Battle at sea
Esgares fleet were countless
And as the demonic dragon summoned by shylock wreaked havoc the great green ocean quickly turned crimson from blood and gunfire. Cannons balls rang across the waters and whistles of spells and blades were heard all over.
At that point Helena lost signs of Zevlad. She cried for him, fearing that the assassin has gone to face Cronus. While looking around, she felt huge force tossing her aside. She looked up only to notice a huge man, who didn't even bother with her. He had another person in mind.
"Remember me! Handsome prince!!".
It was Devon, the man who wanted the throne of Norgard. The man who was working for the Ice queen. The man who set bombs all over the kingdom and killed and wounded so many.
Was he now working for Emonalach?
Obviously Arjak charged at him, caring little to know about Devon as revenge made his weapon sing.
Fire and fury churned in the blood of the Norgard King, his eyes wild and savage as the slavering wolves that stalked the deep and dark forests of him homeland. Devon's presence alone filled Arjak with hatred, veins pounding with every beat of his heart. Vanskmunr glowed brightly as the heard of the earth, filling the room with a glorious and radiant light. Roaring like a wild animal, the High King made his charge at his nemesis. Fueled by hatred and vengeance, the gap between the two of them closed rapidly.
Devon' channeling the dragon that he had absorbed into his mortal shell, spewed gouts of white-hot flame from his hands and mouth. The fire was untamed and crazed, spreading out before the deranged and demonic huntsman with wild abandon. The stone and metal touched by the unnatural fire glowed cherry-hot. Arjak could feel it through the soles of his boots and the layers of his clothes. It was as if the High King had just leapt into the gaping maw of hell itself. Gritting his teeth, Arjak endured the flame, discarding his immolated cloak and surcoat to the inferno. Escaping the ravenous tongues of fire, Arjak dashed at his aggressor, swinging Vanskmunr at Devon's torso, the blade singing with the chorus of furious angels slavering for redemption. The blade, once black, now glowed as brightly as the huntsman's fire. The tip of the ancient blade narrowly missed Devon as he stepped aside, the blade still sundering cloth and singing flesh.
Reeling back from the High King's sword sweep, Devon mustered more of the terrible power within him and unleashed another cone of flame. Arjak, with no room to maneuver, raised Vanskmunr's edge as if to block an incoming strike from an opposing swordsman. The enchanted blade stood stalwart, splitting the column of flame down the middle. Still, the heat was unbearable. Arjak could feel the skin on his knuckles and arms burning and smell the hairs of his beard melting.
"I'm going to enjoy... killing you!" Arjak shouted through gritted teeth, sounding near inhuman with this growl. Arjak's eyes were almost entirely shut to protect them from the heat, but Devon could not maintain the burst of fire forever. Finally, the fire subsided, leaving Arjak singed in several places, his pale skin several shades redder than would be considered healthy. In some places, like on his hands, forearms, and shoulders, blisters appeared, some of them even burst, oozing a mixture of blood and pus. The pain fueled the High King's rage, clenching his teeth, he reeled his sword back with one hand, the other gripping Devon firmly by the throat. Vanskmunr's crossguard connected with the huntsmen's head three times.
"You are going to leave this world slow and in pain, you maggot..." Arjak muttered, squeezing down on the gaunt man's throat.
================================
Ciara had rushed to the red haired womans side, taking a knee beside her to comfort her when the one known as Devon had appeared. Ciara's eyes flashed, the reflection of fire burning deep within them.
Her hands stretched out to Helena, offering to help her up but as the two women began to stand, she heard her husband’s voice booming over the din of the destruction happening around them.
"I'm going to enjoy... killing you!"
Ciara squeezed Helena's hands and then turned to face the direction the sounds had come from. As she moved away, a golden aura began to glow around her. Once olive eyes now burned the color of fire as she approached the two men. There was no fear surging through the raven haired queen, there were only the words of Tik'va that would be heard in her head.
She was the oracle of fire. She was the bearer of hope. Ciara would not see the world she loved so much fall under the hand of evil. She would not see her husband become a murderer. The smell of blood and singed skin wafted up, almost gagging her but she continued moving forward, unblinking, unafraid as the golden aura moved out and was propelled forward until it surrounded not only her, but her husband as well as the huntsmen body began to crumple under the crushing blows.
