit-stained face, cutting through the forehead and out the back of the skull. Huffing on top of the quivering body, another enemy of the Leveler was slain and the Hole rose to her feet gradually, stealing Red's sword and in search of her next target. One hand dripped with blood, the other with a dead woman's sick. Though the real illness was in the searching eyes, detached from the debauchery of her methods.

All around her was death. Redmoor, the Ambassador, the red woman - even the faithful Blademaiden, lying with her sabre cleaved in two beside her. Wraith was gone, running towards the other battle, but he would be too late. Leveler had the traitor Illusion in a vice, choked by runic shadows while the Wanderer could only look on in horror.

Her liberator had won.

Azazeal849
09-29-2019, 09:31 AM
The shadows formed a great black fist around Illusion, ready to crush the life out of her. The Leveler stood with her own fist clenched, held out in front of her as she stalked towards them. The Apprentice followed behind her, a pale shadow.

“Shh.” Leveler soothed the struggling Illusion. “It’s alright. It’ll be over soon.” Her bloodshot eyes darted towards Wanderer. “Who was this one, again?”

She didn’t gift the Leveler her gaze. Instead it burned through the bowed head of the Apprentice.

The Apprentice’s eyes flickered to the scroll at Wanderer’s feet, then to the Leveler, then to the floor. “Wanderer. The slave, like me. She can’t read.”

His words started that bubbling rage. She could feel it pin prickling through her chest, snaking up her back and gripping her by the throat.

The Leveler almost visibly relaxed, but her eyes hardened. “You’re a traitor to your people, Wanderer. If you’d rather stand with the Lightmen, then you can perish at the hand of their god.”

Finally, she allowed her gaze to snap to the Leveler. The rage in her eyes was like a rabid dog ...a desperate cornered rabid dog that would do anything to escape.

The last word dissolved into a hiss as the Leveler’s face seemed to twist and stretch, bulging outwards to accommodate pale, dripping fangs. Scales spread around her eyes and down her neck as she reared upwards, taller and taller, shredding out of her silken robes. In a heartbeat nothing remained of the woman, only a vast black-scaled snake that thudded to the ground and came winding towards her, forked tongue darting, jaws hinging wide.

Only Mer can change their form. Only Mer can change their form. The words stung as she mouthed them silently. She was just a slave. She couldn’t even read. She was nothing...how was she to stop this thing before her by herself? Rain stained the paper pages of the book by her feet. She let her eyes glance down, knowing full well that if she tried this..it was her last chance. She would never again look up at the sky if her words were false.

The Book was at Wanderer’s feet, the pages spotting and running as the rain fell on them. The Leveler’s symbol jumped out at her as if the letters were made of fire. Beside it was a meaningless jumble of glyphs that Illusion had insisted meant Evelyn, child of… Child of who? The last phrase was short, but it might as well have been the language of suns and stars.

His words echoed in her mind. Over and over again. “The slave, like me. She can’t read.” Evelyn. She had heard that clearly when Illusion had triumphantly screamed it.

The Scroll lay next to it, two columns of blocky, carefully inked symbols, as if designed for children. The first jagged glyph from the name was next to a symbol that she was sure was ‘i’...but the other three -

The other three. She knew them immediately, because they were the last three letters of her own name. O-N-A. Wanderer might only be able to read like a child, but she knew her own name. The letters that she had scraped into the mud while Illusion watched.

A-G-R-O-N-A.

I...O-N-A.

Iona.

Evelyn, child of Iona.

She could hear that fat belly scraping across the tiled floor. The rain bouncing off her scaled back as her followers, the few that were left, stood waiting for the end to this small rebellion. The Wanderer knew she was nothing in this world. A slave who escaped and managed to scrounge some runes. She couldn’t even read...She could barely read.

Defiant green eyes turned up to the black snake winding its way closer to her, its jaw wide with a sticky substance glistening on its fangs. This was her last stand. She had nothing else to protect her now.

The words were strange on her lips. A name not uttered for years. Something precious. Something so very powerful.

“Evelyn, daughter of Iona.”

Wanderer wouldn’t have thought it possible to see shock in the eyes of a serpent.

A low vibration coursed through her, too low for sound, shivering her ribcage faster and faster until it rose into hearing as a very human scream. Light boiled across the library, banishing every shadow, fracturing into brilliant rainbows as it passed through the sheeting rain.

Candles snuffed out as if caught in a driving wind. Illusion dropped to the ground as the glistening ropes that had bound her evaporated, like mist before the sun. She fell with a thud, retching. Apprentice and the Ash guards were reeling, arms thrown up to their faces as they tried to shut out the light. At the centre of the blaze Wanderer could make out a great shape writhing, twisting into coiled knots as it screamed.

And shrinking. Before her eyes the vast snake was withering, growing smaller and paler, curling and cowering down. Gaping jaws became a tortured face. Scaly coils became arms wrapped around a bowed head, fingers clawing at the scalp through straggling hair. The light pulsed once, guttered out. And when darkness fell there was only the Leveler, curled in on herself on the shattered mosaic floor.

