Fable - Ask A Belief Forgotten[Dreadlords]

[Elise Virak]

Vel Stratholm - Arethwin Cathedral

Elise stared quietly up at a statue depicting a large man clutching an orb in his right hand. Behind him lay a massive stained glass window that colored him with the rays of the dusk even as the sun sat in it's noon position.

Nowadays most Anirians would claim that the statue was of a Dreadlord. A man clutching the sun and illuminated from light above? That could only be one of the mages of Vel Anir. They would have been wrong of course, but Elise would not have blamed them for that. Commoners and peasants were often ignorant of the past.

Too busy plowing fields to read books, or perhaps simply too stupid.

The Statue was a depiction of something beyond man; The God Anirius.

Before Vel Anir had cast off it's yoke of superstition they too had been trapped in the worship of beings that did not exist. Anirius had been at the center of that pantheon. The God of the Sun, of light and the grace of dawn and dusk. There had been an entire priesthood devoted to him, warrior Knights that had existed before the Fortress City had come into being.

That religious fervor had been abandoned long ago, cast aside more than a thousand years hence, at least in most places.

Pieces of Vel Stratholm still clung to the old ways, desperately seeking some connection to Gods that had abandoned them more than two millenia ago. It was a contagion that seemed to be spreading forth from the city, a pestilence that bubbled over and threatened to spill into further Anirian lands. There were even rumors that the Knights of Anirius had returned.

It was something that Vel Anir could not allow to survive, and thus she found herself here.

A dozen Dreadlords stood behind her among the pews of this ancient building, every House represented, every one of them with their own little agenda. Her directive had come from not just her Father, but the Ruling Council of Vel Anir itself. Some agreed with what had to be done, others did not.

Elise did not care either way. She had been given her task, and she would carry it out. Break the back of this cult, even if Vel Stratholm had to burn. "Tear it down."

The Baroness said as she turned away from the statue.

 

[Florinthe Othal]

For once, she was aligned with House Virak. Rarer still, her oath sworn house had chosen to take a side against a community within Vel'Anir. For a family fighting for the common good and benefit of all people, it seemed counter-intuitive to be oppressing culture and religion. Then again, such ideologies might pose a threat to the goodwill and inroads Luana had built amongst the Anirians. This mission had been planned, plotted and executed to precision, there were important figures at play here and Florinthe knew she had no choice but to do her part.

Rumours, whispers, propaganda, literature. In the space of weeks these had all been drummed up and twisted. The cult of Anirius was a vitriolic institution that sought nothing but the destruction of Vel'Anirian life, the usual. She had no problem, of course, in fact, she was eager to let off steam. Whenever an 'us versus them' mentality was in play, usually in times of war, the political schemes and subterfuge were at their lowest.

The second Elise gave the order, Florinthe pounced. A carefully prepared javelin rose into her hand and time seemed to slow for her. Surrounding winds, summoned from the wings of the lofty cathedral, flocked to meet her and she swiftly condensed, compressed and warped these streams around her weapon like a raging vortex. When satisfied, the young Dreadlord gently flicked her wrist and the javelin was off.

It struck the head of the statue a split second later. Immediately the javelin disintegrated - shorn apart by the intense, condensed, winds that were contained around it. The energy transferred, the wind meeting the head of the statue and, that too, disintegrated. A quick snap of her fingers followed and the powerful torrent of air dissipated, flooding the cathedral with a gentle, refreshing breeze. She smiled to herself, it was a mere display of power and speed before her peers, but equally and unbeknownst to those watching, it ranked among one of the weaker javelins she could muster.

With herself thoroughly vented, she turned away and sat on a nearby pew. Content to watch the carnage unfold around her.

 

[Ania]

House Weiroon had stronger, more reliable, and more widely recognized dreadlords than Ania. It was a known fact and one that didn’t seem to bother the pale woman. Despite this, the nobles of Weiroon dispatched her quite often on high profile missions or jobs which were deemed important for “appearance’s sake.”

And the reason was a simple one, known to every window washer and maid within Weiroon’s manor. Loyalty.

Whereas many other dreadlords craved riches, success, or were driven by ambition to achieve some great name for themselves the thin dark haired dreadlord named Ania seemed solely motivated to the needs of the Great House. Much like the cultists who worshipped Anirius she held an unshakeable devotion for her pledged house. In many ways that was far more valuable than raw strength or reliability.

All Weiroon had to do was point their finger. Elise Virak was running this operation and Ania was to follow all orders given. As per usual, the loyal dreadlord needed no further information, she asked no questions.

