Fable - Ask A Belief Forgotten[Dreadlords]

A roleplay which may be open to join but you must ask the creator first
Florinthe breathed deeply, running after Yrael and Ania through the dank tunnels of the catacombs. Without hesitation she leapt forward, her shortspear raised before her and impaled one of the revolutionaries effortlessly on the end of the vicious blade. A quick flick and the blade was clean, meeting the guts of another revolutionary who barely had time to process her ambush.

Her attention drifted as she spotted the focus of Yrael's attention. Fleeing enemies. Hopefully, they could be kept alive. Regardless, she had an idea.

A 'whoosh' sound echoed through the tunnel as Florinthe created a small void at the turning they had escaped through. Wind expelled itself from that specific region, refusing to venture back, and suddenly a terrible, inescapable force sucked the escapees backwards. Florinthe, careful so as not to disrupt the walls, created discs of stilled air around the turning so as to protect and stabilise the fragile tunnel.

Without warning, the escapees were dragged forcefully around the corner - into the vacuum she had created. Florinthe crushed her free hand into a fist, the void responded, shrinking and condensing until it contained only the legs and ankles of the enemies. She sighed. She had wished to localise it to their feet, but her control was still not quite there.

Regardless, the unfortunate rebels found their legs, ankles and feet bulge, contort and violently explode as a result of their internal pressure against the vacuum. Blood, bone and human slurry coated the surrounding area. The lucky ones died almost immediately from shock, but a handful of the escapees survived. Agonisingly pleading to be put to death.

Florinthe shuddered. She hadn't used her new power on actual people yet, she grew pale. It was a lot more grotesque than anything else she'd done before.

She stepped back from the violence around her, calling to Yrael.

"Should we perhaps interrogate any of these do you think?"
 
"Only a fool relies on any one thing." Elise commented as she motioned to her house guard and stepped into the beginnings of the catacombs.

The words had not been meant as a dig towards Gabriel, in fact, Elise actually agreed. That was why she had been tying the Dreadlords to herself personally. That was why she had been moving in the expansions of her own power.

The servant mages of Vel Anir were useful, but one could never forget exactly what they were; dangerous.

Elise knew this, Elise knew that even the most loyal of them could never truly be trusted. She had a plan to change it, but for now she could do nothing but track down these deviant fools. Her eyes turned black as the Abyss as they stepped into the catacombs.

"This way." She told Gabriel Banick. "I was taught to track when I was young."

It was a flimsy excuse, but she doubted Banick would dig into it. He knew as well as her that magics were often hidden among the families.
 
The man did little more than nod to her words, understanding well what she had meant by them. His own family seldom relied on one merchant and had a notorious penchant for pitting questionable merchants against one another to see who was more, pliable.

He frowned when he examined the catacomb entrance, wondering just how much of this underground area had been renovated by the living tenants. Also wondering if they had hidden any devious tricks for collapses and such for a getaway.

"Onward to find the wayward children then." Gabriel joked as he followed behind her, hand switching from sword to dagger as they went. His eyes moved around the underground structure, wary of ambushes. While his hand was on the dagger, it was plain where his concern was.

"I wonder how well they have gotten along in our absence. The one seems rather...volatile." He remarked about Ania. While he was a noble, and of a major house, that one made him question more and more the training of dreadlords.
 
A broad smile came across Ania's face as she looked pleasingly onto Florinthe's work. She may have underestimated the Luana dog's dedication. That maneuver was excessively brutal. Not that Ania was complaining, she had no idea the woman had such abilities but she rather liked seeing it. It could be fun to make someone to feel as if their legs exploded, she'd need to file that idea away for later.

"Nicely done Florinthe," she congratulated her comrade as her blade skewered one of the heathens still standing before them with a weapon drawn. The rest of the zealots laid down their arms and surrendered after seeing the might of the dreadlord trio that had tracked them down.

The freckled servant of Weiroon walked forward and eyed the ones who had attempted to flee. The bottoms of their legs stubs of bone and bloody mess. Several of them were screaming, one or two had fainted from the shock. "Where is your master? Where is the leader of this little entourage?"

They ignored her as Ania awaited Yrael's decision. Perhaps if they could obtain some intel Elise wouldn't crucify the three of them once she caught up.
 