Water dripped from her rain-soaked hair, and traced rivulets across her bare, gooseprickled skin. She was trembling as she lurched onto all fours, her arms seeming to quake with the effort of simply holding herself upright.

“No…” There was no command in the contralto voice now. No confidence, no malice. Only shivering terror. “No, no, no, NO!”

None of the Ashmen seemed able to move. They stood like statues, immobile against the swirling rain.

Illusion coughed, began to crawl. Wraith slowly lowered his swords, alone in a pool of light as his rune-lit blades danced rays across his silent iron mask. His eyes found Wanderer’s from behind the slits.

Alone in the middle of the gallery, the Leveler slumped onto her side and curled into a foetal ball. Her blackened right hand was cupped to her stomach, cradling something that shone pale and blue through her fingers.

The Wanderer would never get that scream out of her skull. It felt so familiar. Pain filled every moment of it and it had originated from deep within the Levellers bones. It was like the fall of a god. Power had radiated from her with every movement...now she was shivering like a beaten dog. Droplets of water hit the tiles beneath her face as her cries shook from her chest. The once supreme Leveler looked more like a child.

Cara watched freedom die. The synapses of her mind stopped and she became nothing. A stare honed and void, her body without a flinch. The humanizing figure on the floor swallowed her sight. In Hole's reality this was inconceivable; there existed no way for the devoted to think her goddess, her living sense of justice, would perish or worse, fail.

The entirety of Hole's devotion had been built upon a promise. Freedom for all had cleared every obstacle, had come within moments of victory, to end. That promise, reinforced by all the blood on Cara's hands was now a lie.

"G...get up my lady…" Cara whispered to the whimpering Leveler on the ground. Nothing came of it, no steps were made. Her ruler was entirely without power.

"Leveler...Le...AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" Shattering into pieces, Hole's mind ripped open through layers of paradigms, beyond the shattered gates of once iron-sealed faith. Sweating, manic with confusion and rich in panic, the Hole had no future without Leveler leading it.

Her screaming took over the ruined library.

Scared whispers left the lips of the woman across from them. Scared whispers quickly devolved into a gut-wrenching screech. The Wanderer flinched violently as she had not expected such a passionate response.

“S...Stop….”

Her words faltered until a surge of confidence tingled through her body. Steaming from her ankle where the Illusion had touched her bare skin, the older woman glanced down and saw hope had returned to the youthful face of the Illusion.

“STOP.” She let her words carry across to the small group. “It is done.”

Looking around she saw guards and civilians looking at each other, whispering. The same name was on every tongue. The Leveler. Evelyn, daughter of Iona. Some of them turned and fled the library. Rain pattered against the broken floor.

The Wanderer raised her chin to look at the group across from her. “There will be no more fighting. I am no more a traitor to my people than you are to yours. This must become a thing of the past. No more should one person hold so much power. No more.”

The Apprentice limped forward. “And what will you do with the Moonstone, huh? Go on your own rampage based on what you think is right?”

His eyes held the pain of a loyal son who had done everything ever asked of him, and yet seen all his works die in bloody futility. For a moment, he and Wanderer stared each other down. I’ll win that battle, Wanderer knew. The problem was, the other former slave did not know it.

At the last, the Apprentice turned away.

“I was with her, you know.” he said, his gaze dropping to the floor and dragging across to the shivering Leveler. “When we found the Moonstone. We knew it was powerful, even if we didn’t realise what it was - and the Immortal had beaten us to so many other Seeker caches, we were loathe to let him have this one. I remember how she burned when she touched it.”

At the sound of his voice, the defeated Leveler raised her head fractionally. Her blackened hand curled tighter around her stomach.

The Wanderer tried not to lash out at the Apprentice. How dare he say his name. How dare he think they were better than the Immortal. If he could have heard her thoughts, she knew that loaf’s ego would soar highwards...would have soared...She couldn’t bring herself to cast a glance over at the lifeless skull.

“She said it wasn’t safe to share,” the Apprentice said quietly, looking back at Wanderer. “And after what happened to Hole, I believed her. She told us what it was. I asked her if she knew what it meant for us. That it could be her symbol of the new order. She said that it would be her reason that we would never fear anyone again. Not the Old Masters, not the Lightmen, no-one. We’d be invincible. I trusted her to use that power to protect us. I wanted to believe.”

Illusion struggled to her feet to stand beside Wanderer. Her eyes were on the Apprentice.

“I did too.” she said.

“You…” Leveler rasped from the floor. She was struggling to raise her head in the Apprentice’s direction. “Lied...you...said she couldn’t read...”

The Apprentice’s shoulders slumped in defeat. “I didn’t know if she could or not. But it was the one thing I could say that would stop you from killing her right away.”

The Leveler’s eyes crinkled, glistening as she processed the second betrayal. Her left hand made a fist and slapped down wetly against the mosaic tiles. Her forehead bowed to rest on the trembling fist, hair falling like a curtain to hide her grief-contorted face.