A javelin of wind energy soared through the air, colliding with the ancient religious symbol and shattering it. Fragments of stone sprinkled the ground and bounced near the feet of the gathered servants of Vel Anir. A gasp emerged from a pile of crates as an elderly priest of this despicable cult raised his head.

He climbed out of his hiding spot, ragged robes and scraggly gray beard in tow. His walk was deliberate and his footsteps echoed off the walls of the empty holy site.

“Blasphemy!” he shouted suddenly finding courage in the wake of his ruined god. He brandished a ceremonial knife ornately decorated in gemstones.

Ania stepped forward, eyes aglow and meeting the fervent man’s face with a glare. He stopped almost immediately and fell to his knees, staring up at where Anirius’ face had once been. The dreadlord was projecting a hallucination of Anirius and allowing the cultist to come face-to-face with his divine.

“Join me my child,” the illusion of Anirius suggested with a nod towards the sacrificial knife. In an instant the traitor of all that Vel Anir stood for placed his blade to his throat and in a quick motion slashed straight through it.

He gurgled and bled on the floor as Ania kicked over one of the pews for good measure.

 

[Harry]

Hal made sure to put several Dreadlords between himself and the young Lady Virak. He found himself accompanying Elise in place of Selene far more frequently. He was vaguely aware of the increasingly volatile situation within the city and, despite understanding that the Dreadlords gathered would most likely attempt something or another, was rather calm.

After spending an ample amount of time staring at the idol, Elise finally gave the order to bring it down. Admiring the architecture, perhaps? Taking in the statue's divine glory for the last time?

Not a chance. Not from that woman.

He watched as Florinthe, a Dreadlord of the Third rank that he immediately recognized, delivered the first blow. Others followed suit, taking some joy in felling the stone figure. Hal just watched on. His magic wasn't suited for breaking apart stone.

At that moment, a priest exposed himself, claiming blasphemy. The Apprentice watched on as, in an ostensible fit of madness, the priest cut his own neck open and drowned in his own blood.

Hal grimaced not at the sight of the writhing body, but more so at the pitiful noises that came from the dying priest.

He was sent as a bodyguard for Elise, and despite his best attempts to maintain distance to her, Hal remained vigilant of any potential threats to her life.

Though, truthfully, he'd rather shovel shit from a pigpen than suffer Elise's lambasting.

 

[Elise Virak]

The Dreadlords did as they were told, and soon the statue went crumbling down.

Her head tilted slightly as someone called out to her, the word 'blasphemy' falling from the strangers lips before he could be stopped. The Baroness didn't even have time to order his death before he suddenly stabbed himself through the skull with a knife.

An eyebrow slowly rose, and Elise made a note to herself to figure out which one of her current Cabal had managed that little feat. "Open the doors."

She ordered with a wave of her hand as two Dreadlords pushed open the Cathedrals massive double gate.

Sunlight quickly burned into the room, illuminating the destroyed statue and opening a view of Vel Stratholm. Outside the Cathedral stood a massive crowd of commoners. Some watched in fear, some in anticipation, others simply watched.

Elise stepped forward outside of the Cathedral, motioning for the Dreadlords to follow her.

Soldiers stood just before the Crowd, forming a semi-circle and keeping the ravenous peasants at bay. For a second Elise watched the crowd, then she opened her mouth to speak. "Good people of Vel Stratholm!"

Her voice boomed out, resounding far louder than it should have as specks of black floated across the white of her eyes.

"I come to you with an offer!" Silence slowly flowed over the crowd. "Cast out these degenerates. Throw them from your homes, toss them into the streets, allow them no purchase within your city, and I promise no hardship will come to you!"

Slowly Elise panned her golden eyes over the crowd, watching, daring. "This I promise, as Heir of House Vir-"

The Baroness did not get to finish her sentence as suddenly three black crossbow bolts threw directly towards her.

 

[Florinthe Othal]

Her eyes widened and Florinthe found herself surprised at the gory scene before her. While she'd seen and committed far worse atrocities there was something particularly unsettling about a man slitting his own throat. Breathing deeply, she grounded herself and let a sense of calm wash over her. The cultist had served no threat, but Florinthe did not want to offend one of the more notorious torturers of their ranks. "Thanks for the help." She spoke calmly and nodded softly towards Ania.