Yrael had never seen magic like Florinthe had just used. The explosive force had come from inside the victims' legs. He would need to remember that... there were many possibilities there for his own advancement.

The screaming was incessant, and Yrael lifted a hand to his temple to quell the ache that was forming. It was shameful, the bleating of injured animals. Florinthe's question broke through, and he nodded.

"Yes, that would be wise." He reached forwards with his arm, then made a fist and pulled it towards his body. As he did, one of the writhing cultists was dragged towards them, skidding on the dirty ground. Grabbing at the air with his other hand, he lifted and pinned their victim against the nearest wall. The force of his magic had stopped their screaming for now, and he had gained their attention.

He held out the opposite arm and in an instant the screams were stifled. He had encased himself, Florinthe, Ania, and their guest in a sound-dampening bubble. It was not so quiet that they could not hear if someone were to approach, but enough that the screaming would not distract them.

"Answer," he demanded calmly, though his eyes showed savagery. "Where is your master?"

The cultist, gasping against the crushing force that held them to the wall, rapidly turning pale as blood poured from the remains of the legs, did their best to speak.

"The High Priest... lower... in the heart." A crooked smile cracked over their pained face. "You will... never find..."
 
Florinthe blanched as Ania complimented her. She didn't consider the situation could get any worse, nor could she feel anything less than she had done once she maimed those men. Yet somehow, having Ania admire her destruction and slaughter, she found her guilt intensify tenfold.

As Yrael managed to get answers from the crippled men, Florinthe tried to process it and glanced around slowly towards her team before her. "Do we think this is enough information to report back? Or shall we simply carry on and see if we can find this high priest ourselves?" She paused. It was a strange sensation really. The nobility were not trained weapons like they were and while they commanded the Dreadlords, they didn't necessarily deserve a place on the battlefield. To do so would not only endanger their lives but risk jeopardising the mission.

She turned to face Yrael, her shortspear in hand. "Well, I'm ready to take on the rest of them if you two are." She shrugged, Elise was scary, but they had a job to stop the rebellion and she doubted the trio could get in trouble for simply acting as they should.
 
"They should all be collared and flogged." Elise hissed bitterly as the two nobles wandered through the dark catacombs.

She did not truly believe this, but it was difficult not to find anger at her subordinates when they did not listen. Had she known they would love forward she would have positioned things better, but for all they knew the rebels would simply leave through another exit this place had an escape them.

It was foolish to move on ahead alone, particularly when one did not know all the variables.

The baroness flexed her fingers, gaze shifting through the dark of the tunnel. On the distance she could hear the slight echo of voices, though just whose they were she could not quite tell. "This way."

She urged as they continued in their Dreadlord's path.
 
Her comment about having them all flogged made him bite his lip to keep from laughing. She was irritated already, and he knew his presence did little typically to ease that mood. He kept close, though never close enough to step on her or bind her up as she walked about with her keen sense.

When she informed him of the way to go, he followed without fail, still maintaining the bite on his lip to keep from laughing. It was rare for him to not be the focus of her ire, and he was rather relishing it. Along with the impending verbal and possible physical gutting she had likely waiting upon finding her errant dreadlords.
 
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Footsteps rung out behind them. Echoing throughout the underground dwelling. A pit grew in her stomach as she anticipated what would happen next. They had disobeyed an order and they hadn't even found the high priest yet. It was possible that heading down the appropriate passageway might reveal the heretic, but...

"I believe those sounds are the footsteps of Lady Virak and her entourage," the freckled warrior replied to Florinthe. Her voice was serious, less wavy than normal, but the raven haired woman quickly added a quip with her full hum of insanity. "Unless you can teleport the priest here I'd say we're in a bind."

It was true that they could just continue onward. If Yrael ordered it she'd be stuck. He was a level two, she couldn't disobey orders, and it likely would increase their chances at not being punished if they could deliver the captive leader of this little rebellion. But, it was equally likely, that Elise or one of her scouts would hear the commotion and know that they were pressing forwards despite their leader being so close.

Her glossy blue eyes looked over towards the higher ranking dreadlord, "you're call," she said simply while gripping at her estoc.
 