“No one is invincible.” The Wanderer spoke softly. There was little pity for the mess of a woman before her.

There was a clatter of dropped swords as more guards fled the library. The rain continued to weep down through the broken roof, plastering the Apprentice’s curly hair to his face. He raised his dark eyes towards Wanderer.

“So what happens now?”

Abandoned at center stage, the Hole entered the scene and fell beside the Leveler. Sprawling in a desperate plea everyone around the two women became obscure in her view - no, invisible as Cara had to see their leader this way. In the wet Hole accepted Evelyn's fingers, holding them in the warmth of her touch.

"This...is a mistake. You will stand again, won't you? Please...if you don't free us the chains will come back" Beginning to soak with the Leveler, the half-mad woman seemed to speak as if slavery were a beast alive and capable of action.

“The chains will never return.” She looked not at the Hole but at the Apprentice who seemed thoroughly defeated. “You killed half of the slavers and the others will never be able to stand proudly again. You have allowed slaves to hold runes, to hold power for the first time in their lives. Do you really think they will allow chains to slink back around their throats?” There was a small pause, a chain would never rule her life again.

The Apprentice’s hand rose to massage his neck, plucking at the scarf that hid his collar scars. “You…” he said quietly. “We…”

“You are free. You are all free.” That was aimed at the woman who huddled beside the Leveller. “What happens now...the Mer…” The Wanderer finally looked to her right, seeing exactly who in their group had fallen. The Mer lay lifeless. “We return the moonstone to the Mer...or we destroy it. You said it was not safe to share but we know it is not safe for one person to hold it by themselves. It is either given back or destroyed. Only then can we move forward.”

“No…” It was the barest whisper, but it was enough to make them look down. The Leveler’s hand clawed harder into Hole’s, nails digging into her brown skin. Her voice was a hoarse rasp, forced through gritted teeth. “You’ll never have it.” The sharp cut was the jolt of a quickened chance dashing with the fleeing pain. If Hole did not bend herself to Leveler's quiet command now, then she herself had no hope.

“Cara,” the Apprentice blurred as he sensed the building magic, “Wait!”

The Leveler threatened a dark promise and in smoke was gone. With her, the last follower had ensured Evelyn, daughter of Iona exited from possible demise.

- - - Updated - - -

The shadows formed a great black fist around Illusion, ready to crush the life out of her. The Leveler stood with her own fist clenched, held out in front of her as she stalked towards them. The Apprentice followed behind her, a pale shadow.

“Shh.” Leveler soothed the struggling Illusion. “It’s alright. It’ll be over soon.” Her bloodshot eyes darted towards Wanderer. “Who was this one, again?”

She didn’t gift the Leveler her gaze. Instead it burned through the bowed head of the Apprentice.

The Apprentice’s eyes flickered to the scroll at Wanderer’s feet, then to the Leveler, then to the floor. “Wanderer. The slave, like me. She can’t read.”

His words started that bubbling rage. She could feel it pin prickling through her chest, snaking up her back and gripping her by the throat.

The Leveler almost visibly relaxed, but her eyes hardened. “You’re a traitor to your people, Wanderer. If you’d rather stand with the Lightmen, then you can perish at the hand of their god.”

Finally, she allowed her gaze to snap to the Leveler. The rage in her eyes was like a rabid dog ...a desperate cornered rabid dog that would do anything to escape.

The last word dissolved into a hiss as the Leveler’s face seemed to twist and stretch, bulging outwards to accommodate pale, dripping fangs. Scales spread around her eyes and down her neck as she reared upwards, taller and taller, shredding out of her silken robes. In a heartbeat nothing remained of the woman, only a vast black-scaled snake that thudded to the ground and came winding towards her, forked tongue darting, jaws hinging wide.

Only Mer can change their form. Only Mer can change their form. The words stung as she mouthed them silently. She was just a slave. She couldn’t even read. She was nothing...how was she to stop this thing before her by herself? Rain stained the paper pages of the book by her feet. She let her eyes glance down, knowing full well that if she tried this..it was her last chance. She would never again look up at the sky if her words were false.

The Book was at Wanderer’s feet, the pages spotting and running as the rain fell on them. The Leveler’s symbol jumped out at her as if the letters were made of fire. Beside it was a meaningless jumble of glyphs that Illusion had insisted meant Evelyn, child of… Child of who? The last phrase was short, but it might as well have been the language of suns and stars.

His words echoed in her mind. Over and over again. “The slave, like me. She can’t read.” Evelyn. She had heard that clearly when Illusion had triumphantly screamed it.

The Scroll lay next to it, two columns of blocky, carefully inked symbols, as if designed for children. The first jagged glyph from the name was next to a symbol that she was sure was ‘i’...but the other three -

The other three. She knew them immediately, because they were the last three letters of her own name. O-N-A. Wanderer might only be able to read like a child, but she knew her own name. The letters that she had scraped into the mud while Illusion watched.

