Open Chronicles All I Was in Ashes.

[Amalia Rosethorn]

"WAKE UP, CUNT!"

A rattle of her cell gate and a rock to her temple awoke the sleeping and imprisoned Amalia. A spray of curses escaped her lips as she stood up in an attempt to cast her ice at the guard. However an abrupt reminder she couldn't came quickly. Her fingers and hands bound by metal cages, and her neck shackled to the wall behind her. What had happened? Why didn't she have any memory of what had occurred? Where was she?

The guard threw a plate of stale bread at Amalia's feet just out of reach, not that she had hands to pick it up anyways.

"Where the hell am I?!" She demanded. The guard responded with a vulgar gesture and a cackle before leaving. She rustled and struggled against her constraints with helpless and defiant screams. When the cryomancer noticed that her breaths were becoming erratic, she paused to catch them. Her eyes looking outside her cell to see what she could. Cobblestone, mostly. Ruined stone at that point. There was the faint hint of another cell across from her as well. Just the slight imagery of a gated cage.

This was a prison? Why, why was she here?

 

[Lazule]

Without the need for sleep, Lazule could travel much farther in a single day. Efficient. Optimal.

Such a capability proved useful. For Lazule had come to the awareness that Amygdala--one of Father's Slayers, like him, and the very same that had precipitated his Breaking--had been captured and taken to a certain prison. And Lazule knew without doubt that this was Amygdala, for the shapeshifter had again taken the form of Lena's body--the body Lazule had once inhabited, before it had been destroyed by the Amalgamation. The description matched perfectly.

Lazule traveled now to this prison, so guided by the directions of the men he had overheard speaking of the capture of the shapeshifted Amygdala. What Lazule did not consider, of course, was how convenient it had been that he did hear these men speaking so openly--that it was perhaps their intention that he "overhear" them.

Lazule's armored suit soaked in the sun during the day and retained enough charge to carry him through the night. And he forged deep into the Ixchel Wilds.

He wished to speak with Amygdala again. To determine if, in fact, this rogue Slayer was a monster. Or not.

And dispense Lena's retribution accordingly.

* * * * *​

A small above-ground compound was all there was at the location. Much smaller than Lazule had estimated for a prison. Regardless, he approached. The sounds of the jungle were pervasive, and filtered sunlight had difficulty penetrating the canopy of the trees above. He splashed through several puddles, for it had rained the night previous.

As he neared, Lazule saw that the compound--a construction of angular and imposing stone--was not abandoned. Two men stood near the entrance. These two watched his approach.

Lazule stood before them, taller than both. Said firmly, his voice reverberating from the metal of his helm, "My name is Lazule. I seek a prisoner held here. Brought recently. She is not what she seems, and poses a potential danger of which you may not be aware."

The left guard looked at the right guard. Left said, "That so. Who sent ya?"

"A man by the name of Donovan Atlas."

Left seemed to become far more receptive upon hearing the name. He again glanced to Right, and though the faces of neither betrayed nothing, they knew now why Lazule was sent here.

And they knew he was none the wiser.

Amalia Rosethorn

 

[Amalia Rosethorn]

Amalia could taste blood in her mouth. It was hazy. She could hardly remember what happened but she was able to piece together a little more thanks to that cold water. It would have been a good weapon if these chains weren't binding her magic. She knew she was kidnapped. Had her fucking ass beat by whoever these pieces of shit were. They were also not smart. Whoever was leading them was, but the maggots at ground floor with her were dumb as rocks. They just knew how to rough up a woman.

A little light peaked through some of the less stable stone above her head. It looked like a door swinging wide. Was someone investigating? No, more likely another unlucky soul. Those in their cages were much more terrified than her. None of them with great physical stature. These people were directly picking the weak, but why? They were also restricting magic use through some sort of bind.

This situation was bleak. She didn't know how to get out, or where her clothing and weapon were. She sat in rags, her black hair flowing down her dirt stained porcelain skin, bound to this fucking wall.

"YOU BEST FUCKING KILL ME BEFORE I GET OUT!" She called towards the light cracking through the ceiling.

 

[Lazule]

Down the halls of the prison, Lazule was led. Lanterns hung overhead every few dozens paces, the altered arcane fires within casting a harsh yellow light instead of a warm orange. Sufficient for Lazule's purposes, should Amygdala become violent.

The two guards at the front had been joined by two more, trailing behind Lazule. He paid no special attention to how they, essentially, had him surrounded. Lingering traces of a natural trust in humanity, persisting now ever since his way of being had been reforged. Mankind retained the sanctity of personhood, unless individuals proved themselves lacking.