"Arjak" Ciara's voice had once again changed, hauntingly beautiful as she spoke and the dancing around around them glowed softly with the embers of the love and passion she had for her husband. She took his hands into hers, both of them safe inside of that glowing bubble for the briefest of moments as she would try to sway her husband from killing the crazed Huntsmen "This is not who we are. We are druid, you are king, and I your queen. " Blazing eyes locked onto the crazed eyes of her mates. "Husband, we are not barbarians. It does not serve us nor does it serve our people to become as him."
Ever constant, the voice of reason, the voice of that his wife, the oracle of fire would reach the kings ears, her pleas not going unnoticed as her dainty hand reached up and touched the side of his face with gentleness, love, and hope.
It was then that a powerful magic took place, and out of the blue two figures appeared.
"Issac?", Helena asked surprised. She didn't know who the other man that followed him was, but decided not to press the questions right now.
"Now Issac, lock us both into the portal!"
"Yes Sir Oaken"
Something caught both Devon and the new character known as Oaken within a portal of some sort, sealing them inside a red glowing wave of energy, spiral shaped.
Devon, already eager from the mad battle he just had with the king of Norgard, seemed to be very upset and angry being trapped inside the energy circle.
"Don't worry… We shall soon fight again…", said Oaken
"Again!", cried Devon, "You must be mistaken fool, as a hunter I have clear vision of all the people I ever marked to kill… unless you are one of these lowlife that so happened to cross my path", Devon licked his lips, "But I will fight you all right".
"Eager already?", said Oaken, "I am too…".
"Wait…", Devon's eyes shot wide open, "I know you…".
Oaken grinned, "ISSAC NOW!".
"IT'S YOU!!! IT'S YOU!!! SANDOR-!"
The cries of Devon were not heard, but he seemed to be uttering a name…
Issac hands were lifted to the air, the energy he mastered sending both Devon and Oaken into another realm…
To finish their last fight.
================================
The elemental warriors were fighting as best as they could, their powers progressing at the sight of the Nephilim, those horrible creatures without form, and yet as much as a great havoc was happening so close to the harbor, there was much tumult in the kingdom of Sigard as well.
A flash of light was passing into the main city. Green light it was, which made it somewhat symbolic, both because of its poisonous origin and for the fact the color was closely associated with the idea of “Greed”, the symbol of Sigard.
Indeed the apple does not fall far from the tree…. That is, if No.Vii, the child of an unknown origin, was truly the son of a known trader…
Anyway, the light halted once it reached the gates, a human visage was appearing among the destruction.
“You smell… somewhat familiar….”, No.Vii grinned.
The artful display of Truth brutality was very charming. Magical and boundless… as any beautiful chaos should be…
Truth, was starting to sense the newcomer, briefly gazing, suspecting…
“You feel…. familiar too…”, No.Vii said again, “I sensed you… I knew it was your I was fighting before... I was hoping we could fight again...”.
Truth, a whirlpool of disasters has decided to turn for the new foe.
No.Vii was happy. He has beaten the “Lie”, but it was such a pleasure for him to know if he could have overcome the “Truth”.
================================
Before the battle begins
Zelvad sighed deeply as he left Helena, her bed, and her quarters. Slowly striding off, his pace started slow, speeding up as he got further away. He was at a slight sprint before he began scaling a nearby building, stopping once he reached the roof to where he stashed the parcels he had acquired the day before. As he made the trek, he felt himself enter a tunnel vision as the moved, slowly blocking out every unnecessary detail around him
Opening them up, he got a good look at what was left for him. It was a new set of armor, seeming to be a hybrid of cloth and leathers all colored black, but there was something… special about it. They didn’t feel normal, and upon further inspection, he found out why. Several symbols could been seen as the sunlight passed over the spine of the clothing and it seem to cover the entire set. Along with the clothes there was a note inside:
Livata told me everything. While I didn't want you to live in a conflict like ours, I understand your place in this one.
These belonged to a very dear friend, they should help you with your battles to come.
Your father and I will expect you home once you’re done.
...Mother? You too!?
Zelvad sighed as he looked over the clothing… and slowly began to put everything on. Zelvad then turned his attention to the second parcel and opened it up to reveal a sheathed sword only a few inches shorter than his own. Inside the package like the first one was another note:
Consider this a final graduation present.