Yrael had dropped the sound barrier, and the footsteps were indeed approaching. "Let us wait. The Baroness will want a report, and you will be able to explain to her why you scouted ahead." He observed the broken bodies around them. "You have provided her with interrogation subjects, she should be pleased."

The fear that Ania seemed to emanate in regards to Elise was understandable. The noblewoman had a ferocious temper, and death seemed to fall rather quickly upon her enemies. She was not in command of Yrael himself, but as a leader of one of the major houses she wasn't far off. He would be wise to, at the very least, not anger her further.

The cultist was still stuck to the wall, gasping against the pressure surrounding their ribcage. He turned back to them. "If you do not tell us how to get to the heart you will be asked by Lady Virak." The prisoner's eyes betrayed fear at the mention of the house's name. "It will be much less painful for you to tell me now."

They seemed to consider their options. "Follow the sign of Anirius."
 
Florinthe paused as she heard the sounds grow in the distance. She had an idea about cleaning up the battlefield that happened before her but shrugged. The nobles would have seen worse. That said, as Florinthe surveyed the area before them, she found her stomach drop.

Blood was smeared and spattered across the entirety of the cavern, the Dreadlords - for the most part - stood immaculate and squeaky clean. Corpses, not a single one free from dismemberment, maiming with some simply unrecognisable as human forms, were littered across the sudden battlefield. She sighed.

As the nobles returned to the group, Florinthe stood at attention. Spear in one hand and turned to face Gabriel and Elise as they drew close.

"We have reason to believe the crypts are compromised, the rebels are fleeing as we speak. Through a joint effort, we've managed to piece together useful information so we can round up the remaining ones. Additionally, we've left one alive in case either of you wishes to interrogate further."

Florinthe spoke quickly to convey a sense of urgency, it would make the group seem efficient at least. Equally, she knew it was easier to seek forgiveness than permission, so it seemed better to cut her losses and just carry on regardless.

She did not continue, awaiting the answers from the two figures that now stood before the group.
 
Elise stared at the trio for a few moments, her expression a mixture of rage and bewilderment.

For a brief moment she considered waving her hand and tearing the flesh from all three of their bodies. It would have been remarkably satisfying, but then she would also have to explain the death of three Dreadlords not from her House.

Fingers flickered for a brief moment, and flecks of black floated over her eyes before she slowly closed them and took a deep breath. "Slaughter the Rebels."

She had to bite her tongue to keep from lashing them verbally. Elise did not think the Dreadlords would be foolish enough to disobey and lie. Time was of the essence here, and if that was the case then she would not dally.

"See if you can capture their leader." With a wave the Baroness ushered them forward, though before releasing them completely she stopped a second. "Your actions will be addressed later."

She would be sure of that.
 
Ania was amazed that Lady Virak had not immediately ordered the three of them beheaded and blamed it on the rebels. She blinked furiously in amazement before shouting, "I will find their leader for you immediately."

She turned on her heel and did not wait for Florinthe or Yrael to follow though she was certain they'd likely be just behind her. Dashing off in the distance towards the tunnel with a statue of the false god Anirius. The turncoat had told them precisely where to go and there was no time to sit around and analyze if he had been attempting to mislead the group.

It was at the end of the tunnel, near a grate that was beginning to open and allow sunlight to pour in that she saw him. A well adorned man being escorted by two large guards. The two figures were at least seven feet tall, twice as wide as Ania herself, and they both carried a long spiked mace.

"My lord, run," one of them hissed as he charged towards Ania. Unfortunately the pale woman had already placed the religious leader under her magic. She was showing him that the exit was actually in the opposite direction. And so, the two guardians were alarmed to see that their religious head was now running towards the dreadlords of Vel Anir instead of fleeing towards a safe haven.

The imposing figures did not halt their charge however and Ania could only hope that her comrades had caught up with her to assist in fighting these two brigands while she continued to trick the priest to run straight into Elise's embrace.
 
Gabriel did little more than watch the show, as Elise was damned well capable of commanding an army should the whim of desire move her to do so. No noises or chuckles to be had from the Banick, instead of dour expression at the scene around them.