A-G-R-O-N-A.

I...O-N-A.

Iona.

Evelyn, child of Iona.

She could hear that fat belly scraping across the tiled floor. The rain bouncing off her scaled back as her followers, the few that were left, stood waiting for the end to this small rebellion. The Wanderer knew she was nothing in this world. A slave who escaped and managed to scrounge some runes. She couldn’t even read...She could barely read.

Defiant green eyes turned up to the black snake winding its way closer to her, its jaw wide with a sticky substance glistening on its fangs. This was her last stand. She had nothing else to protect her now.

The words were strange on her lips. A name not uttered for years. Something precious. Something so very powerful.

“Evelyn, daughter of Iona.”

Wanderer wouldn’t have thought it possible to see shock in the eyes of a serpent.

A low vibration coursed through her, too low for sound, shivering her ribcage faster and faster until it rose into hearing as a very human scream. Light boiled across the library, banishing every shadow, fracturing into brilliant rainbows as it passed through the sheeting rain.

Candles snuffed out as if caught in a driving wind. Illusion dropped to the ground as the glistening ropes that had bound her evaporated, like mist before the sun. She fell with a thud, retching. Apprentice and the Ash guards were reeling, arms thrown up to their faces as they tried to shut out the light. At the centre of the blaze Wanderer could make out a great shape writhing, twisting into coiled knots as it screamed.

And shrinking. Before her eyes the vast snake was withering, growing smaller and paler, curling and cowering down. Gaping jaws became a tortured face. Scaly coils became arms wrapped around a bowed head, fingers clawing at the scalp through straggling hair. The light pulsed once, guttered out. And when darkness fell there was only the Leveler, curled in on herself on the shattered mosaic floor.

Water dripped from her rain-soaked hair, and traced rivulets across her bare, gooseprickled skin. She was trembling as she lurched onto all fours, her arms seeming to quake with the effort of simply holding herself upright.

“No…” There was no command in the contralto voice now. No confidence, no malice. Only shivering terror. “No, no, no, NO!”

None of the Ashmen seemed able to move. They stood like statues, immobile against the swirling rain.

Illusion coughed, began to crawl. Wraith slowly lowered his swords, alone in a pool of light as his rune-lit blades danced rays across his silent iron mask. His eyes found Wanderer’s from behind the slits.

Alone in the middle of the gallery, the Leveler slumped onto her side and curled into a foetal ball. Her blackened right hand was cupped to her stomach, cradling something that shone pale and blue through her fingers.

The Wanderer would never get that scream out of her skull. It felt so familiar. Pain filled every moment of it and it had originated from deep within the Levellers bones. It was like the fall of a god. Power had radiated from her with every movement...now she was shivering like a beaten dog. Droplets of water hit the tiles beneath her face as her cries shook from her chest. The once supreme Leveler looked more like a child.

Cara watched freedom die. The synapses of her mind stopped and she became nothing. A stare honed and void, her body without a flinch. The humanizing figure on the floor swallowed her sight. In Hole's reality this was inconceivable; there existed no way for the devoted to think her goddess, her living sense of justice, would perish or worse, fail.

The entirety of Hole's devotion had been built upon a promise. Freedom for all had cleared every obstacle, had come within moments of victory, to end. That promise, reinforced by all the blood on Cara's hands was now a lie.

"G...get up my lady…" Cara whispered to the whimpering Leveler on the ground. Nothing came of it, no steps were made. Her ruler was entirely without power.

"Leveler...Le...AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" Shattering into pieces, Hole's mind ripped open through layers of paradigms, beyond the shattered gates of once iron-sealed faith. Sweating, manic with confusion and rich in panic, the Hole had no future without Leveler leading it.

Her screaming took over the ruined library.

Scared whispers left the lips of the woman across from them. Scared whispers quickly devolved into a gut-wrenching screech. The Wanderer flinched violently as she had not expected such a passionate response.

“S...Stop….”

Her words faltered until a surge of confidence tingled through her body. Steaming from her ankle where the Illusion had touched her bare skin, the older woman glanced down and saw hope had returned to the youthful face of the Illusion.

“STOP.” She let her words carry across to the small group. “It is done.”

Looking around she saw guards and civilians looking at each other, whispering. The same name was on every tongue. The Leveler. Evelyn, daughter of Iona. Some of them turned and fled the library. Rain pattered against the broken floor.

The Wanderer raised her chin to look at the group across from her. “There will be no more fighting. I am no more a traitor to my people than you are to yours. This must become a thing of the past. No more should one person hold so much power. No more.”

The Apprentice limped forward. “And what will you do with the Moonstone, huh? Go on your own rampage based on what you think is right?”

His eyes held the pain of a loyal son who had done everything ever asked of him, and yet seen all his works die in bloody futility. For a moment, he and Wanderer stared each other down. I’ll win that battle, Wanderer knew. The problem was, the other former slave did not know it.

At the last, the Apprentice turned away.