Mainly to clear some distance between herself and Ania, Florinthe wandered around the chaotic scene that was the cathedral. Her attention soon shifted away from the carnage and destruction, back towards the striking figure of Elise Virak. Scary, intimidating and dangerous, yes, but there was something exciting and electric about her presence. Her speech too seemed to compel you to listen and obey, Florinthe despised her.

With her orders barked, her loyal dogs followed and the doors were quickly flung open. Fresh daylight engulfed the church and Florinthe marvelled at the sight. In the clear light of day, it presented an even more beautiful sight, filled with stunning architecture, murals and stained glass. A shame to see it destroyed, but for the sake of peace, it was a necessity.

Slowly, having quickly grown tired of the sights, Florinthe made her way towards the entrance, intrigued to see the collection of civilians that had gathered to witness the destruction of their holy site. Immediately, she saw figures moving through the crowd. Shoving, pushing and elbowing their way to the front as Elise continued to give her grand, and ultimately futile, offer towards the unimpressed audience.

Inhaling deeply, Florinthe palmed a knife away from the crowd. Carefully, and without drawing attention, she siphoned wind from her immediate vicinity. The gentle breezes she collected were forcibly warped and wrapped around the vicious edge of her blade and set it spinning tirelessly aloft behind her hand - out of sight from the crowd.

The crossbow bolts flew shortly after, but Florinthe was prepared. As they whistled towards Elise, she flicked out the spinning knife on a course with the three bolts. Immediately, upon collision with the first bolt, a small vortex of air exploded out from the blade and quickly consumed the three bolts in a vicious cyclone. The trajectory shifted, the bolts redirected, they flew callously into the crowd. Her intention had been to return them to their owners, however, Florinthe's magic was unrefined and lacking experience. Instead the bolts impaled three unfortunate civilians. Worse still, Florinthe realised, she had saved Elise Virak.

 

[Ania]

An attempt on Lady Virak’s life had been made. Had she been a lady of Weiroon there would be no stopping Ania’s rage. She would’ve butchered a quarter of the population on the spot, preferably in as painful of a manner as possible. As Elise was not a noblewoman from her house she showed a bit more restraint.

One of the bystanders was hit squarely in the chest. She wasn’t moving, likely dead. The other two were screaming in pain, their injuries looked mild. Ania stepped forward and stared at the small group of citizens gathered nearest the injured ones.

“Look here,” she commanded and six of them stared into her eyes. She showed them that the civilians were fine. The arrows had been fake, there was no blood it was just a clever ruse.

The dreadlord rammed the sharp end of her saber through the necks of the two folks Florinthe had inadvertently injured. It wouldn’t do to have screaming commoners in the midst of the crowd. They’d incite a panic and Ania wouldn’t be able to deceive all of them.

Still, a few of the peasants had seen it all, they dispersed into the crowd. A few of them screaming warnings and rushing to get away. But it seemed her delusion had at least delayed the crowd from turning into a vicious mob if not outright prevented it.

Ania walked backwards, keeping her eyes glued to the masses and stood in front of Lady Elise. Blocking the lady from the crowd may only dissuade further assassination attempts but it was certainly better than nothing.

“Ma’am, these vermin have allowed proselytizers to infect their community. Now they make an attempt on your life. An example should be made,” she said while turning to face Elise Virak. “Let me crucify a few of them. Make an example to crush their spirit and let them know what awaits those who would defy the glory of Vel Anir.”

It was brutal and some of her fellow dreadlords may have called it an inhumane response. But it was effective. Carlisle, the steward of House Weiroon, once told her that it takes a steady hand to rule Vel Anir. Ania couldn’t help but agree.

 

[Gabriel Banick]

Gabriel had not been privy to the meeting the houses had quietly arranged. The demeanor his father returned in however had settled a silent curiosity however as he quietly gleaned what he could from the conversations the pair had. Careful questions, paired with equally phrased answers had set the Banick son's destination while the patriarch had been able to keep the faith of secrecy.

It was a debatable question of secrecy for Gabriel when House Virak entered the temple and proceeded to make a ruckus, or perhaps deliberate show, of the statue to the people that had gathered before the temple. Only to witness what the gathering of Dreadlords and the lady of Virak were up to when the statue was visibly laid waste behind them upon their exit.

His own detachment of guards stirred, and a quiet motion had him calming then as the lady spoke only to receive An attempt on her life. He pondered a moment of the brazen stupidity with which the old group of religious zealots had just condemned themselves with.

His armor rubbed briefly as he stood from his leaning position, hand on the hilt of his sword, smile adorning his face as he cleared his throat loudly.