Seemed an awful idea to hide in the crypts, but then again, easy enough to scare people off with the idea of ghosts and other ghastly frights. His eyes darted to her hand as it flexed before she...relaxed was the wrong word. Redirected her intent elsewhere for the moment.

The dreadlord girl, woman. Ania? Sounded correct. Yelled. Making him blink a moment at the question of sense, or if it was merely excitement at not being the subject of Elise's wrath.

Currently.

He said nothing, also taking the wise route of not drawing Elise's attention until she was clearly allowing him to speak.
 
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Yrael's face remained blank as Elise spoke, although there was tension in his jaw that betrayed his displeasure of the situation. The air felt thicker around Elise, and he could not say why. He did not like that. He had always thought her heedless command of Dreadlords was born of noble pride and snobbishness, that she thought she was above them despite having no strength of her own. An alternative reason began to creep into his mind, but he wasn't given time to contemplate it.

Ania's cry diverted his attention, and she raced off. He watched her go before turning his violet eyes back to Elise and calmly saying "Of course," snapping the neck of the prisoner with a flick of his wrist. He lifted his hand, and brought it down with a clenched fist. The group of six or so rebels on the ground beside him were flattened by invisible force. Their blood ran in rivers across the floor. He turned to face the next group and raised his hand again, and after an instant of pleading cries and hands held up in terrified defense, they too were crushed.

Florinthe could no doubt finish any stragglers, and he followed after Ania at a brisk walk. She was easy to follow, even without the clues from the prisoner. The shouts from her opponents echoed down the halls, and by the time Yrael reached her the two gargantuan soldiers were bearing down on her with a smaller, unarmed man in the middle.

Yrael swept both of his arms to the side, pushing the leftmost knight into the catacomb wall. A trickle of dust fell from the ceiling near his impact, and the dreadlord resolved to use restraint for the rest of the fight. Just as well, he should conserve his magic.
 
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Florinthe breathed, her gaze fixed on Elise for a few moments. Suddenly, as if cold water washed over her, she felt her fear and terror of the woman evaporate. It felt as if a magical hold had suddenly snapped and Florinthe felt the fear and anxiety that seemed to overcome her whenever near this woman dissipate.

She smiled.

Nodding calmly towards Gabriel, she turned and ran off towards the rest of the Dreadlords - her newfound confidence granting her a psychological boon.

Her free hand splayed as she ran, small pockets of unstable air materialized within the eye sockets of the remaining living rebels Yrael had leftover. Suddenly, with a cold expression, she clenched her fist and detonated these pockets. In unison, several controlled explosions erupted from the heads of the poor rebels and their brains and heads were scattered across the floor.

Florinthe inhaled deeply as she caught up with the rest of the ground, her arm shooting outwards - fist clenched - towards the remaining guard. She squeezed until her knuckles whitened.

Much like before a sphere of emptiness erupted where the guard was standing, except this time it didn't so much as cause him to explode. Quite the opposite in fact. The suction of the newly created vacuum caused his body to crumble and compress, sucking his body into an impossible contortion.

His scream lasted a few moments until the implosion rendered him dead. Florinthe breathed, restoring balance into the world and extinguishing the vacuum.
 
She was so tired of all this.

Tired of the politics. Tired of the resistance.

It was all so harrowing, so boring. Why did they bother to resist? Why didn't they just understand that their circumstances were hopeless. Dreadlords, rebels, all of them. They should have known better. They should all have already seen.

As the three Dreadlords took care of the remaining guards Ania's spell continued. The Priest ran with a horrified visage directly towards her. She watched the man with a measure of disgust, and as he came closer and closer she reached out her hand.

With a single viper like grasp Elise wrapped a hand around his throat. The touch seemed to snap the man out of his nightmare, a sudden startling realization tearing over his features.

"Wh-"​

"KNEEL!" Her voice boomed out in the chamber, flecks of black roaming over her eyes as the command sundered through the room.

For a second the Priest appeared as though he was about to resist, and then slowly his body seemed to fall onto it's knees.

"First." She began, ignoring the violence still raging around her. "You're going to watch a tent of your city die."

Elise would see decimation carried out. "Then I will put you to the question, and every answer wrong will be a piece torn from your soul."

She was tired of this place. Tired of these people.

Stratholm would be silenced.