“I was with her, you know.” he said, his gaze dropping to the floor and dragging across to the shivering Leveler. “When we found the Moonstone. We knew it was powerful, even if we didn’t realise what it was - and the Immortal had beaten us to so many other Seeker caches, we were loathe to let him have this one. I remember how she burned when she touched it.”

At the sound of his voice, the defeated Leveler raised her head fractionally. Her blackened hand curled tighter around her stomach.

The Wanderer tried not to lash out at the Apprentice. How dare he say his name. How dare he think they were better than the Immortal. If he could have heard her thoughts, she knew that loaf’s ego would soar highwards...would have soared...She couldn’t bring herself to cast a glance over at the lifeless skull.

“She said it wasn’t safe to share,” the Apprentice said quietly, looking back at Wanderer. “And after what happened to Hole, I believed her. She told us what it was. I asked her if she knew what it meant for us. That it could be her symbol of the new order. She said that it would be her reason that we would never fear anyone again. Not the Old Masters, not the Lightmen, no-one. We’d be invincible. I trusted her to use that power to protect us. I wanted to believe.”

Illusion struggled to her feet to stand beside Wanderer. Her eyes were on the Apprentice.

“I did too.” she said.

“You…” Leveler rasped from the floor. She was struggling to raise her head in the Apprentice’s direction. “Lied...you...said she couldn’t read...”

The Apprentice’s shoulders slumped in defeat. “I didn’t know if she could or not. But it was the one thing I could say that would stop you from killing her right away.”

The Leveler’s eyes crinkled, glistening as she processed the second betrayal. Her left hand made a fist and slapped down wetly against the mosaic tiles. Her forehead bowed to rest on the trembling fist, hair falling like a curtain to hide her grief-contorted face.

“No one is invincible.” The Wanderer spoke softly. There was little pity for the mess of a woman before her.

There was a clatter of dropped swords as more guards fled the library. The rain continued to weep down through the broken roof, plastering the Apprentice’s curly hair to his face. He raised his dark eyes towards Wanderer.

“So what happens now?”

Abandoned at center stage, the Hole entered the scene and fell beside the Leveler. Sprawling in a desperate plea everyone around the two women became obscure in her view - no, invisible as Cara had to see their leader this way. In the wet Hole accepted Evelyn's fingers, holding them in the warmth of her touch.

"This...is a mistake. You will stand again, won't you? Please...if you don't free us the chains will come back" Beginning to soak with the Leveler, the half-mad woman seemed to speak as if slavery were a beast alive and capable of action.

“The chains will never return.” She looked not at the Hole but at the Apprentice who seemed thoroughly defeated. “You killed half of the slavers and the others will never be able to stand proudly again. You have allowed slaves to hold runes, to hold power for the first time in their lives. Do you really think they will allow chains to slink back around their throats?” There was a small pause, a chain would never rule her life again.

The Apprentice’s hand rose to massage his neck, plucking at the scarf that hid his collar scars. “You…” he said quietly. “We…”

“You are free. You are all free.” That was aimed at the woman who huddled beside the Leveller. “What happens now...the Mer…” The Wanderer finally looked to her right, seeing exactly who in their group had fallen. The Mer lay lifeless. “We return the moonstone to the Mer...or we destroy it. You said it was not safe to share but we know it is not safe for one person to hold it by themselves. It is either given back or destroyed. Only then can we move forward.”

“No…” It was the barest whisper, but it was enough to make them look down. The Leveler’s hand clawed harder into Hole’s, nails digging into her brown skin. Her voice was a hoarse rasp, forced through gritted teeth. “You’ll never have it.” The sharp cut was the jolt of a quickened chance dashing with the fleeing pain. If Hole did not bend herself to Leveler's quiet command now, then she herself had no hope.

“Cara,” the Apprentice blurred as he sensed the building magic, “Wait!”

The Leveler threatened a dark promise and in smoke was gone. With her, the last follower had ensured Evelyn, daughter of Iona exited from possible demise.

Scottie
10-30-2019, 06:29 PM
Smoke rose from the ground in steaming swirls where the Leveler had been. The fires surrounding them hissed as they were dampened into nothing by the steady rain.

“Where did they go?” Illusion gaped at the floor where Leveler and Hole had vanished, then around the ruined library, and finally at the Apprentice. She seized him by the collar. “Where did they go?”

The Apprentice’s hands hovered, as if trying to decide if he should raise them to shield himself. “We took the Scorpion’s traveller rune.” he said, “The same one he gave you. If that’s the case they can’t be more than a mile away. But if Hole used her own runes they could be anywhere - you know it’s impossible to tell unless you know who she last bonded with.”

“Then she may return.” Wraith’s voice was a low growl, his blades already back in his hands.

The Apprentice considered that for a moment, then exhaled in defeat. “To what end? You...we...have her name now, and soon enough everyone in the city will know it. Including the old slavers and more than a few ambitious slaves. If she doesn’t want the Moonstone taken from her, she can’t set foot in Ash ever again.”