"Witness, people of our great and beloved city, the attempt these men of the cloth make of trying to sow dissent and havoc upon you all!" Gabriel shouted from behind them, his men making clear a small area around their Lord.

"These self righteous men of an old, failing faith, attempting the life of a woman. What would they do to any one of you should you fail to adhere to their religion?" he called loudly, a path slowly clearing ahead of him. Someone moved toward him with dagger drawn, quickly stopped in their tracks as one of his own guards slid a blade into the man's heart.

"Come into your home and toss it for muttering a grievance? For merely speaking out of turn?" He continued, cutting a path through the crowd and pointing at random people to punctuate his words while he moved.

"Would they slay you in the streets for merely not believing, having shown what fear they have for a woman's words? Is this what you want to help? Is this what you want in your city? Is this what you wish to tithe to, to sacrifice your hard earned coin for?" He proclaimed, coming to the steps and turning back to the crowd.

"Or will you stand beside us and purge these fools that wish to destroy what you hold dear? These poison speaking men dressed as priests that whisper promises of salvation before aiming to kill?" He asked, not waiting for the murmurs to die down before continuing.

"Stand, and throw them out. Keep our city, your city, free of this ilk. Do not fall prey to their honeyed poison."

 

[Elise Virak]

Elise didn't even blink, the black specks floating across her eyes increasing in intensity before they suddenly disappeared as the crossbow bolts were deflected away from her.

They struck civilians in the crowd, wounding two and sending one to the floor as little more than a ragdoll. Her lips thinned in anger, eyes casting briefly towards the corpses before flickering towards one of the Dreadlords that stepped forward.

The woman pierced her saber through the wounded men, then quietly approached The Baroness with a backwards step.

Her ears perked slightly as the Dreadlord suggested an example, and Elise could practically feel her heart strings being plucked. For a brief moment she folded through her own memories, reading the woman and recognizing her garb as slashed with the colors of House Weiroon.

Not an ally per-say, but an enemy of your enemy was always your friend, or at least useful.

Her mouth was about to open to speak when another voice broke through the silence of the crowd. Her eyes immediately snapped up, catching a glimpse of a face she recognized instantly. Part of her upbringing had been learning her rivals, and there was no mistaking one of the scions of House Banick.

Instantly she felt a spike of rage set into her heart. The last thing she needed was one of the fools of another house poking their noses where it did not belong.

As Banick finished his words Elise's voice boomed out once more. "You have three hours to produce the men who attacked me, after which this city will suffer decimation."

Gasps rushed through the crowd as they heard the words, men and women looking at one another in complete shock. Decimation was an old Anirian Practice, a punishment whereby every tenth man was killed by the nine before him. It had faded from practice long ago, but these people chose to live by the old ways.

Elise was more than happy to indulge them.

"We go to speak with the Governor." Elise told the Dreadlords around her. "Make sure that idiot comes along and stays silent, even if you have to drag him."

The Baroness gestured towards Banick, then turned on her heel towards the direction of the Governors palace. It stood on the other side of the city, and she was sure the trek would be a interesting.

One way or another.

 

[Harry]

Several things happened in the span of a few moments. He'd raised a hand as the bolts flew towards Elise, though his intervention was unnecessary as another Dreadlord, Flor, came to her aid. The bolts rebounded into the mass of onlookers. The Apprentice, one of the few in the group, mentally prepared himself to unleash his magic on the mob.

As the Banick nobleman spoke amidst the crowd, Hal finally lowered his hand. It seemed that, at least for the moment, things wouldn't escalate. At least, he thought so until Elise announced the threat of decimation, a practice he was only familiar with through reading. As the Lady turned away, Hal fell into place near her and left the responsibility of gathering the Banick nobleman to ranked Dreadlords.

He was sure that Elise would proudly march through the city without a second thought, and that was a dangerous thing. Hal stayed close, gathered his magic, and prepared himself to protect the young noblewoman from any potential threats.

 

[Florinthe Othal]

Florinthe stood perplexed and dumbfounded. Outwardly her expression was the usual - slightly on edge, yet stoic. Inwardly, she was seething. The bitch Virak woman hadn't even acknowledged her or even glanced in her direction, despite Florinthe saving her life. Precisely why she cared for the opinion of a spoiled puppy she couldn't say, but, regardless, she was furious. A long inhalation followed. She remembered her master's advice, remaining unnoticed was always the best course of action. She calmed.