Further into the underground prison the five of them went. Lazule was curious to speak with Amygdala again. He (she at the time) had heard Amygdala's words when first they met some months ago in the vicinity of the town of Brevick, but Father's mantras forbade Lazule from truly listening. A fellow Slayer of Father's making, Amygdala had secured a freedom of thought--gone rogue, as Father would say--far before Lazule had. Lazule wished to know his intentions. And again, act accordingly. With proper discernment, as Caliane through her grace had enabled him to do.

The prison guards led Lazule to a cell door. Coincidentally, the cell adjacent to Amalia's own.

"In here," said one of the guards, unlocking the door and stepping away.

Lazule nodded, pulled open the door, and took a step inside.

But the cell was empty.

Lazule glanced back over his shoulder, started to say There has been a mistake, when the guards descended upon him. They swarmed him, two immediately going for his arms and one with a retractable mancatcher-type weapon and the last with a pair of chain bindings. Lazule punched one of the guards in the jaw with a force (and aided by the man's own momentum) to send him spiraling and his feet flailing above the level of his head before a hard smack against the ground greeted him. The other guard grabbed hold of Lazule's left wrist and the mancatcher guard got the thick leather lasso down Lazule's helm and around his armored neck and cinched it tight. Lazule drew from what light was available and aimed his palm, but the two guards jerked his body and Lazule's Needles of Light whined sharply as they were fired and crashed loudly into the stone wall and then ceiling of the cell. The last guard--nearly avoiding being shot by the Needles--seized his chance and got one binding and then both locked upon Lazule's wrists.

And then Lazule's body immediately stopped moving, and he fell back like a toppled statue to the cell floor. The flow of magic powering the armored suit had been interrupted by the effect of the bindings, and thus Lazule--inhabiting the Unknown Warrior's quasi-undead human body within--was entombed by his own armor.

"Son of a bitch..." one of the guards cursed.

"Are you alright?" said another to their fellow who had been punched.

"Yeah...help me up."

He did. The mancatcher took loosed his weapon and the four of them exited the cell, all four pleased with their work--despite the close call with the magic. They shut the cell door and locked it.

Lazule stared up at the ceiling of the cell. Blinked the Unknown Warrior's eyes behind the visor of his helm.

And began to consider whether his extensive, inherent trust in humanity was gravely misplaced.

Amalia Rosethorn

 

[Nathanael McCallister]

Nate twirled his sword his his had whistling a toon as he walked down the prison’s halls. All was quite quaint in this place, and a good spot to get some news on monsters also! Or to hunt one, which was just what he was here to do following a little bird’s lead.

So being the grumpy diplomat that Nate so unfortunately was he managed to weasel his way into the ranks. An easy task given what he really was. But these cultists were an interesting bunch to say the least.

The lycan takes a deep sniff of the air then laughs, “Well I’ll be damned to Hell and back!” The lycan spins around and faced Lazule’s cell, “Did you really think you could just try to get your way in with words?” He growls and leans against the wall, “How about you down there woman? Judging by your rapid heart beat you are panicking.”

The hunter looks incredibly bored and just tosses his blade into the air and catching it. Over and over again. “Don’t worry thing, I’ll take good care of your both.” Nate smiles, a genuine one, “Trust me.”

 

[Amalia Rosethorn]

Amalia watched the new knight fellow get taken down the instance he entered the cell. Their capture seemed to be indiscriminate. Was their truly know reason for her detainment here? This prison felt wildly unfamiliar. She'd been in a few prior to this but all those paled to the enigma she stood in today. She was going to speak to Lazule about their situation but Nathanael McCallister was not far behind on the introduction.

This time, a free man. One who hadn't had the misfortune of knowing what these things did to your magic. He spoke to her about her heartbeat and Amalia, was flat out not in the mood. Her hair was disgusting and her feet were callousing against the cold stone floor, as well as her neck bruising from the chain around it.

"If that's the case then hurry it the FUCK UP!" She shouted in anger and dismay. "I'M GOING TO GUT EACH OF THESE CRONIES LIKE THE WORTHLESS FUCKING FISH THEY ARE!"

 

[Lazule]

Lazule remained motionless on the cell floor. It was truly only the muscles of his head that he could move, for every other part of his body had the components of his now immobile armored suit grafted onto them (and even into them) in an inseparable manner.

He had theorized a situation similar to this being a possibility, once he learned how the body of the Unknown Warrior and the armored suit around it functioned. Since the suit recharged its magic through sunlight, there could arise a circumstance where Lazule could go into a sunlight-deprived area--a cave, in example--and not have enough charge to escape. Thus he would be rendered immobile, powerless in the dark, and there to remain as such until someone happened upon him or until the Fire faded.