“What about the city of Light hm?” Her eyes had not left the scorched mark on the floor. She had been so close, one swift blow and all their problems would have been solved. “What about the Risemen?” Her frail hands looked old as her grip remained tight on her axe. “Nothing you say will make me feel like this has ended.” Rage filled eyes dragged up to the poor man across from them. “When at full strength, she had the power and presence to command thousands to march behind her… She'll never get those numbers again… But all she needs is one person.”

A side glance was given to the Wraith, she knew that he would agree with her. The masked killer nodded silently. A threat was not truly dead until you could see the blood trickle from their mouth.

“We need to return this book to the Mer…” she said. “Then..then we do all we can do. We fix this mess as best as we can, and we stay vigilant. Always.”

The axe was raised a few inches off the ground as she made her way across to the Apprentice. He looked like a cornered dog, fear sat plainly on his face no matter how hard he tried to hide it. The Wanderer raised her hand to him, ready to brace his arm in an act of acceptance if he took it. "Do you agree?"

The fear was still plain on his face as he searched hers. Slowly, his hand raised from his side, and his manacle-scarred wrist touched Wanderer’s as they clasped arms.

“I agree.” he said. “I make no apologies for freeing other slaves like me. But the Leveler was wrong to take them to war.”

The Wanderer locked eyes with the Apprentice. She could not truly judge him, she would have done the same. She would have broken every shackle if she had the choice...but what the Leveler did was wrong.

“There’s going to be another century of enmity between Light and Ash after this.” Illusion sighed. “But...we can talk to the Blue Lady. Reparations...something to preserve peace.”

“Things will change.” Wraith said. “But as the Ambassador said, not all change is bad.”

“The old way of the slavers needed to die.” the Apprentice affirmed, standing a little straighter.

“So what will you build instead?” the Wraith challenged him.

Illusion blinked. “You?” Her eyes dropped to Wraith’s still-drawn swords. “Not we?”

“I’m going after them.” Wraith said, deadpan. “Sins require punishment, and the Leveler will not escape hers. I will seek her for as long as it takes.”

The Apprentice let out a long sigh, and let his arm fall from Wanderer’s grip. “Cara.” he said. “The Hole’s name is Cara, daughter of Keeva. Please don’t...don’t kill her. She was just like me, until she touched those runes from the fallen star.”

The temptation to raise her hand and slap the man firmly across the face was strong but she held back from the act of violence. The Apprentice was stupider than she had first expected to think that strange woman did not deserve death. She brutally killed others and helped their biggest threat escape. She was just as bad as the Leveler.

“Her fate is in her own hands.” Wraith answered, sternly. He watched as the Apprentice bowed his head in defeat. “But there is no time to lose. I need to go now.”

Illusion stared at the Wraith for a moment, and then flung herself at him and wrapped her arms around his much broader frame. Wraith staggered a little under the force of the tackle.

“I…” he protested. “I don’t really do hugging.”

“Tough shit!” Illusion told him, and clung on tighter before finally letting him go. “Take care.”

The Wanderer turned her body back towards the Wraith. Her arms folded over her chest as she thought for a moment. “If there is anyone who will find them, it is you. I trust you to bring them to justice.” She noted the obvious discomfort of the large man as Illusion wrapped him tightly in a hug. The wanderer shook her head softly with a slight smile crossing her lips as she wandered closer to the two. She raised her hand as before, ready to brace his arm for a final goodbye. Though she knew that his name and legend would continued to be whispered in the wind for many a year to come.

Minkasha
11-18-2019, 10:14 AM
The north slope of the mountain range was a scrub of heather and gorse bushes, none tall enough to shade against the sun’s glare. Behind the Leveler, smoke coiled lazily from the volcano peak that had given the Ash plain its name, the city itself hidden on the far side of the mountain. Ahead, the Beyond stretched away as a hungry desert of cracked earth, until finally it blurred away into the blue of the horizon. Some said that the ancestors had struggled across the Beyond to found the cities of the Valley - if that was true, then the Beyond had to end somewhere.

Everything has an end.

A phantom pain tugged at the Leveler’s stomach, drawing her black hand over to the spot where the Moonstone sat embedded. She thumbed the rough material of the tunic Hole had found for her, without feeling it. She could feel her power coming back to her, slowly, but she had not bothered to will away the char-black flesh around her fingertips. What would have been the point? The regrown limb was a lie, like the Moonstone itself; its power in the end as limited as her own.

And yet she was here, staring off the edge of the world after fleeing the Immortal’s coterie...and all the other mages who would no doubt want to tear that same Moonstone from her body, now she had lost her power to defend it. She was free for now, but what was it worth?

Freedom from responsibility; from power; from any voice in the world she had wanted to change. Once a physical god bound to the fate of the whole Valley, now she stood bound to no-one...and with nothing.

The Elder Brother had but one brother to follow him...and now I only have the Hole, one left from what used to be legions. She dug her feeling hand into the ground, raking the dry earth with her fingernails. Maybe we’ll tear each other apart, like the Brothers did.