As her rage subsided, Florinthe found the courage to look at the damage she had inadvertently caused. One dead, a woman, thank the heavens the other two had only been skimmed by the returning fire. Her relief, however, was cut short as she watched Ania cut down the two innocents in cold blood. Glancing around at the slightly trance-like appearance of the people nearby, she understood. She didn't necessarily agree with the method, but Ania had acted effectively.

It had taken for the crowd to die down in fear for Florinthe to notice the Bannick boy at the back. She found herself almost relaxing at the sight of him, it was rare in recent months to be in the company of a non-Virak or Virak affiliated individual. In fact, she'd heard rumours of her own house and House Bannick intending to strengthen their relationship. She smiled.

Eagerly following the command of Elise Virak, she made her way towards Gabriel. The crowd parted to let her past and she sauntered towards the retinue. "I've been instructed by the most gracious and wise Baroness Elise Virak, to inform you that you will be accompanying her to the Governor's palace." She thought best to omit the idiot comment and simply smiled warmly towards him.

 

[Ademar Acero]

His own mentor was also a Dreadlord sworn to House Virak, and Zenrat Emeron made sure Ademar was included in this task that was under the command by none other than the Baroness of House Virak, and heir to its rule. Never had Ademar seen or been this close to Elise, and while he had his own thoughts of what she and other nobles, no matter their house, were like he was absolutely wrong in assuming Elise was a noble that stayed behind the safe walls of a castle and be given everything at the ring of a bell.

The city of Vel Stragholm was in a frenzy after the assassination attempt on Elise’s life, an attempt of successful would have all their necks at the guillotine.

They were still in the streets with the Cathedral behind them and the estate of the Governor was on the very end where they stood. A long walk with difficulty due to civilians going in different directions with panic in their hearts.

As the Baroness moved, so did they. Ademar made sure to be close to Elise, along with Hal, on this walk they would make towards the Governor’s. A two handed mace in his hands and a claymore on his back. He’d use his advantage build to clear an easy path for Baroness and her accompanied Dreadlords. As they walked, he noticed their steps were at a pace that was not convenient for them. With one free hand he’d make violent pushes and shoves of civilians with a force they’d be thrown a few, mere feet from where they previously stood. Some of them toppled with others whom they were pushed into.

 

[Ania]

A pout formed on Ania’s face for a brief second before she hid it away. A decimation would be exhilarating to witness but the pale woman would’ve preferred to carry out the executions herself. No matter.

Their orders had been clear. Concise even.

Whether it was laziness or insubordination Ania couldn’t be certain. But her fellow dreadlords were either incapable or unwilling to follow basic commands. Silence the hound from House Bannick, escort the entire entourage towards the governor, and rough up a few onlookers along the way.

No, wait, she had made that last part up.

As Florinthe informed Gabriel Bannick that he’d be accompanying the horde of dreadlords Ania found it appropriate to add, “and no more speeches, crowd’s riled up as it is. We must not delay our arrival to the governor’s.”

From there the dreadlord of Weiroon kept her focus on the ruffians from Bannick. There were other servants of Vel Anir capable of keeping Lady Virak safe but Ania didn’t anticipate the warrior of House Luana would enforce Elise’s gag order.

 

[Gabriel Banick]

Gabriel spoke in a hushed tone this time, making sure that the two dreadlords in front of him were only able to hear him. "She is quite gracious to request my company, and no less with two fair escorts. Let's be away before some dullard decides to start throwing cabbage."

He did not speak again, eyes looking about for something interesting to speak on before remembering he wasn't supposed to speak again. Instead, his men began to silently speak to him, nodding to corners were he may not have seen something. Hunter was especially close, his hand still holding the sheathed dagger that had killed a priest in the crowd.

His other Banick guards were kept close but in an open circle around their lord.

 

[Elise Virak]

Elise moved with all the reckless abandon of the Dragon waltzing among a herd of sheep.

It was clear that nothing and no one bothered her. Crowds were shoved aside, people whispered, but their words meant absolutely nothing to someone like her.

She paid absolutely no mind to the drivel of men and women that stood around her, instead choosing to focus on the Dreadlords that had accompanied her on this journey. She knew most of them, or at least, had read their dossiers.

Some were not yet ranked, while others were.

Elise didn't particularly care of the rank a Dreadlord held, only the potential they carried. Her gaze briefly fell upon Ademar, who was shoving people aside and ensuring that their path lay direct. Then her eyes flickered to Ania, the one that had plucked at her heartstrings with the suggestion of slaughter.

A smile briefly flickered on her features, and then her head turned slowly towards a boy she had seen among her rank before. "Henry."