This was akin to this worst case scenario, the imprisonment and bindings forced on him now. And it was fortunate indeed that the bindings did not completely purge magic. Such would have been instant death for his Life Fire.

He heard someone then. Someone who was not any of the earlier guards who had spoken.

Did he really think he could get in here with words? Confusion. Lazule did get inside of this prison with only words. His trust had been in error, undeniably, but he needed to enact no violence to gain entry.

Don’t worry thing, I’ll take good care of your both.

Lazule said nothing. He did not know much about certain phrases and idioms, but he did know that this particular one had two distinct meanings. One was literal: that this unknown man who was talking was going to care for him (and for someone else unseen). The other was meant as a threat. A euphemism for violence.

The other person, the someone else unseen, responded to the unknown man. Tone enraged. Two close instances of words considered profanity. Non-euphemistic threat of violence against the guards yelled at needlessly high volume. An ally, potentially, but a volatile one.

Lazule remained silent and still on the floor.

Amalia Rosethorn Nathanael McCallister

 

[Nathanael McCallister]

Nate sighs, “If you shut your loud fucking mouth the guards might treat you better.” He warns her with a snap, “You aren’t in the best of places to be making threats need I remind you.” The lycan looks at the man who laid motionless. He didn’t know what to think of him yet, that woman was definitely too volatile for her own good from what he could tell. He didn’t want to risk her going crazy on the guard yet, if he was able to get them out.

“The leader of this thing is something else. So you two be good prisoners and I’ll work on getting you guys out to assist me.” The hunter rubs his eyes, “The monster hunter in here, I recognize your scent from the Vale. We have something in common it seems.”

The hunter takes out a bag of dried jerky, takes some out, shows it to them, takes a bite and then tosses them some food. He didn’t want to look too suspicious, “Eat.” He would simply tell them, “The God they worship won’t want weak offerings.” Nate looks at them one more time before walking away.

 

[Amalia Rosethorn]

Amalia scoffed at Nathanael. "You think a harsh fucking tongue is deserving of this fucking treatment?" She spit at his feet. "Fuck you if you think you're safe from a gutting yourself, wolf breath, I'll die before I accept disrespect from the likes of you or anyone else." The food hit the floor beside her and next to the food the guards had tossed her, and as her hands and neck were bound, she could not reach it.

"Is this your idea of a joke you pompous fuckwit? WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU GOING? GET BACK HERE SO I CAN BITE THE MOLD OUT OF YOUR FUCKING BRAIN." She struggled against her constraints causing herself to grow exhausted fast. As her target for berating left the scene she was stuck looking across at a wall near the cell where Lazule had been placed.

"I know you can hear me, new capture." She spoke, now out of breath. "If what that asshole says is true, we're in for a hell of a ride. I expect you to act accordingly; meaning two things. One, help us get out of this shithole, and two, help ME strip these cretins of their very last breaths. Otherwise I won't think twice about making mincemeat of you as well."

 

[Lazule]

Recognized his scent. Intriguing. In this current body Lazule was incapable of any useful application of the sense of smell, with his head being so enclosed within the helm, which to date he had not found a means to remove. Did this body have a particularly strong scent? He washed Lena's body regularly, for cleanliness was a virtue professed by Father, and that temporarily rid (her) of accruements of bodily secretions that would produce a noticeable smell. He had not sensed a similar situation with the Unknown Warrior, but the lack of evidence did not mean such was not real and detectable.

And he also mentioned the Vale. The Gilded Vale. A fellow Monster Hunter, ingratiated among the guards of the prison. A circumstance so favorable it leaned completely into being purely luck. And it was fortunate, else Lazule would be left here, completely vulnerable and helpless.

Something was thrown into the cells, but Lazule couldn't see what it was. Food, based on what the Monster Hunter said.

The other--the female voice--grew more volatile. All three previous indicators of the aforementioned volatility were maintained. Worse, even. A threat was leveled against the infiltrated Monster Hunter. And a threat was likewise leveled against Lazule himself; their goals were aligned, but violence was casually and candidly stated to be the consequence for hypothetical inaction.

That was a threat against someone who was innocent of doing this woman, the female voice, harm.

That was cruelty.

That was the signature of a monster.

Lazule lay immobile on the floor of the cell. Said to the woman addressing him, his voice with the metallic echo of his helm, "Do you believe yourself to retain the sanctity of personhood?"

He was curious. This being who, in words if not in action, bore the signature of a monster: did she believe herself to be a person? Did she have awareness of the righteousness or wickedness of her actions?

Amalia Rosethorn Nathanael McCallister