May your Widow guide you home.
-L
Zelvad unsheathed the blade halfway, the ring of the steel being made very familiar to him. It was the same sound he heard in Norgard… this was Livata's sword. Slowly he sheathed the blade and secured it on his person so that both of his swords made an 'X' across his back.
Once prepared, he surveyed the city. He knew Shylock wasn't going to put all his eggs in one basket, so that meant Cronus wouldn't be on any of the ships.
The assassin then turned his head to face the city, his eyes scanning the neighboring rooftops until a figure scaling a nearby building in the distance caught his eye. Odd enough that someone would be up there with him, until Zelvad met the man’s face. Cronus….
The veteran killer had a slight airy chuckle with a look of disdain. He dropped down and Zelvad chased after him, the both of them tearing through the shaded Sigardian streets before they finally stopped at a clearing. It looked like an old abandoned part of the markets with stands and spoiled foods thrown to the ground and left to rot, forgotten by the world around it. There’s was even a large hole in one of the walls that looked like a large enough person was shoved through at a very impressive speed.
Zelvad drew both of his swords as he jumped down, steel clashing with Cronus’s own blade. This caused Zelvad to jump back a little taking a short defensive stance, his eyes brightly burning a furious mixture of green and red through the shade his cowl provided. He then pressed on again. He was relentless in his assault as sparks flew from the clashing metal, making sure to leave no room for retaliation, but nothing was getting through.
Cronus’s mettle certainly spoke through his skills, as he was warding of a dual bladed assault with his one sword, not even bothering to bring out his dagger. What was even more astounding was that in in his defenses, he was mounting his own assault as their bodies twisted and curled like vertical serpents, sliding through the edges and points looking to find and remove chunks of flesh, though they could make small cuts and slices.
After what felt like an eternity, they found their weapons locked against each other as they pushed against the opposing force of the other. Cronus took this opportunity to press his words. “You know you’ll die here, whelp. You’re not going to save anyone with this sloppy swordsmanship. Not your master, not your friends….”
“Shut up...”
“Especially those whores you travel around with, you think the paladin would look good mentally and emotionally broken at my knees?”
“I said...ergh….SHUT THE FUCK UP!!!” Zelvad shoved forward, and hopped backwards. While doing so, he dipped into his power to loose his dagger and hurl it at his opponent who had said quite enough. A smirk flashed across Zelvad’s hidden face as the blade made a very fine slice across Cronus’s cheek, leaving himself wide open, both of his eyes now a brilliant ruby red. His voice was now gritty and distorted.
Rage flashed in Cronus’s eyes as he wiped his cheek with his thumb as the the crimson slowly began to seep from his face. “Fine, you want to play? Then let’s play.” Cronus drew his dagger and much like this whelp in front of him, flung it with an ease and an aim better than anything Zelvad could have done, aiming straight for where the throat was located to only have it be deflected in the flash of a spark, Zelvad’s dagger whizzing past and embedding itself in the stone nearby.
Not moving his body, Cronus scanned the immediate area then raised a hand in the air. “You can beat one...big deal. How about a hundred?” Soon archers came from the surrounding roofs with longbows and crossbows drawn and ready. Cronus took two quick hops back and threw his hand down. “Now!”
The arrows came down like a monsoon. Though try as he might to survive, Zelvad took a very generous amount of the storm. The heads pierced through his arms, legs, back, chest, and neck...until he fell limp to the ground. Once the volley cleared and his body laid littered in arrows, Cronus kicked the corpse a couple of times to make sure he still wasn’t breathing, then scoffed as he began to walk away.
Then something truly disturbing occurred...the corpse began to move and rise to it’s knees with a chuckle, which escalated to a laugh, which soon evolved into a full blown cackle that grew in such an intensity that it seeped into the bones of the archers and creeped under the skin of the trader’s killer. Cronus turned to witness this with his own eyes and quickly drew his blade, rushing forward to take this abomination’s head...but his blade was stopped when the body bent and twisted against his blade as Cronus continued hacking away at the lifeless shape. The arrows melded into its skin. The cadaver’s clothing melded into a black and red mess until a form rose out of the ooze.