She spoke the word as she beckoned the still Apprentice over to her side. It was the first time on this entire journey she had used any of their names.

As the procession proceeded towards the Governors palace something moved unseen.

Dozens of men and women shifted slowly within the darkness of sloped roof tops and angled alleyways. Each of them wore an odd segmented armor of black slashed with splotches of yellow. They hid themselves away, clutching weapons and waiting as Elise and the Dreadlords moved through the city.

 

[Florinthe Othal]

Florinthe had to fight her urge to groan. She'd been trying to keep away from her psychopathic comrade, but it seemed that Ania had had other ideas. It wasn't so much that Florinthe was scared of her, which she was undoubtedly, but her mere presence set Flor on edge. For a woman who strives to predict, plan and prepare for any eventuality, she couldn't help but find the unpredictability of her comrade's mind an issue.

In regards to the Bannick boy, she feigned a warm and pleasant smile at his comment but chose not to engage him conversationally - If only so as not to provoke Ania's ire. That said, she hadn't cared much for his flattery but was smart enough to know he was an important ally for herself and the House.

As the procession began to make its way through the crowd, Florinthe tried her best to slip into the front of the entourage. At least here she could try to minimise the damage to the crowd. Carefully, she extracted her lightest spear from her back holster and held it menacingly in front of her - occasionally nudging and pushing those who strayed too close.

It would be wrong to assume that Florinthe had any attachment or sentiment towards protecting the crowd. In fact, she'd be happy to clobber a few of them with the flat of her blade but she was acutely aware of her uniquely precarious position. Her house's reputation, one of commonality and humanity, would be under scrutiny and she would have to try her best to restrain from any heavy-handed antics where possible.

 

[Harry]

Hal promptly came to Elise. He’d be lying if he were to say that speaking to Elise didn’t make him anxious. The apprentice generally tried to avoid any interaction with the young Lady, though there was no excuse to ignore her when called upon. None whatsoever.

“My Lady.”

Hal’s eyes flicked to the rooftops, feigning vigilance to avoid making eye contact with her. He was afraid that his stoic demeanor would shatter under her gaze.

 

[Ania]

Whereas Florinthe presented the so-called nobleman from House Banick with a smile Ania scowled at his crude remark. She didn't engage in verbal conversation but she ensured her face let him know that he was most unwelcome. In theory, House Weiroon was not directly opposed to Luana, Banick, or any of the other four "ruling" houses. In practice, she absolutely despised them because they prevented the obviously greatest House in Vel Anir from ruling.

While no one at Weiroon would ever dare call House Virak an ally they at least understood what Weiroon did. That the established order did not have the discipline to rule over the people of Vel Anir. That the greatest city ever built was in stagnation because of the incompetence of people like the rulers of Banick. If House Weiroon ruled over the realm as it deserved this entire mission would be unnecessary. They would've purged this heresy from the face of Arethil at the first hint of its existence.

Ania swiftly positioned herself between the dog from House Banick and the leading group of dreadlords. She wanted to be within earshot of both parties. It was vital to be near Lord Banick in case he started flapping his gums and needed someone to remind him of his place. It was equally vital to be close enough to hear the next set of orders from Lady Virak.

 

[Gabriel Banick]

Gabriel kept to himself, wearing a horrendously out of place smile as the procession moved along. His men did not converse with anyone, mindful of their own duties and more readily sweeping people aside without force given their close proximity to the people in relations.

In his mind however, Gabriel was awash with planning. Thinking on how best to present this, event, to the people while keeping the Dreadlords and House Virak out of the proverbial dung heap with the blatant show of force.

House Banick was about commerce after all, and the people being upset disrupted trade. Disrupted trade meant everyone suffered down the knotted rope that made up the society that was Vel Anir. Public relations was something that even his father struggled with, and Gabriel's ability to sway the minds was something his family both loathed and lauded.

The smirk continued, planning any sort of confrontation of words before they reached their destination. Words were his favored battleground, and a fight could be won or lost before a sword had been drawn by a few well versed phrases. His hand was lazily on the hilt of his sword still as his own men kept vigil.

 

[Elise Virak]

"You are Selene's Apprentice, are you not?" Elise asked the question knowing full well the answer.

Her father had taught her that asking a question you did not already know the answer to was idiotic. One always had to know what was to come next, one always had to know every little detail that could possibly be brought forth.

Most thought of House Virak as a place of Brutes. They thought that just because her family held the most military strength that it was all they knew.

They were wrong, but it was good to be underestimated.