Even the Apprentice, her faithful Apprentice, had betrayed her. And worse, she knew that he was a good man. A man who had believed in protecting the innocent and striking chains from the fettered. He would not have turned away from her out of ambition or petty jealousy.

And so the question had continued to work on her mind: why had he turned...and might he have been right?

“Evelyn?”

Her name smashed through Leveler’s thoughts like a fire rune through a pane of glass. It made her shiver to hear it aloud, but it was something she had resigned herself to getting used to. Half the Valley will know by now that the Leveler is really Evelyn, daughter of Iona.

Only the gods were nameless.

The Leveler turned her head from where she sat slumped on the parched grass, and saw the Hole blinking wetly back at her.

“What will my legacy be, Cara?” she asked her last remaining disciple.

Evelyn was able to see her question bring a painful fire into Cara’s heart, the brown-skinned woman shaking as she listened. The Hole’s wet face cringed.

“Legacy doesn’t matter, they are all forgotten in the end. But...no one else will do what you have done. Please get back up, without you the world won’t understand how to keep freedom. We need you to show us as you have before...You can win, you always did.”

She grasped onto the Leveler’s arms, falling painfully into her lap.

The Leveler fought the urge to flinch back from her follower’s distress, her frenzied scrabble for reassurance. She had found the Hole by turns an enigma, an annoyance, a useful tool and even, sometimes, a reassuring voice. Now, in the midst of her panic, Hole’s desperate faith in her felt somehow pitiable, even repulsive.

My last true ally, she thought savagely. A fucking lunatic.

Cara’s lips muttered noises of entangled confusion. “You are the symbol everyone must see, or they’ll forget!”

She almost wanted to accept the comforting lie. It can’t end this way. she wanted to rail. I am the Leveler. I’m the one who builds the new order!

No longer, said a small voice at the back of her head. If she didn’t accept the truth, she was as deluded as her mind-broken disciple.

“See me.” she repeated, hissing the words bitterly. “To what end, Cara? They know my name. They might not know yours, but even you can’t defend me forever. Sooner or later, and probably sooner...someone will attack us.” She pulled her hand away from Cara’s scrabbling grasp and cupped her belly again. “And they’ll take the Moonstone.”

“The sky,” the Hole said, “You rule a land but when did you search the sky for power?"

The Leveler scowled. “What are you talking about?”

Lifting herself from Leveler, Cara’s shaking body gradually stilled. For a moment the lingering stare had a touch of the otherworldly; staring into her leader's eyes and simultaneously somewhere else. Within the shroud of Cara's clouded thinking was the visceral fear, the phantom dwelling in the great distance of space.

"The Moonstone is only a tool," Shaking her head slowly, the light of faith opened the mixed woman's face. "Above us something more than the Moonstone exists. Why do we not go into the sky where no one else can follow and gain the power they could never have? When you have the sky's power, you will be yourself again, and better."

“Go into the sky?” The Leveler looked up, towards the burning blue sky, and exhaled down her nose. “We might as well wish for the Brothers to spin backwards around the earth, Cara.”

She had used the Moonstone to shift her form into that of a bird, once, but she had lacked the creature’s instinct for flight. That embarrassment, and the pain of keeping a form other than her own for any length of time, had dissuaded her from trying again. The sky belonged to the birds, and to the lonely satellites where the gods had once lived.

And yet, there had to be some truth to her disciple’s ramblings. Her own unique runes had fallen from the stars, after all.

Yes. And snuffed the candle of her mind the moment she touched them.

But had the same not been true of the Moonstone, when a lesser man had touched it? The sudden thought gave the Leveler pause.

There was an abrupt cold, Hole's fingers releasing hold of her mistress. The act of separation made the star-struck woman eye Leveler with pain.

"I've been in the sky many times." She pressed a finger to her temple. "If I fly and gift you that far away power...You are what the world has never seen before, you should have what the world has never been given. Let me serve you again." Her most prized killer lowered herself to grovel at the weakened woman's feet. "Please."

Part of the Leveler wanted to dismiss it as the latest ravings of a mad woman. Another part of her desperately wanted it to be true. She clenched her left fist, feeling her nails dig into her palm. It can’t end here. It can’t!

“The Great Hole.” she murmured. “I’ve heard you speak of it before, Cara. That people don’t matter there...that names don’t matter there.”

She lunged forward with her blackened hand, seizing the aquamarine necklace that hung around her disciple’s neck and jerking the two of them face to face.

“Tell me the truth.” she threatened. “Can this power help me win, even now? Can it kill them all?”

“The Great Hole has power beyond the Moonstone.” Cara answered grimly, swallowing down her fears in the close space between her and the mistress. Within this distance, the Hole saw much more potential in the Leveler. Each twist of her face was an idea seeking a rebirth to greater heights across the world. The Leveler’s urgency was freedom, renewing itself for another wave across the globe. “Your thoughts are beautiful, lead me again.”