Its feminine curves apparent and reforming from Cronus’s continued assault as were its ruby red eyes shining even brighter than before. The arrows that didn’t make contact with the body began to swirl in jagged circles around this mass, then they pointed out wards, and returned to their senders. The archers screamed as they arrows ran through them at speeds that were inhuman, small traces of the form on the arrows now swirled into the archers, slowly taking over their bodies, their pain was maddening and debilitating as some fell from the heights of the roofs to their untimely ends as bones cracked and insides ruptured from further penetration of the arrows upon contact with the ground.
This sight struck Cronus into a state of bewilderment and confusion until he felt the cold steel drag across his throat along the warmth of a body behind him. The sight of the lava-like woman vanished as did the sight of the dead guards who stood in very good health on their perches, with arrows still knocked and ready “I told you this in the desert and it bears repeating, it’s bad for the balance if the spiders start killing each other over the flies in this world. Thankfully, you are no such thing...so you fell into my web quite easily.”
Cronus could only manage to choke out a couple words through his blood coughs.“An illusion? But how…”
“I’ve had two months time prior to this trip to learn everything I can about this power...the very same power you took for granted.” Zelvad explained whilst slowly laying the dying assassin down. Before he spoke again, Zelvad laid a hand over Cronus’s face, his index and middle finger making a ‘V’ over the center of his head.
He then removed his cowl and face mask so that this would be unmistakable. “In spite of all you’ve done...may the Widow grant you peace.” Cronus screamed out in protest before the dagger found its mark again. The dagger buried itself deep within the man’s skull, his body rigid for an instant...then limp. Zelvad gave a shuddering sigh as the ground trembled beneath him and the sound of an unearthly roar rose to meet his ears. His thoughts soon returned to the battle on the sea. “Helena!” Zelvad soon took off into the streets working to find his way back to the harbor….
================================
Helena slowly got up, using her spear to support herself. “Issac… Is that you?! Where have you been?”.
There were so many questions she wanted to ask the lad, but just before she reached him, a powerful light beam crossed into her path.
Once again, she found herself crouching at the ground, her massive red hair covering everything from her sight. When she raised her arm to remove it, she noticed a familiar…. face….
Arjak’s cry was heard loud and clear and Ciara was already chanting something under her breath. The fiend, Emonalach, cared little for that. With a wave of his fingers they were both sent flying, landing some inches away, badly wounded.
Issac was next. He seemed to be trying to summon some magical powers…
Helena was surprised…
When did the boy became so skilled in the art of spells?
“Tell him to stop”, Emonalach said coldly, looking directly into Helena’s eyes.
“For what reason?”, she bite her lips, slowly getting up, making sure her pose was as confident as possible.
“You are not powerful enough to stop me now…”, Emonalach said looking nonchalant.
Issac’s aura increased.
“He will be hurt and I promise, this time I won’t hold back…”.
Helena swallowed, surely, being so shamed by the attack of Sigard was enough to even draw the greatest tactician to go for one powerful strike.
“Halt!”, she carefully placed her arms over Issac’s shoulders, using her inner powers to slowly decrease the energies he had just summoned.
“Why would you appear before us, demon”, she asked with a low voice.
“I have an offer….”
Helena realized at this point that the only reason she was standing alive now was because Emonalach was in need of something…
“I am all ears”, she whispered.
Emonalach reached his right hand forward, “Follow me then…”.
Helena looked at him, surprised. She tightened her grip over Issac, “You wish for me… to…”
“Join me, Paladin…”
Helena remained in her place. She shivered so badly and for some reason she found herself unable to speak or move.
“Paladin. I have an offer and I will need you to accompany me for another location. Do so, and… at least for the time being… I will spare your companions… And even abandon this attack… for the moment…”.
“What… What do you need of me?”, she swallowed.
Emonalach’s hand was still reaching out for her.
She found herself staring at his open palm and little by little she started to advance for his direction.
“Are you sure?”, it was now Issac’s turn to hold her hands. A second thought, a second option, a second option… If it were only Zelvad’s hands… maybe she would have… stayed…
“Yes.. I am sure…. Take care of Ciara and Arjak… Tell them to head for Norgard. They need to care for the kingdom…”
“So, I shall m’lady”.
And reaching for Emonalach’s hands, Helena found herself now heading for another location, leaving behind everyone, probably to never see them again.
(CO between Repent/Mysti/Storm/Kris)
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