As they all walked through the streets the men that had hidden themselves away in that strange segmented armor began to creep forward. Some drew swords, some held crossbows, and still others clutched odd scrolls in their hands.

They moved, ready to strike as Elise and the Dreadlords turned a corner.

 

[Florinthe Othal]

As Florinthe lead the procession of Bannick guards through the streets, the wind shifted. Occasionally, with very little consistency or control, she picked up movements and ripples in the air around her. Something was wrong here, the ambient noise usually found in the background of a bustling city had quietened to a standstill - yet there was movement, and a lot of it, nearby. Almost as if people were hiding. Her instincts and guts cried out to her, a single message, something was lurking - danger.

She was torn, to declare a false attack was an embarrassment and brought great shame upon a Dreadlord. However, standing over your dead ward was worse. Carefully, and so as not to draw needless attention to herself, she whistled. 5 short notes of increasing pitch and duration followed, of which she amplified with her wind magic so as to be heard by all nearby. It was simple, yet any not familiar with Dreadlord signals would disregard it.

The message was simple, but there were few that were of higher severity. Enemies nearby, numbers unknown.

With that done, she braced herself, summoning more spears to float carefully at her side. She hadn't given much warning to her comrades, but she hoped it would be enough.

 

[Harry]

"Yes," he responded to Elise, "How can I... be of use?"

Hal flinched. There were whistles, ones that were unnaturally loud at that. The pitch, the length- the five whistles separated meant nothing, but together Hal could never mistake its meaning. The apprentice tensed and prepared himself to immediately jump into combat.

He kept the message in the back of his mind and turned his attention back to Elise. However, before she could speak further, the contingent of Dreadlords rounded a sharp curve in the street. Hal sharply exhaled, expecting to face down a mob in the street. It was clear, but only moments later did violence erupt in Vel Stratholm. From the dark alleyways on either side of the street, armored men and women poured out. One of them, clutching a scroll in his hands, uttered an incantation. From the unraveled scroll came a massive ball of flame that flew towards the Dreadlords. Above, archers and arbalists exposed themselves and unleashed a volley of arrows and bolts towards the center of the group- right where Hal and Elise, and several other Dreadlords stood.

It was an organized ambush- very organized. As the fireball flew closer, Hal extended a hand with his fingers splayed. A hovering shield of ice formed between himself and the magic. The fire exploded against the ice. He could hear as the other Dreadlords began shouting to each other, organizing themselves in a panic to defend.

At the same moment, his other hand shot straight upwards. A canopy of ice formed above Elise and Hal, blocking the volley of arrows that fell their way.

It was hell. The apprentice swore under his breath.

 

[Ania]

The baroness conversed with one of the dreadlords in her employ as the front of the group rounded a corner. Ania tilted her head to react to the sudden blurs of motion. Every back alley, crevice, and indentation of stone seemed to hide the thick armored scourge of Vel Stratholm. These zealots served a pantheon that failed to recognize the rightful authority of Vel Anir. Now they had the audacity to assault a member of the nobility and the valiant dreadlords that carried out her will.

They would be slaughtered like the animals they were.

As the first charged forward with his broadsword Ania stepped to the side, parrying his swing and driving her slender blade through the slit of his helmet. She kicked at his chest and pulled her saber back out in time to make impact on the sword of another attacker from behind. The new adversary attempted a second swing but was met with a riposte from her blade, this one slipping into the joint of his armpit and sliding deep into his chest.

She struggled to release her blade from the folds of the now deceased soldier's armor. As she wrestled with her saber some religious fanatic leveled his crossbow at her and flung a bolt in her direction, she attempted to maneuver away but her reaction was too late. The bolt from his bow sunk into her right thigh and the dreadlord let loose a maniacal scream.

It was a coward's tool. A crossbow.

Ania finally pulled her weapon from the dead man, gritted her teeth, and put a swift end to the crossbowman's life. She locked eyes with three of the other enemies of Vel Anir and they felt the burn of a crossbow bolt buried deep into their thighs.

Pain alone would be too good for them. She began to show them their gods being dismembered by the Anirian royal family. They did not react pleasantly.

 

[Yrael]

From the outside, the Governor’s palace was as large and imposing as one would expect for a man of his status. The walls were high and thick, the doors sturdy and impossible to open without making a great deal of noise. The crests upon them were gilded, and the uniforms of the guards were similarly adorned.