Lead. The Leveler slackened her grip, just slightly. If there was even a chance that the Hole was right...people always flocked to the strongest leader, and the Leveler already knew how to make herself one of the common people. A grievance she could harness; a division she could exploit. Ash or Light or Rise, she could lead again.

“They said the Moonstone was a myth.” she mused. “Why not prove them wrong a second time?”

Anything would be better than this ignominious end.

She seized Cara’s hands. “Show me this power. Take us to the Great Hole!”

In a knowing yet youthful way Cara looked up.

"We have to follow where my runes descended from. Beyond the blue is black, and the black goes on far longer than the land of our world."

Better than wandering the Beyond. “As long as it takes.” the Leveler stated. “Let the Immortal’s bastards think that they’re safe.”

Smiling with rapturous praise of her mistress, the Hole raised herself to her feet, pulling on the other woman's hands to bring her up.

The world flashed white, and then dark, and then white again - a great white disc that surrounded Cara like a halo.

The soft ringing of the spell in Leveler’s ears was instantly deadened, as if someone had clapped a pillow over her head. The strange feeling of suffocation was amplified as her breath left her of its own accord, sucked from her chest in a long sigh. She tried to draw another and it was as if her diaphragm had frozen, her lungs turned to heavy black sludge.

The rigning returned, heavy now with the thump of her heartbeat as she began to panic. When she blinked she saw Cara drifting before her, still clutching her hands, and behind her...behind her…

Traitor!

Leveler’s mouth formed the word, but the only thing that came from it was a cold, fizzing sensation on her tongue. She let go of Cara’s hands and the other woman began to twirl slowly away from her, crystallizing eyes holding dearly to the Leveler as the two of them drifted apart..

There was heat on her back, intense heat that was beginning to prickle into pain on the nape of her neck. There was pain in her stomach too; in her elbows; in her fingers as she thrashed helplessly amid a sea of nothing.

There was only black - and Cara, spinning almost lazily away from her across the face of the white disc. And as her burning eyes resolved, the Leveler saw the white transform. The disc became a marble, swirled with pale bands that cloaked expanses of blue and smaller islands of irregular green and yellow.

Darkness came suddenly, like a gust of wind snuffing a candle. But the Leveler’s final thought was of those pale bands as oblivion rushed up to take her. Why, she thought, they almost look like clouds.

Azazeal849
11-27-2019, 08:52 PM
The autumn rains had come to wash away the dusty summer, and winter had followed with cool winds from the sea and cloudy days that cloaked the sun in grey.

Illusion had heard nothing from the Wraith since their parting - nor of the Leveler. The Leveler’s freedmen armies had withdrawn to their homes, leaving turmoil in the city of Light. A new council of mages ruled there now, or so Illusion had heard - the Blue Lady having chosen to share her runes with a dozen faithful rather than face annihilation by the first mage who tried to steal them from her. The Ashmen had fared little better; they had lost their leader and their Moonstone. The Apprentice and the Grey Sisters had worked endlessly to pacify the city and dismantle the last of the old slaver order, and in that at least they had succeeded. The Ashmen were tired of war.

Illusion didn’t blame Wanderer for wanting to get away from it all.

The Risemen, as always, kept to themselves, and Illusion had seen nothing of the Mer since she and Wanderer had returned to the sea to give back the Book and the body of the Ambassador. Illusion exhaled quietly as she remembered their first meeting, and the name that Wanderer had given them. Simply to avoid revealing her own, Illusion had thought at the time, though now she understood that that name had been even more valuable; the most valuable thing in the world.

Illusion carried the name with her up the garden path. The small croft ahead was perfectly placed against the painting of grey clouds. The cliffs stood nearby. It sat completely alone, save for a small garden and a few farm animals that littered the nearby greenery. The loneliness of the croft was exactly what Aggie wanted. It was difficult to sneak up when there was so little to hide behind. Even with the ticking months of continued safety, it was a constant presence in the back of her skull. The house looked rather plain. It had coarse stone walls and wooden planks hid the windows from view. The house almost looked abandoned excluding the small flower garden that was very well tended. It sat only a few meters from the entrance of the croft and was surrounded by flat stones. The flowers were cheerfully bright and took strangely out of place. But...whoever sat on the wooden bench near the flower garden, clearly adored the flowers and their colours.

“Cian, son of Agrona.” Illusion said quietly, and placed the flat stone with the name etched upon it down amid the flowers. She turned to Wanderer. “What do you think?”

The older woman rested herself on her knees beside Illusion. A thin hand patted the young woman’s arm and a small smile drifted onto her lips.

“I think it’s perfect.” she replied softly, she tried to pretend that tears were not collecting in her dull green eyes. “It’s perfect.”

The words stained her lips as she let herself take in the garden. Stones littered the garden. Names were crudely written on large flat stones. People they had lost during their travels. Their bodies may have faded from this word but their name would remain. No, not their real name. The name she knew them by, the names that made them the heroes they became.


THE END (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HLUX0y4EptA)

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