Inside the building would be similar displays of power, but much like the cavernous halls of the palace, they were hollow. The Governor was a stupid man with a long title and borrowed power. He governed the people of Vel Stratholm as a puppet of whomever held the most power over the region at the time.

For a time the gaze of the great houses had passed him by, but he had foolishly allowed this cult of Anirius to grow too large. Anything that gave the people another leader to turn to, anything that turned their loyalties away from the King and the houses that owned him, were threats that would be crushed without mercy.

Yrael had not been ordered to join Elise’s little warband. The King had scarcely been informed of the situation at all, and would likely be told his public position on the matter once it was settled by the ruling council. Only hours before the cathedral fell, the King had pulled him aside.

We cannot stop them, but make sure the people think that I have allowed this.

Elise Virak had grown increasingly restless in recent months, and her hunger for dominance showed no sign of waning. Normally Yrael would be content to allow the houses to fight amongst themselves, and it troubled him that multiple factions had allied behind the Baroness, even if temporarily.

Soon enough she would have to come to the Governor’s palace, no doubt to secure his loyalty to House Virak, or to replace him with someone she could control. This was inevitable. While Yrael himself was confident that he could stop Elise if it came to blows, she would not be the end of it. He could not fight an entire house. Not yet.

No, he would not stop her. He would not prevent her from achieving her goals. He would make his presence known, however. The King’s banner would be involved, one way or another.

While he did not find joy in these games, he knew it would infuriate her.

He stood at the end of the long walkway to the palace. His hands rested on the hilt of a large steel sword, which he had drawn and set tip-down on the ground before him. He hadn’t used the sword in ages, it was really only a symbol of his office. The streets by the palace were calm by comparison, but the unease of the day’s events had clearly rippled through the borough. People had not fled the streets, but the moved quickly and agitated.

His ears perked up at the sound of Florinthe’s whistles. They pierced the murmur of the city with shocking clarity. It appeared that tearing down false gods was not without risks. He reached out a hand, focusing on a point some fifty feet above the street. He focused on the air in that spot and resonated out a reply.

Three whistles, one high, one low, and one in between. The sound was shrill and artificial, but clear. Reinforcements inbound. He had not come here to stop Elise, after all, and attacking Dreadlords was a grievous crime.

Yrael sheathed his sword, and started to run towards the first whistles. The crowd was too thick, and so with a burst of force from behind he flung himself onto the rooftops, hitting the clay tiles at a run. A line of chimneys stood in his way, and he took another great leap to clear them. He travelled in bounds, and it didn’t take long for him to see why the distress signal had been sent. Black figures dotted the rooftops and swarmed the streets.

No thoughts, no deliberations. There was no reason for them to be up here if it were not to cause trouble. Yrael brought his arm down as he landed and smashed the archers through the roof with an invisible hand. The streets had turned into a churning mass of chaos. He saw Hal’s wall of ice, saw the arrows clatter against it. A solid defense so long as he could hold it. A figure in black armor on an adjacent street corner pulled out a scroll and conjured a ball of flame. Yrael stuck out his own arm, and with an audible ripple through the air the street beneath the mage splintered as he and two nearby civilians were reduced to bits.

Three down, untold numbers to go.

 

[Gabriel Banick]

The guards round Gabriel were quick in their own movements when the woman whistled. They did not understand the message, but given the sudden appearance of spears around the one escorting them, their hands found the hilt of their chosen weapons quickly.

Gabriel did not allow the smile to falter, even knowing a fight was to ensue. They rounded the corner and hell itself opened up. His men gathered quickly around him, leaving the Dreadlords room to move through them as most grabbed swords and took defensive positions. A pair close to him brought out bows, silently picking off rabble from the back as the rest spun to make sure the rear and sides were clear.

Gabriel drew his own sword, detaching the chain from it as he moved out of protection and grabbed an attacker from the alley way.

The sword found purchase between the plates as it slid through the man, an arrow whizzing past a Dreadlord ahead of them into the eye of an attacker before his own guards pushed the attackers beside them back into alleyways with sweeping strikes to parry blades.

Gabriel pulled Hunter back, stepping into an alleyway and changing his hold on the sword, his back kept clear by his second in command while others struggled to keep the alleyways near them contained.

Banick parried and stabbed, or delivered blunt strikes, armored hands grasping halfway up the blade while the other remained firmly below the crossguard. Curses were lobbed his way as he made quick work of the assailants in the cramped space between buildings where a sword could not be swung properly.

The pair of archers pulled arrows from other Banick guardsmen near them, emptying the quivers before switching to blades and aiding in defense of the rest.